tagNonHumanCeluna's Hunt

Celuna's Hunt

byhrefnadrakis©

The night called to him, as he lay stretched out on his hotel bed. He could hear the sounds in the distance and he longed to get up and run. He longed to get up and shed his human form as he had done so many times before. He turned his head to look at the human woman lying beside him. She smelled of perfume, woman and him. His scent was all over her now. It would be a surprise if it weren’t. He had spent the last five hours satisfying their mutual lust. Her bleached blonde hair lay tangled on the pillow as she snored softly.

Gracefully he rolled out of the bed and landed on his feet without a sound. He padded over to the balcony and opened the sliding glass doors. The night wind caressed his face as he scented the air. In the city, it was impossible to shed his skin and run as the wolf. Too many people nearby might see him and know his secret. He guarded his privacy well and fiercely. It wouldn’t do for the world to know what he was especially in light of his career. He made good money as a wrestler and he enjoyed the travel. He enjoyed performing before live audiences without them knowing exactly what he was. It was a thrill to him. There were so few things that thrilled him anymore.

She could scent him even through all the other people milling about. He was the epitome of animal magnetism and the one she was looking for. He stood six feet four inches tall and weighed roughly two hundred forty pounds. His eyes were an intense blue green. His hair was long and a light sandy brown color, brushing around his shoulders. It curled at the ends especially when it was wet. His shoulders were broad and muscular narrowing down to a slender waist and massive thighs. He was in excellent physical condition. She felt the aching of lust begin low in her stomach. Yes, he would suit her needs quite well.

She stared up at him from her position on the street. He stood on the balcony; naked as the day he was born. She admired the massive muscles of his chest and arms, the solidness of his thighs, the ridges of his abdomen. He was glorious. She could imagine being held securely in his arms as pleasure flooded them both. He was a good choice, the only choice for her. She could feel it. She smiled softly until the wind carried his scent to her. Then a low growl issued from her throat. He smelled of sex and woman. A surge of possessiveness went through her. She felt rage build inside her and she felt the urge to rend and tear this other female to pieces. She lifted her head and let out a howl. Then she loped across the street to enter the hotel unobserved.

His ears perked up when he heard the howl. It was just below him in the street. Eagerly his eyes scanned the street. However, the other had disappeared into the night. He felt the sound dance over his body like a sensual caress. It was more than a stray dog that he knew. He turned back to the bed as he heard the woman stir

“Hunter?” came her sleepy voice, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing Debra” he answered as he turned back to the night.

“Come back to bed,” she said her voice turning husky with renewed desire. He felt the answering lust in his body and turned towards the bed.

She stood at the door, listening to the sounds coming from within. Her teeth ground together in fury. He was hers. A low growl issued from deep within her chest. Her hand flashed in a movement too fast for the human eye to see. Four long furrows appeared in the door. She longed to burst through the door and slash the interloper apart. Suddenly she grabbed a hold of her rage. Now was not the time. He would more than likely defend the female. She would wait until the woman left. Then she would follow her. Many years ago, she had learned the value of patience. However, given the state she was in at this time, she found her patience wearing thin. She must mate and she must do it soon. But it would be a mate of her choosing and not her father’s or her mother’s. She would not mate with anyone for the sake of bloodlines. She would mate with one that she loved or none at all no matter the consequences it would bring to her.

She slipped around the corner just as his door opened. She watched as he carefully examined her marks on the door. Slowly he leaned forward as if to get a better look. His head lifted and he glanced down the hallway, searching. She slipped back behind the comer. Then, with her highly sensitive ears, she heard him pad down the hall. Glancing quickly she saw him, clad only in a pair of silk pajama bottoms, walking down the hall with a bucket in his hand. Now was her chance to get rid of any opposition. Quick as a flash she was inside the room, the tails of her black leather duster flapping behind her as she moved. Quietly she closed the door behind her.

She padded silently into the bedroom, her eyes glowing yellow in the darkness. She could see clearly as if it were a bright sunny day. She looked at the woman sprawled on the bed in wanton abandon. Her blond hair revealing its dark roots and her nails impossibly long. Her mascara had already blackened her eyes and her lips were swollen from his kisses, her lipstick all but gone. She felt the rage building within her once again. This is what he chose to sleep with? This is what he wasted his seed on? She stalked towards the bed, crouching low.

