The Hungry Wolf Ch. 02

"This is my guest, my particular friend. If you disrespect Ms Bell, you disrespect me." He pulled Charlie to him, putting his arm around her shoulders. He was angry, even Charlie could tell. "Now, leave us be, Mira. I will not ask you again," he said, looking at her and seething. It should have made Charlie nervous, seeing that anger so plainly written, but it didn't. She was certain, for some reason, that Damien would never do anything to hurt her.

'Do not push me,' Damien sent to her.

'Oh please,' she shot back. 'She's a human. Barely a step up from food.'

'MIRABELL!' Darian sent. He'd "heard" the entire exchange through his twin.

'Yes, Alpha.'

'Come to my office IMMEDIATELY.'

'Thank you, brother,' Damien sent.

'Don't thank me yet,' he warned.

"Sorry. My mistake," Mira said, her face suddenly a bit pale. "I believe I am needed elsewhere. It was...nice to meet you, Ms Bell."

"Nice for whom?" Charlie asked, eyebrow cocked. Mira declined to answer, and instead hurried off towards the main house. Charlie watched her go, a small smile on her lips.

Charlie glanced at Damien to find him looking back at her. She thought he would look embarrassed or still angry, but he only looked concerned for her. She tried not to smile at the worry in his eyes.

"Do you have a spouse, Damien?" she asked, looking at him closely.

"No." He gave one of those short, surprised, barking laughs again, and her smile broke free. She liked surprising him into laughing like that.

"Girlfriend?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"She's one of our staff here. We dated off and on, but it was never serious."

"Does she know that?" She gave him a small smile, her eyebrows raised. She was obviously familiar with Damien -- intimately familiar. A woman doesn't behave like that if she doesn't feel she has some claim to. It made her feel envious, and she silently chastised herself for thinking she had any kind of right or claim to Damien's affections, telling herself it was better he had someone else.

"Are you jealous, dolcezza?"

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous. Of course not," she said, blushing, chagrined he picked up on it so easily. Reminding herself she was passing through, and even if being around Damien made her ache to think about it, she knew she would be leaving as soon as her car was fixed.

He pulled his arm back, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. He led her in to the barn, walking through the open doors, stopping over the threshold to give her time to adjust. The warm smells of horse and leather and hay hit her instantly. It wasn't unpleasant, just strong and, to Charlie, new. Her nose wrinkled a bit and she glanced up at Damien, seeing his do the same.

"You get used to it quickly," he said, leading her down a central passageway with stalls on either side. The floor was bare ground, hard packed and strewn here and there with hay. She could see a second row of stalls behind the ones lining the main passageway on either side. He stopped in front of the doors on the other end of the barn and finally released her hand.

"How many horses do you have?" she asked, looking around in amazement. Between the main ranch house and the barn, she was beginning to think Damien and his brother were much more than just 'ranchers'. While not showy or opulent, it was clear they enjoyed a certain level of luxury she had never known.

"Sixteen total. Have you ever ridden?"

"No, not really."

"Not really?" he prompted, grinning at her and moving towards a stall.

"Well, I am assuming the ponies going in a circle at the county fair don't actually constitute horseback riding experience, right?"

"Really?" he looked at her with frank disbelief as he went in to a stall with a beautiful brown and white horse.

"Yeah," she said with a shrug. "It wasn't like there were a lot of people with horses in Los Angeles. Not in my neighborhood, at least."

"I couldn't imagine living in a city like that," he said, leading the horse out and over towards Charlie. She stiffened up, nervous at the sheer size of the animal. "So crowded."

"It was and it wasn't."

"Oh?" he stood in front of the horse, holding it's gaze and stroking down its nose.

"Sometimes you have to make your own oasis."

"Yes, I guess you do." The horse bobbed his head, as if in agreement, and Damien chuckled softly. "Hamlet agrees with you."

"Hamlet?" She looked at him closely to see if he was having her on. "You named your horse after Shakespeare's Danish Prince?"

"I went through a phase," he shrugged.

"Uh huh. So, a horse named Hamlet..."

"Well, there's Hamlet, Desdemona, Othello, King Lear and Goneril."

"Goneril? You chose her over Cordelia?"

"She was a bit ill-tempered, so it fit." He beckoned to her. "Come here," he said, holding a rope out to her. "Hold him while I get his gear."

