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by Vita Anne Hoffman
Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica
Description: How does Elf Feyen prince Dominic Bellaclava intend to tame disobedient were-caste she-wolf Fin'neal Cerberus to his will? Why, with sex, of course! Can he tame her disobedient nature...or will he lose his heart to her all over again?
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: August 2012
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [336 KB]
Reading time: 198-278 min.
Underneath the gossamer sheen of an Auroran half-moon, a glorious partial disc of gold upon velvety black sky, Dominic Bellaclava had given chase to--but still had not yet caught--his four-legged quarry. A Cerberus she-beast. A were-cast wolf. A disobedient female whom he wanted to fuck into submission. That pursuit, commenced as a mad dash from out of the rough cobblestoned courtyard of the Samovar Inn and Tavern, had soon turned into a marathon, a grueling chase down a winding dirt-packed lane. But the lane had given way to unmown fields, then to a deer track through a sparse wood. The spindly copse of moon gilded trees had opened onto ever rougher terrain, a rocky plain cut through with ravines and gullies.
And now, faced with a small craggy hill, its shadowed sides covered with rock spurs, scrub, and vines, Nic diabolically cursed Fin'neal Cerberus, the Lupine Lycannis whom he had been trailing. She should have fallen to him long since, not led him on a merry chase over half the Auroran countryside.
"Thrice damned she-wolf!" His hoarse words exploded into the silence. As he studied the rocky hillock, his heart--angered and overexerted--hammered in his chest, pounded in his temples.
This race, began so exultantly at the Samovar Inn, should indeed have ended long ago. After all, Fin'neal Cerberus, regardless of the fact that she had eluded him in the fleet, four-footed form of a wolf, was severely handicapped. She'd been hit, no, Nic mentally amended, she'd merely been grazed by a sleep-draught tipped dart, thrown by the huntress DyAnna Saint-Lyon in a thwarted attempt to catch Fin'neal for the bounty on her head. Instead of DyAnna Saint-Lyon, Nic had been the one to track the drugged she-wolf out into the night.
Thus, upon the commencement of this chase, Nic had crowed victoriously--and, it would now seem, prematurely.
Because, drugged or not, the Cerberus bitch had run him ragged. During their chase, anger and adrenaline had fueled Nic, for there at the Samovar, Fin'neal had shamed his sexual prowess--publicly--before all those gathered at the tavern when he had wildly, mindlessly rutted her on a tabletop like some inexperienced youth. He'd quickly reached a climax, only then realizing that she hadn't. Before that avid gathering of motley onlookers, Fin'neal had contemptuously ordered Nic, just on the brink of his release, "to hurry and cum" because she had better things to do!
In the aftermath of that humiliation, he'd cursed her, and chased her, and vowed to conquer her. He would, he raged, have his retribution...once he caught her.
But the damned female ran as a wolf!
Therefore, even with Fin'neal drugged, the distance between them had widened until Nic, although possessing the exceptional senses of the magical ElfFeyen--the supernaturally heightened sight, hearing, smell, and strength of his race--had only occasionally caught the red-dust tinged gleam of her eyes or the taunting swish of her brush-like tail.
His initial euphoria had dulled into slow burning wrath. Several times, Nic's rage had eerily sharpened his vision, had, in fact, let him glimpse her as if they were separated by inches, not by many many lengthening yards. At those times, it had felt as if he could traverse that distance simply by wishing it!
If only he could close that gap so easily, he fumed.
Because, now, standing at the bottom of that dangerously rocky incline, sweaty, angry, and irrationally horny, he watched an exhausted Fin'neal, her sleek wolf-shape starkly illuminated with golden moonlight and colorless shadow, fight to the top of that treacherous ascent, far less agilely than usual. Gravels and shale suddenly loosened under her paws. Her back haunches nearly collapsed, and, dancing madly, she scrabbled for traction.
As she recovered from that stumble and then disappeared over the hilltop, Nic sorted through his numb emotions--ire, aggression, bitterness--and realized that suppressed deep within him was a kernel of fear for her. But it immediately twisted into the thought that, if she fell, there would be no revenge against her who had once been--but was no longer--his taboo lover.
No, Nic grimly smiled up at the spot where Fin'neal had just vanished, that unwholesome infatuation had thankfully been stripped from him with passion-magic by Taya Mephistos. Not only had she, the haughty red-gold haired sorceress, saved him from the savage, nearly fatal wounds given him by Kestrel Cerberus, a rogue pack member and ostensible rival of Nic's for Fin'neal, but Taya had also wielded her magic to rid Nic of his intolerable lust for a lower caste ElfFeyen, for a female of the Cerberus were-pack. That obsession had been so irrational, so intense that Nic had repeatedly professed love--he had all but exchanged bonding vows with her.
Nic scowled to recall that one of his younger brothers, Chael, who had been a student along with Taya Mephistos of the sorcerer Vedder, had visited him during his convalescence and denounced her intervention because it had been accomplished with the outlawed black art of passion-magic, notoriously unpredictable, and extremely dangerous.
"Yet I," Nic glowered at that empty outcrop of rock so far above him, indeed, an arduous climb up a rocky hillside, and he unconsciously rubbed a hand across his chest, just over his heart, "have no complaint. Taya Mephistos freed me. She liberated me from a warped passion, one that ensnared me to a lowly, disobedient Lupine Lycannis. A cur that now requires lessons to temper her infuriating defiance."
But the emptiness of that rocky crag mocked him. Fin'neal was well beyond him, and increasing her lead. Nic wouldn't let her escape! He shouted against the slant of the hillside.
"There shall be a reckoning! You have disgraced me, she-beast, and I want satisfaction!"
No reply came other than a faint echo of his own frustrated shout.