As if somehow sensing the danger, Debra awoke. Her eyes widened in fright as she saw the amber yellow eyes glowing in the darkness of the room. Where was Hunter? She scrambled backwards until her back collided with the headboard. She heard a low menacing chuckle and knew that if the creature had wanted to, it would have snagged her before she could have moved an inch.

“Who are you?” Debra asked in a trembling voice, “What do you want?”

She jumped from the floor and effortlessly crouched on the three-inch wide footboard. She tilted her head to study this pathetic creature in front of her. Normally she did not think so harshly of humans but her hormonal state put a sharper edge on her thought processes.

“Do you really wish to know my name?” she asked Debra as she studied her. Her voice came out in a low husky rumble.

“Y-ye-es… n-no, I…”

“You do but you don’t” she laughed, “You do not wish to put a name to this creature you fear yet a part of you wishes to know what you are so afraid of.”

“H-he’s g-going to c-come back,” she said with a tremulous voice almost resembling defiance.

“There is a backbone in there after all,” she remarked, “Are you so sure he will come back? How do you know he is not laying in a pool of his own blood in the other room?”

“No” Debra whispered.

“Do not fear,” she laughed, “I do not intend to draw his blood. That is not why I am here. But you… now you are in my way. I do not take kindly to obstacles in my path’

“I’ve done nothing to you,” Debra whispered.

“No?”

She moved so quickly Debra had no chance to react. Debra found herself pinned to the bed. Clothe covered breast brushed naked breast. Leather clad thighs straddled hers and held her still. Debra stared into the face of a woman. Golden eyes were inches from hers. Debra trembled as she leaned down and brought her face close to Debra’s belly. Then slowly she moved upward, inhaling softly, taking in their mingled scents.

“You smell of him, of sex. His scent marks you as clearly as if he had left a visible symbol. He has fucked you many times this night. It will take days before his scent stops clinging to your skin, a beacon to my senses,” she stared down in Debra’s terrified eyes. She studied her swollen lips and her rapid breathing. She scented the wine on her breath. She brought her mouth closer to Debra’s. Her tongue snaked out and lapped quickly along her bottom lip, tasting him on her. Then slowly, long black eyelashes swept up to allow golden eyes to hold terrified blue, terrified but becoming aroused by the stroke of her tongue.

“His taste lingers on your lips, the muskiness of him. He is addictive is he not?” she asked as she brushed her lips along Debra’s cheek, still tasting him.

“What do you want?” Debra breathed, trying to ignore the arousing affect this strange woman was having on her.

“Have you not figured it out?” she asked. Debra shook her head.

“No”

“He is the one. You need know no more than that,” she whispered as she placed her mouth just beneath Debra’s chin, “You will dress and leave this room immediately. Otherwise, nasty things will happen to you. Nasty bloody things that do not bare description.”

With that, she opened her mouth and caught Debra’s throat between her jaws. She allowed her upper and lower canines to elongate just enough to pierce the first layer of skin and draw blood.

“Let her go,” came his deep growl from the doorway. She had lingered too long, been too distracted and not sensed his approach. Slowly she lifted her head to look at him. She saw his muscles tense for attack. He was going to spring at any moment. As he did, she rolled and met him head on. They slid across the floor on her black leather duster. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as his clasped around her, trying to wrap around her throat. Debra ran out of the room, grabbing her clothing as she went.

They landed with Hunter on top. His thighs trapped hers and his lower body pinned her to the floor. Her skin burned through her clothing. He was strong, as she knew he would be. She let go of his shoulder and brought her arm sharply across his elbow, causing his arm to bend and his hold to break. The sudden loss of stability made him lurch to one side and she used the momentum to propel them over. She now lay on top of him. Looking down into his face, she studied him for a moment. Quicker than he thought possible, she darted her head forward and had her jaws wrapped around his throat. She held tightly enough that if he pulled he would leave skin and possibly his throat behind. She felt the ripple of his swallow pass through her lips. Slowly he loosed his hold on her one shoulder. His hands fell to his sides. She could tear his throat out at any moment.

