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spiritheartssong · 2 years ago

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Lunatics: A Steamy Werewolf Romance (Free Preview!)

This is the prologue to my extra steamy novella, Lunatics, available on all major platforms in ebook and paperback!

***

“Open your eyes.”

I was in a small cabin illuminated with what seemed to be a hundred candles. Their warmth washed over me as I turned in a tiny circle, not quite believing it was real.

“What do you think?”

I was speechless.

Although I had dreamed of this night many, many times before, I never expected such a miracle could happen to someone like me. I was an outcast, an orphan. And, after so many years of feeling unwanted and alone, I finally belonged to someone.

I turned my gaze to the speaker, a tall, tan, and muscular man with curly auburn hair that kissed his shoulders. It was still hard for me to believe his mother was black like me.

His smile grew slowly, like the kindling of a flame. His green eyes, with their gold-circled irises, seemed to be glowing, they were so luminescent and bright. I felt the swell of love in my heart and closed the gap between us.

“I love it,” I murmured as I wrapped my arms around his neck, stepping on my tippy toes to whisper in his ear. “And I love you.”

He wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me into his body, where I felt his hardness throbbing. His hands lowered onto the curve of my hips, and he rubbed himself in slow circles against my form.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered into the wisps of my hair. “Searched for you for so long. And you’re finally mine.”

I felt a throbbing of my own as my sacred flower began to blossom. His grip tightened. It was as if he felt the shift.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He asked.

I nodded against his neck, where I left a little trail of kisses. He shuddered against my touch.

My mouth traveled from his shoulder back to the nook of his neck. I nibbled on his ear and murmured, “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

And it was true. In all my twenty-eight years of living, I had wanted many things. Most of them things that were not mine to have. Not in this world, anyway, where the darker hue of my skin meant I was deemed unworthy of the right to freely live.

But all of that was changing; my life was just beginning, thanks to him.

He raised one hand to the waistband of my skirt. “Let me give you what you want,” he said and dipped two fingers in.

Flesh against flesh, he first went for my wetness and traveled ever so slowly up to my clitoris, rubbing her in gentle little circles. I opened my legs wider and he increased the circle’s circumference. A surge of electricity traveled from his body to mine, and I had to lean against him for support.

“Tell me how that feels.”

“So good,” I was whimpering. “It feels so good.”

He smiled. “It feels good for me, too. You’re so soft…and wet.” He flicked his finger and lifted his hand out of my skirt.

“What? Nooooo.”

“Yes.” His voice was firm, almost reprimanding.

I looked into his emerald eyes and saw the glint that said, go ahead, try and challenge me.

I didn’t dare.

Instead, I dove deeper into his gaze and relished the sight of the face I loved.

God, he was gorgeous. The golden rims in his eyes and his auburn hair shimmered in the candlelight. He looked holy, like an angel walking the earth.

He brought my chin up and pressed his lips against mine, entering my mouth with his tongue. He tasted like sin, like the Underworld come up to meet me.

Oh, how I wanted to descend.

I had grown up being taught about heaven and hell, but I decided from a young age not to believe any of it. I didn’t believe in one god; I believed in many.

I didn’t believe in sins either, but I’d heard enough about them to know that anything that felt good and right was one of them.

If that were true, then this night would be full of sin and both our souls would be damned.

Good thing I didn’t believe in damnation either.

I believed in love, and I had never been more certain of a love than the one I shared with the man in my arms. This big, burly man with the forest in his eyes. My match. My mate.

I let his tongue explore my mouth and his lips collide with mine. He was hungry. He could have his feast on me.

I reached down and stroked his erection. It was even harder than it’d been before.

He stopped kissing me and looked down at my hand, his forehead resting against mine. I froze.

“Don’t stop.” His voice was rough—strained. “Touch me.”

I pulled down his trousers and held him tightly in my grasp.

“How is it you want to be touched?”

He smiled devilishly. “Let me show you.” He stepped out of the pool of his pants and raised his tunic over his head. I ran my hands across his chest, stopping at the little scar above his heart.

“It’s all healed.” I was surprised.

“I told you I heal differently.”

“Yes, but the silver—I thought—”

“I’m strong. Stronger now because of you. You’ve healed me.”

“I also almost killed you.”

He took one of my hands in his. “Stop. It wasn’t your fault. And even if it was, I wouldn’t fault you. I would do it again—I would do anything to free you.”

I rested my head on his chest and gave the scar a kiss. “Thank you.”

Pressing my body into his, I urged him backwards, guiding us both to the bed. It was a one room cottage we were in, and it was our home.

I had never owned anything before. And now, this space was mine. This bed was mine. This man was all mine. Nothing would ever take him away.

When we reached the edge of the mattress, I poked his shoulder and he leapt backwards, flinging himself onto the bed.

