What the Wolf Craves (Rough M/F Vampire Werewolf Erotica)
James has only been a werewolf for a few short months, and he's having more and more trouble keeping the beast within under control. When all else fails, he turns to the vampire Natasha for help. She tells him to give the wolf exactly what it craves: Natasha's tight, hot body! More
James has only been a werewolf for a few short months, and he's having more and more trouble keeping the beast within under control. When all else fails, he turns to the vampire Natasha for help. She tells him to give the wolf exactly what it craves: Natasha's tight, hot body!
“My name is James. Patrick told me to find you here. I’m having a,” he paused momentarily before continuing, “problem, and he said you could help me.”
She smiled in a not altogether friendly manner that made James feel a bit nervous once more, and then pushed the second chair out with an outstretched leg. “I am Natasha,” she said, gesturing to the open seat with one hand. “When did it happen?”
“Three months ago,” James answered, sitting down. “Patrick’s been helping me, teaching me to control it, but I’ve been having these violent, animal impulses lately.” He looked down at the table as he spoke. “They’re getting worse, even when it isn’t near the full moon, and I’m afraid that I’m going to lose control.” He looked back up into her eyes. “Please, how do you control the wolf inside you?”
He wasn’t sure what to expect from Natasha, but laughing wasn’t one of the possibilities he had considered. “Patrick didn’t tell you much about me, did he?” she said after her laughter had subsided. “I am not a werewolf.”
James blinked in surprise. His brow furrowed, and it took him a few moments before he could reply. “You aren’t? Then, what are you?”
She smiled that vaguely sinister smile again. “You tell me. The beast is just beneath your conscious mind. Let go of the leash, and let it tell you what I am. I know it’s there; you can hear me.” James realized that she was right; she hadn’t raised her voice over the sounds of the crowd, and had been talking in a quiet tone the entire time, but he didn’t have any trouble hearing her.
“But I can barely control it as it is! I can’t let loose!” he exclaimed.
“The beast wants to hunt, so let it hunt me.” Her eyes were hard. He swallowed, and nodded.
From the moment he entered the club, he had been fighting back against the flood of sensory information that the wolf was trying to show him. He stopped blocking it out, and let it wash over him. Scent was first and foremost – the people writhing and sweating on the dance floor, the intoxicating fumes from cocktails at the bar. Turning his attention towards Natasha, he smelled something different, something clean. Bleach? “Well, you’re not a true blonde-“
The world titled sideways as Natasha slapped him. “Bad dog. You can treat a girl like a faun you chase down for your next meal, but never say that she colors her hair.” The corners of her mouth crept up as she spoke; still not a warm smile, but much closer to actual amusement than before.
James shook his head, rubbed his stinging cheek, and tried again. He traced down that clean smell again. There was the normal smell of a woman, warm and erotic, but that other odor permeated through it. He almost felt like his brain was giving it greater importance, perhaps to warn him of some danger. He was pretty sure that it was bleach, but there was something else there, something sanitized. Like a hospital.
No, not a hospital. Like a morgue. Natasha smelled like death.
His eyes flicked down to the pale, slender curve of her neck, where the choker hugged her skin. He saw her smile grow out of the corner of his eye.
“You don’t have a heartbeat,” he whispered. “You’re a vampire.” He couldn’t hear his own voice over the sounds of the club, but she heard him clearly. Staring at her neck, flat and pulseless, he couldn’t help but move his eyes down into the valley of her cleavage.