Then a musky scent filled his nostrils. It was hot and spoke of warm sweet earth and steamy sex. It was the scent of this woman and he found himself getting hard as it invaded his brain. He felt her body shimmer with energy and her muscles trembled. Her body writhed above his and her grip on his throat loosened. Suddenly she rolled away from him and to her feet.

“On my terms,” she growled to, it seemed, no one in particular, “on MY terms.”

She turned her back to him and made as if to walk out of the room. Without really thinking about it, he launched himself at her and pinned her, face down to the bed. Her nose was assaulted by the scent of sex, Debra and his aroma soaked into the sheets. She struggled fiercely beneath him, trying to get enough purchase to throw him off her. Her scent became stronger, filling the room with the smell of her.

“I am not through with you,” he panted in her ear. With one hand, he grabbed the collar of her leather coat and pulled it down her arms, pinning them to her sides. She continued her fierce struggle until he wrapped her long black hair around his wrist and pulled backward, arching her neck and lifting her face to his. Her throat was bared to him, to take if he wished it. Never had she felt so vulnerable or so aroused.

“Get off me” she growled low in her throat.

She tensed as his free hand, now marked with razor sharp claws, lightly caressed her bared throat. She knew he left white scratch lines on her skin that would fade in a few moments.

“You are in no position to give orders, are you?” he growled against her ear. She renewed her struggles until he gave a meaningful tug on her hair.

“Do you kill me now?”

“What is your name?” he demanded. She remained silent, not answering his question. He straddled her buttocks the curve of which fit quite pleasurably between his rock hard thighs. He could still smell her scent, musky sweet and arousing. Part of him wanted to kill her for invading his room and the other part wanted to have sex with her until neither one of them could move. He reached down and pulled her coat away from her sides. She wore one of those shirts that gave tantalizing glimpses of her belly and black leather pants that laced up the sides. Easily he severed the lacings over her hip. Then slowly, his fingers burrowed between the material and her skin. He could feel her body tensing beneath him. She wore nothing beneath the black leather. Her skin was almost burning hot to his touch. Her body jerked as he found the beginning of her nether curls. He leaned down a little more and slid his fingers deeper into those silken curls. His questing fingers found fiery heat and wetness as he slipped his fingers between her woman’s folds. Her whole body tensed and trembled. She wanted him, his touch. He delved deeper and began to move his fingers within her. His ministrations were met with a rush of wet heat and her strong scent. With a husky chuckle of male appreciation, he withdrew his hand. Then he leaned down so she could see his face. Holding her golden eyes, he slipped first one, than two fingers into his mouth, tasting her on his own flesh. His sensitive ears caught a barely contained whimper of desire.

She felt his arousal pressed against her buttocks and it made her tremble all the more. Images of his body thrusting into hers filled her mind. She growled in frustration. None of this would have been a problem if she weren’t in heat. Damn it. She needed to get away from him and now, otherwise her body with tell her mind to go to hell and fuck his brains out before either one of them could blink.

“Your name” he demanded again.

“I will tell you nothing,” she growled and suddenly heaved with more force that he thought she’d possessed. The abruptness of her movements caused him to release his hold on her hair. He went flying back to the floor and she was out the door to the balcony. He watched as she launched herself into the air. He ran to the balcony and saw her land on her feet with barely any noise. She turned and looked up at him just as the moon came out from behind the clouds. It bathed her face in a silvery light and Hunter caught his breath. Large amber yellow eyes looked up at him, surrounded by long black lashes. Her hair swung before settling around her, hanging almost to her waist. She had high cheekbones and full red lips quirked in a taunting smile. Her black eyebrows were finely arched. Her skin shone pale in the silvery light of Mother Luna. “We shall meet again,” he said as he stared down at her from his balcony. She lifted her hand in a mock salute. Slowly, holding her gaze, he brought his fingers to his mouth and gave them a slow leisurely lick, tasting her essence. He watched her eyes darken and then she disappeared into the night. He would find her again. He had her most intimate scent he would find her.

“Where have you been?” came her father’s deep voice. He had been waiting up for her again as if she were a stray pup.

“Out” she said.

“It is not safe for you to be out, especially in your hormonal state. There are hundreds of Loupa who would dearly love to claim you as their mate.”