“I’m going to undress for you.” I was wearing a very modest cotton skirt and tunic, both two sizes too large. They were the only white things I had in my meager possessions, and they once belonged to my mother, whose body was fuller from the three children she’d birthed.

But for a makeshift wedding with only the bride and groom in attendance, the ensemble was perfect. I wouldn’t have worn anything else.

I first took off the tunic, raising it inch by inch, exposing first my belly, then my breasts. My nipples, already a deep shade of brown, darkened as they hardened in the cooler air.

My husband lowered his hand to his crotch and began tugging his penis upward in slow and tight strokes. He locked his eyes on me as he cupped its head and rubbed circles on it with his palm.

God, he was so beautiful.

I wanted to taste him. To put my mouth around him and feel him throb against my tongue.

But first, I needed to get naked.

I unfastened the rope used for a belt and allowed my skirt to fall to my ankles.

“Let me see you,” he said.

I opened my arms.

“No—” He beckoned me closer with his finger. His voice was tense, like it pained him to speak. “Come.”

When I reached the bed, he brought one of my legs onto the mattress beside him and adjusted himself so he lay in between me. He kissed the kinky hair around my crotch and rubbed his face around my sacred space.

“I love you.” He peeled open my flower and ran his tongue up and down its expanse. I caved in towards him and he held me up with one hand, squeezing my rear hard enough to make me moan. Hard enough to leave a mark.

But my darker skin never bruised, and I was suddenly thankful for it. I laughed to myself.

He paused. “What is it?”

“I was just thinking about how grateful I am to have my skin now, of all times. I think I always hated it before.”

He kissed my inner thigh, where the skin was even darker. “I understand why you would.”

Of course he did.

He was the one who found me, indentured in the same way my mother had been enslaved. And he was the one who set me free.

It was my father’s family that I worked for, though they were no kin to me.

They treated me better than the other “workers,” as they’d come to call people like us after the war. I was born a year after it ended, in 1866. Despite the Emancipation Proclamation, my father refused to set my mother free. And even after she died—after he died—his family kept the chains of bondage wrapped tightly around me.

The only place I was free to roam was the woods on the plantation grounds, a privilege extended only to my two older brothers, who managed the land they should have inherited. Until they were shipped off to a distant uncle’s property where they couldn’t cause trouble. Even though they would have never. Even though they should have.

My blood began to boil as I thought about it. There were too many shoulds from that time, too many rights that remained wronged.

I focused my attention back on my husband.

He traced his finger on my brow. “Were you thinking about them?”

He always knew where my mind was traveling. “I was. But I don’t want to think about them or that place anymore—ever.”

He watched me carefully. Though he seemed to be privy to my thoughts, there were times I had no idea what he was thinking, what it was he was seeing in me that I had yet to see.

He spoke softly, “It’s okay, you know…if you do think of your time there.”

I shook my head. “It’ll just leave me angry.”

“Even the thought of your brothers?”

“That would just make me sad.”

“Come.” He pulled me down onto his lap and squeezed his arms around me. I let my head fall to his chest and let out a great and weary sigh.

I didn’t want to let him know I was sad, but he could probably feel it anyways. He felt everything about me like my energy was his own. Perhaps it was.

The warmth of his hand journeyed up my back, igniting my spine. I sat up straighter against him. There was something about his touch that was so soothing, I believed there was magic in his hands.

There had to have been in order for him to change shapes like he did.

As if sensing what I was thinking, he whispered, “There’s magic in you, too.”

“That’s what you’ve been saying.” I tried not to whine. “I have yet to see any magic in myself.”

“That’s the thing,” he smiled. “Magic isn’t something you see. It’s just what you are.”

I smiled but couldn’t force my heart to take his words as truth. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Someday you’ll see it—and then you’ll believe it.”

“What makes you so sure I will?”

“I’m your husband. I know you…inside and out.” His hand found its way to my sacred space and rested lightly upon it.

I closed my eyes as I remembered the first time we made love. We were on our journey North from the plantation in Georgia. We had just crossed the Mason Dixon line and the tension that was pent up between us burst like the gods intended it to. We’d made love in a wild river, and I was baptized and reborn. I changed my name that evening from the one my captors gave me to one I chose myself.

“Luna,” I told him. “I want to be called Luna.”

“Luna…” Shadow’s voice snapped me back to the present moment. His brows were drawn together. “What are you thinking about?”

I smirked, “I’m surprised you don’t know.”

I ran my hand through the golden threads in his hair and kissed the tip of his nose, shaped so differently than my own. “I was thinking about our first time making love…in the river.”

“Owooo!” he howled, tossing his head back. When his eyes found mine once more, a new kind of glint sparkled in them.

This time, I knew very well what he was thinking.

He squeezed a handful of my rear and nuzzled my neck. “The first time I tasted you…”

The hand on my sacred space began to move slightly, and ever so gently his fingers parted the petals of my flower.