"Hold him?" she asked, going pale. "Hold him how?"

"Just hold the rope." He smelled her fear and looked at her closely. "Don't be afraid, dolcezza," he said, his voice low and soothing. "He will not hurt you. But he can sense your fear, and it will make him nervous." He reached out and grabbed Charlie's wrist, tugging her until she stood next to him. He put the lead into her right hand and lifted her left, making her pet Hamlet near his mane, moving her hand with the lay of his hair down his neck. "Just stay calm, and he will, too."

Charlie stood next to the horse, Damien's voice lulling her fears, the rope loosely held in her right hand, her left stroking the animal. The horse, for all her fear, seemed unconcerned with her, giving his attention instead to a bag hanging on the outside of another stall. He took a step forward to nudge it with his nose, and Charlie thought she could see disappointment in his eyes when he found the bag empty. "I know exactly how you feel," she whispered to the horse, smiling.

"Better, dolcezza?" Damien asked, walking over with a saddle in his hands and leather strips with metal pieces at the ends around his neck.

"What does that mean?"

"I mean are you more relaxed?" He grinned at her.

"Funny," she shook her head. "You keep calling me 'dolcezza'. What does that mean?"

"Ah. It's an Italian term of endearment."

"Which means?"

"Sweetness." He dropped the gear on a tall table and walked over to her, bending to brush a light kiss on her temple. "It fits." She looked away from him, a slight blush tinting her cheeks.

"What is all that?" she asked, pointing to the pile of equipment sitting on top of the saddle.

Damien smiled at her diversion tactics and took the rope out of her hand, pulling her over to the table. He picked up the brush and started brushing Hamlet, making the coat shiny and smooth. He put the brush back and began showing her the different gear, explaining in great detail as he readied Hamlet. Charlie watched, enrapt, as he quickly and easily moved about the horse. She didn't really pay attention to what he was saying or doing, focusing instead on him, the way he moved, the sound of his voice. He got the saddle situated and snugged down, turning towards Charlie, realizing she was staring at him.

"You are so beautiful, Charlie."

"I'm...," she shook her head, as if to clear it. "I'm not going to be tested on this, am I?" she asked, changing the subject.

"No, you're not," he said with another bark of laughter, "Come on," he motioned for her to follow him as he moved them outside the barn and onto a wide path with large corrals on either side. He stopped them and motioned for her to stand with him. "To mount your horse, hold the reins with your left hand, laying your hand on the withers," he put the reins in her hand and placed it on the horse, noticing they were shaking a bit. "You'll be fine, dolcezza. I will be with you the whole time," he whispered in her ear, his voice low and soothing.

"Promise?" she whispered back.

"I'll be right behind you."

"Okay." Charlie took a deep breath and nodded, more to herself than Damien. "What's next?"

"Next, place your left foot firmly in the stirrup," he paused to help her set her foot, "and hold the saddle at the waist with your right hand."

"The waist?"

"Here," he said, guiding her hand to the area below the pommel. "Don't pull on it. Just use it as a platform to leverage yourself up."

"Right," she said, her voice shaky.

"Push yourself up off your right leg, using your left leg to lift you up, and then swing your right leg over the horse, being careful not to plop in to the saddle."

"Excuse me?" she said incredulously, looking back at Damien over her shoulder, her nerves forgotten momentarily.

"Just try, Charlie." He smiled reassuringly at her. "I'm right here to catch you."

"Catch me?" she said with a squeak.

"You won't fall. Trust me."

Charlie took a deep breath and pushed off with her right foot, forcing her right hand across the saddle and making her lose her balance. "Dammit," she said under her breath. She tried again, getting a little higher this time before falling back, pulling her left foot out of the stirrup in the process. She seated it back in and tried a third time, almost raising her self up completely before her left hand slid down and she leaned forward, smacking her head on the saddle and making Hamlet take a step to the side. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered, stopping to collect herself.

"You really are clumsy," Damien said, smiling at her frustration.

"This isn't funny, cowboy," she said, trying to glare at him but fighting a smile of her own.

"It is a little bit from this point of view," he teased, mimicking her words from earlier. He stepped up to her, pressing against her back and giving her a kiss on the top of her head. "Let me help you."

"No." She took a deep breath and nudged him away from her with her shoulders. "Let me do this on my own. Just...stay close, okay?"

"Of course."