“And there would be hundreds of dead Loupa who attempted such a fool hardy task,” she growled back.

“You cannot fight them all Celune,” her father said softly.

“It is about time you were paired anyway” came her mother’s strong voice. Cleona strode out of the dark library. She stared hard at her only daughter. Then, as she sniffed delicately, she caught a strange scent on Celune’s skin. Slowly, one delicate eyebrow arched. Her daughter held the spore of a male upon her. If Cleona was right, and she was seldom wrong, he was Loupa.

“I will not be paired to one of those glory hounds that have been prancing around like contestants in the West Minster Dog Show. They do nothing for me and seek only to better themselves and their position within your eyes,” she snarled, “I will not sacrifice my heart for politics.”

“You are a stubborn foolish girl!” her mother snarled abruptly, briefly forgetting her cultivated civility in her anger.

“Like mother like daughter!” Celune shot back.

“You watch your tone when you speak to your mother, Celune,” her father warned in his low voice.

“Why must you make this so difficult?” her mother questioned, once again in control of her temper.

“Because I want what you and father have!” Celune shouted suddenly, tears of anger and frustration pouring down her face, “I want to look at my mate each and every moment of each and every day and see the love in his eyes. Just as I see the love Father has for you every time he looks upon you and you look upon him. Is it so wrong for me to want that? It is so wrong for me to want someone I can share everything with? Why must I settle for less than what I know being mated can be? Why must my happiness be sacrificed to the demon of politics? I will not… I CANNOT!”

With that, Celune turned and bolted back out the door. She disappeared into the night.

“She is emotional,” her father said.

“She is hormonal,” her mother said.

“She is right,” they said in unison.

“Cleona, we cannot ask her to settle for a political pairing. Regardless of who we are, of our position in society, we are first and foremost her parents,”

“I know Remy. But the longer she waits the more chance that some male will claim her will she nil she.” Cleona sighed as she leaned her head on her husband’s broad shoulders. Always when she needed it, he lent her his strength. Never did she need it more than when dealing with their daughter.

“She has been with someone tonight,” Remy commented.

“You scented him too?” Cleona asked as she lifted her head.

“Yes,” Remy answered, “But I do not believe I am familiar with the scent. He is not from this city nor any of the other families that have approached us.”

“Where could she have met him?” Cleona wondered.

“I do not know. I will ask Jacques to find out.”

“Do you think he can still keep up with her?”

“As surely as I can keep up with you, my love,” he growled against her throat.

“Are you so sure that you can?” she teased in a soft whisper. She gasped as he scooped her up into his arms as easily as lifting a feather. He moved toward the staircase that led to the upper floors,

“I will prove it to you… repeatedly,” he purred as he nuzzled and nipped at her neck.

“He’s a what?” Cleona questioned very slowly. Jacques looked at her carefully. Usually that tone of voice boded ill.

“He is a professional wrestler,” Jacques repeated, “And he is Loupa. She has been watching him for some time. I believe she has been following him on the road, which would explain her extended absences. She seems quite taken with him. He goes by the name Hunter but I do not believe that is his birth name.”

“I want to meet him,” Cleona said softly.

“A very good idea. He should have presented himself as soon as he came into town,” Remy commented coldly, “Bring him to us Jacques. Extend our… invitation to dinner.”

“As you wish” Jacques said. He had known they would not take the news well. However, they hadn’t seen the look on Celune’s face when she looked upon this Hunter. Her body hummed in a matching rhythm to Hunter’s whether she realized it or not. Her body sent out her signal to his, letting him know she was there, drawing him to her.

Jacques stood one level above the entrance ramp. He needed to get close to Hunter, but he was reluctant to take his eyes off Celune. She was in the middle of a huge crowd and didn’t seem to be aware of it. Her eyes were locked on Hunter as if he was the only thing that existed. Of course, being in heat narrowed her focus to this one male. Sighing, Jacques effortlessly jumped over the railing before anyone could see him. He slipped easily and quickly behind the curtain. Then he tracked Hunter’s scent to his dressing room. He would wait there.

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byhrefnadrakis© 42 comments/ 137300 views/ 158 favorites

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