My instinct was to close my eyes, but I wanted to look Shadow in his eyes. I wanted him to see the effect he had on me. I needed him to know how good he made me feel.

“You’re all wet, Luna…” His voice was soft as two of his fingers painted circles around my pearl.

I loved hearing him call me Luna.

I shifted my body and turned to straddle him. He resumed his strokes after only a brief pause. His other hand journeyed up my back and curved its way onto my breast, cupping it and pinching my nipple lightly.

I inhaled sharply. Nothing got me wetter than the pinching of my nipple.

Well, almost nothing.

Shadow removed his glorious fingers from my nipple and clit and anchored them on my hips. He began to move me up and down against his erection, and I savored the sensation of his bulging veins and silky shaft against my wetness. My eyes closed and my head dropped backwards.

I felt the pressure building towards a climax. My breathing started to become heavier, and I felt tingly all over.

“Look at me,” Shadow cooed. “I want to see you when you come.”

I crashed my hips tightly into him and locked my eyes on his.

He brought his hand back to my nipple and pinched me—hard.

My eyes widened and I let out a cry as the dam burst and I cascaded into a climax.

Shadow’s other hand left my hips and focused once more on my clit, moving it in wild, little circles. “You’ve got more energy inside you.” His voice came out in pieces. “Let it out. Give it to me.”

My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt a second climax approaching.

“Wait—” I could barely get the words out of my mouth. “Come inside me.”

“Not yet.” He smiled. He always made me come first. Always.

He lowered his face against my chest and sucked my nipple into his mouth, running his tongue against this mini mountain and nibbling gently at its peak.

I couldn’t help but moan, couldn’t keep quiet even if I wanted to.

But I didn’t want to. I wanted Shadow to hear without question how amazing he made me feel. He deserved to know.

“Oh! Oh!” The pitch of my voice was several octaves higher than normal.

Without warning, he slid his fingers into my channel, swirling them along the sides of its wall.

I let out a cry as he moved in and out of me, licking one nipple and then the next.

This was too much. It was all too much.

I stood on my knees as my back arched, and Shadow penetrated me even faster.

I let out a high-pitched squeal. I didn’t think I could take anymore, but I found myself crying, “More!”

“You want more?”

I could only whimper, “Yessssss.”

He moved both hands to my hips and lowered me down onto his erection, which was warm and throbbing and so, so nice.

I came instantly.

But Shadow had just begun.

Without removing himself from inside me, he laid me down on the bed, his body on top of mine.

I clasped my fingers around his neck and marveled at the soft curl of his hair, so different than my own. He brought his lips to my mouth and kissed me like it would be the last time. It was urgent, it was needy, all tongue and spit combined.

He bit my lower lip and began thrusting. I opened my legs wider to accommodate his girth. He was the first man to ever be inside me, and my channel was still adjusting to having visitors.

Even still, I felt Shadow fit me perfectly, and he vehemently agreed.

He grunted with each thrust, holding nothing back.

I tightened myself around him and felt his breathing stagger. He was close to climaxing.

“Think of me,” I whispered, clutching his face. “Think of how much I love you.”

He growled and bucked inside of me, and my legs tightened around him, fully receiving his glorious finish.

Shadow lied limp on top of me, panting.

Suddenly, he rose onto his knees, half inside me, half out, seeming to be listening to something that was undetectable to me.

Over the course of our migration North, I had learned to trust Shadow’s acute sense of hearing. He could detect movement several miles away.

“What’s—”

He put a finger to my lips to stop me from speaking further and pulled out of me completely, leaping to where my garments laid.

“Get dressed,” he tossed me my clothes, voice low, and quickly dressed himself.

My heart began to quicken, and my hands shook as I slid my skirt over my hips.

I was dizzy from our lovemaking and sat stock-still on the edge of the bed. I looked around helplessly.

There were too many candles to extinguish stealthily, and they gave enough light to let anyone know from a distance that we were very much inside.

Shadow changed shape, his body seeming to melt and shudder into that of a large, brown wolf with luminescent golden eyes. He barred his teeth and growled at the window that faced the bed, backing up to stand in front of me.

I closed my eyes and counted to three; that always helped to calm me.

One…maybe it’s just a wild animal.

Two…it must be. No one knows we’re here.

Three…

I opened my eyes and let out a delicate sigh. Of course we would be alright. We were with each other.

One…

Two…

I heard the glass break before I saw it shatter.

First, a large rock flew into the room.

What followed it, I didn’t know; I never knew. Because just as I let out a blood-curdling scream, I woke up panting in my cheetah print pajamas, my duvet on the floor and my sheets contorted around me.

I gripped my chest, my arms, my legs, and let out a sigh of relief.

It was just a dream.

And even though it felt as real as my waking world, it was always just a dream.

***

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