She turned her attention back to Hamlet, positioning herself as Damien had instructed her. She closed her eyes, taking deep, even breaths as she ran over what he said in her head. She opened her eyes, bouncing a bit on the ball of her right foot before pushing up again. She almost made it, but hesitated at the last moment before swinging her right leg over, causing her to fall back. She stood for another moment, bouncing again before pushing off. Finally, she was able to lift up and swing her leg over. She landed softly but gracelessly in the saddle, her hips askew on it, making her right leg dangle lower than her left.

"I did it!" she said with a gleeful smile.

"You did!" Damien laughed up at her. "Now slide your bottom forward and into the center of the saddle." He watched as she positioned herself. "Take the reins in both hands and leave them slack. This will keep Hamlet still."

"Like this?" she asked, following his directions to the letter.

"Perfect," he said. He placed his left hand on the withers and the next thing Charlie knew he had lifted himself up to sit behind her.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you I'd be right behind you."

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

"I thought you meant on a different horse."

"No." He pressed against her, sliding his hands from her hips to her thighs. "Do you want me to get down?" he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

"Huh? Ah...no," she said after a moment. "You just surprised me is all."

"Good. Because I wasn't going to anyway." He kissed her cheek as she laughed. "Now, to steer, you can use your legs or the reins, but don't use both, as that will confuse him."

"Okay."
"In either case, Hamlet will respond to pressure, and move to the opposite side of it, from the reins or your leg. Understand?"

"I think so. To move left I press with my right leg or use the right rein, to move right I use the left."

"Perfect. To stop, you can squeeze gently with both legs or pull with the reins as you are now. But that can be tricky. Too much pressure can cause the horse to rear. Hamlet won't," he hurriedly added at her slight whimper. "He's the gentlest horse we have, and the easiest to ride. But different horses have different temperaments, so you should know how to act safely."

"Alright."

"Are you ready to start riding?"

"Not really," Charlie said with a laugh. "But it's not like that's going to change, so we might as well get it over with."

"Nice enthusiasm, Charlie. Glad to see you're enjoying yourself."

"Nice of you to show a girl such a good time," she retorted, surprising another laugh out of him.

"Okay, to get your horse to move, sit up straight and tilt your hips forward." She did, her movement causing her ass to brush against his cock, and he closed his eyes against the sensation. "Relax the reins and give them a slight flick, like this," he said, putting his hands over hers. "Just barely flex your wrists." He moved their hands together and Hamlet started forward. "Relax a bit, dolcezza," he said, nuzzling her neck.

"I'm trying, Damien."

They walked at an easy pace, the gentle swaying of the horse translating to their bodies, keeping them in constant contact. The day was warm and quiet, and Damien guided Charlie through the ranch, showing her his favorite places on the grounds. Eventually, he let her decide their direction and relaxed against her.

"Tell me about growing up here, Damien."

"What do you want to know?"

"What was it like to grow up with so much space?"

"It was wonderful," he sighed. Charlie smiled at the happiness so evident in his voice. "We all ran and rode to our hearts' content. Swimming in the creeks. Fishing. Hunting. Sleeping outside."

"Sounds like a very Twain childhood."

"Twain?"

"Yeah. Very Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer. Adventurous."

"It was. It was charmed."

"What happened to your parents?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. After Darlene mat- uh, married Grant Copley, they kind of retired and moved to Italy."

"Oh? They're still alive?"

"Very much so." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "I wish they were closer. I would love for you to meet them."

"So they left the ranch to you and your brother?" His wish for her to meet his parents made her feel apprehensive at the same time it made her heart swell, and she was hard pressed to decide which it did more, so she changed the subject.

"Yes. Well, Darlene has a small stake in it, too. As do all our family members and hands."

"All of them?"

"Yep. The ranch is more a communal concern than capitalist."

"Ah. Veddy goot, comrade," Charlie laughed softly, doing her best Soviet imitation.

"Nothing that Marxist, I assure you," Damien said, laughing with her. "We just all share in the success -- and failure -- and that makes it stronger." He sighed slightly; again, he wasn't lying to her, but he was glossing over a lot. "It's always been this way, ever since my grandfather moved the family here."

"One big extended family?"

"Somewhat."

"You're right. Your life is charmed." She sighed and leaned back against him.

"More so now that you're in it," he whispered in her ear, tightening his arms around her waist slightly.

They wandered in silence for bit after that, moving into the woods of the foothills to escape the sun. Damien had his chin on her shoulder, just breathing her in. She seemed so relaxed with him, he decided to try and get her talking.

"What are the scars on your stomach, Charlie?" Damien asked as they meandered along a creek. Charlie just shut her eyes and shook her head. She knew she had to tell Damien, but she didn't want to yet. It was totally selfish, she knew it was, to keep getting them both riled up and then running away, but she still wasn't ready to tell him, she wanted to keep the fantasy alive for a little while longer. "Tell me." She shook her head again. "Are you not going to talk to me at all anymore?" She smiled and shrugged at his teasing. Damien tightened his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her left shoulder. "Well, then I'll just have to find a way to make you talk." Charlie smiled and shook her head. "That seems like a challenge to me. I accept."

Damien moved her hair to lay over her right shoulder and began kissing her neck. He subtly scooted forward in the saddle, pushing her forward so her crotch was pressed against the rise in front of the pommel and rubbed with each sway of the horse. He sucked at her earlobe and smiled as he felt her shiver. He could smell her getting aroused, and moved his hands to gently cup her breasts, squeezing one then the other, making her gasp. He moved his mouth back to her neck, sucking and biting at her skin.

"Damien," Charlie moaned, tilting her head.

"Hmmm?"

"You have to stop," she whimpered.

"Don't I make you feel good?" he whispered, squeezing her breasts more firmly. He pressed himself against her, letting his cock rub on her as he pushed her pussy more firmly against the saddle. "Doesn't this feel good?"

"Yes." Charlie arched her back, pressing her breasts more firmly against his hands.

"I want you, Charlotte. And you want me."

"Damien." Another whimper.

"You don't want me to stop, do you dolcezza?"

"Please..."

"Please?"

"Please stop," she said, dropping the reins and grabbing his wrists.

"Let me make you feel good."

"Please. Please stop." She took a deep breath and pulled at his wrists, lifting her head off his shoulder.

"Why?"

"It's a long story."
"I'm not going anywhere." He reached in front of her and took the reins, stopping the horse. "Let's sit for a while." He got down and helped Charlie off the horse, taking her hand with one of his and the reins with his other. He led them towards the creek, loosely tying Hamlet to a low branch close enough for him to drink. He moved himself and Charlie towards a tree, seating them both in its shade so they faced each other.

"Talk."

She looked at him for a moment and then looked away. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Why are you fighting this?"

"Does it matter? I'm leaving in a few days, anyway."

Damien's wolf bristled at her statement, but he forced himself to answer rationally. "You're going to Oregon, Charlie. Not another country."

"Long distance doesn't work."

"It's a few hours' drive. Hardly long distance." He cupped her cheek, lifting her face until she was looking at him. "I'd be willing to try, doclezza. I'd be willing to make that drive every weekend."

The certainty of his words pierced her heart. She somehow knew he was sincere, and he would, in fact, be willing to travel much farther for her. Charlie knew she needed to be honest with him, to open up wholly about her past before he staked any further feelings on her. She felt drawn to him, like he soothed a chronic physical ache she didn't know she had. When she looked inside herself she realized she couldn't bear to hurt him, and no matter how badly she wanted to wrap herself up in his comfort, he deserved to know why it wouldn't, couldn't happen between them. It scared her and broke her heart to have to tell him, but she knew she had no choice. She took his hand and kissed his palm, giving him a small, sad smile. "Hear me out, okay? Completely. Before you make such reckless promises."

"Okay."

She let go of his hand and took another deep breath, letting it out with a shaky sigh. Giving him a small smile, she began talking. "I suppose I should start at the beginning. That's usually the best place:

"There was a young woman named Joan. She was quite pretty. Petite. Fair skin and dark brown hair. She had two very striking features: her eyes -- which were a deep golden color -- and her voice. She had a wonderful singing voice. She had quite a successful career. Not fame, but steady studio and jingle work, as well as a regular gig singing in a very popular nightclub.

"One night, a tall, dark stranger came in to the nightclub and fell in love with Joan. David was suave. He was handsome. He swept Joan off her feet. Bought her a diamond necklace. Bought her a diamond bracelet. Promised her the moon and stars, and a life away from the smoky night club. Promised her a home. A family. Vowed his eternal love for her. Seduced her. Got her pregnant.