Mate for Life

"How beautiful," she breathed, twisting about to take it all in at once. "And no one knows of this place?"

"Very few," Daegon said quietly, squeezing her hand and kissing it.

"I don't blame you for not sharing," she smiled at him, touching his cheek. "I'm honored."

He smiled, pleased that she grasped its importance. He wanted badly to kiss her again, had barely restrained himself from following her into her room at the tavern when they had stopped in to grab their gear. Her scent had dimmed some, more of a banking of the flames than burning out, but it was still there, teasing his senses, making his head swim when he inhaled too close to her. He carefully didn't move any closer. He needed her to see first.

As if plucking the thought from his head, she eyed him seriously and spoke. "This isn't all of what you wanted to show me." It wasn't a question, and he nodded, letting go her hand and stepping back a pace.

He began to disrobe, setting his weapons and clothes neatly on a rock nearby, Emmy watching curiously. He was completely unconcerned being naked before her, and was unsurprised that she took his nudity in stride. She was, after all, a healer. Her scent rose, however, and he grinned to himself, glad that she was not as unaffected as she seemed. Taking a deep breath, he locked eyes with her and shifted.

The change was briefly agonizing as usual, and the energy it took shimmered the air around him. Emmy watched, wide eyed and fascinated, as his form bent and swelled, hair shooting out of his skin, face lengthening and a tail growing so fast she couldn't track it at all. In little more than the space of six heartbeats, the wolf howled, releasing the pain of transformation, and padded over to her, softly chuffing. She knelt, and Daegon nosed her cheek, for all the world looking like an oversized dog, making small whimpering noises of greeting as he nuzzled her face. She rubbed her cheek against his furry one and pulled back to catch his eyes. They were Daegon's, large and dark and very human, alien and almost shocking in their intelligence. She smiled, cupping the large shaggy face between her hands, and touched noses with him.

"You're beautiful," she breathed, and he growled a little in protest. "No, really," she laughed. "Very handsome."

That seemed to mollify him, and she sat on the springy grass, Daegon flopping beside her, head in her lap. Emmy stroked his fur, scratching behind his ears, and he whined in pleasure. "Is this the only form you take?" she asked curiously, and he raised his head, looking at her thoughtfully before shaking it emphatically. "How many?" she asked, and he gave her such a pointed look she laughed. "Oh, sorry, of course you can't answer. Yes or no questions to start, hm?" He nodded, eyes twinkling at her, and licked her face, just because he could and knew she wouldn't stop him. "More than three?" He shook his head and licked her again. She giggled. "Three then, human, wolf, and...." Emmy cocked her head at him, and he looked suddenly wary. "You're afraid of me seeing you in that other form, aren't you?" she asked softly. He whined and backed away, but she didn't seem frightened. With a deep growling sigh, he shimmered again.

This was more painful, Emmy could tell, and she held her breath watching him writhe with agony. It took longer, which mystified her when she beheld the results. Logically, to transform to half-human wolf should not be more difficult than human to wolf, but it seemed it was. His roar when complete was darker, more dangerous. And the outcome was simply breathtaking.

She had heard of lycanthropes, of course, everyone had. Almost every adventurer she had met had spun tales of battling terrifying monsters that were half-animal, half men and every cleric she knew studied how to protect themselves and their parties from being infected. But she had never seen one; they were rarer than the stories implied. And universally, they were accepted to be evil creatures, chaotic and violent, that disdained human life and fed off their flesh if they could.

Daegon was none of those things.

Tall, strong, and beautifully built, his head a blend of human and wolf, long snouted but much more mobile a mouth and jaw. His arms were powerful and ending in hands that were shortened and stubbier than a man's but still obviously able to grasp as well as claw, nails long and thick and pointed. His feet were more paw like, balanced to run bipedal or on all fours, leg muscles highly developed. She imagined he could jump astonishingly high and far if he chose. His torso was more man than beast, the chest as wide as it was in human form, tapering to slim hips and....She was on her feet now, not realizing she had even stood, staring at the gloriously beautiful creature standing in a patch of wildflowers, his deep brown fur edged in gold by the sunlight.

"You know now," a deep growling voice tore her gaze from the most male part of him. Having caught a glimpse as he had disrobed, she was quite certain the dimensions weren't all that far off. "You don't seem afraid," he observed, his voice so different from the light teasing she was used to.

"I'm not," she said, rather breathlessly, but with complete sincerity.

"You should be," he took a step toward her, all muscle and powerful grace. She swallowed, not from fear. Her emotions were jumbled; she could smell the magic and earthy musk of him, and without realizing it, moved closer.

"You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen," she said simply, taking another step, her hand reaching out to touch him. He was warm, much warmer than human, and she could feel the pulse of his blood under the fur. She took his hand, both of hers almost disappearing in the large paw like grip, then turned it over, studying it with fascination. The palms were heavily calloused, the fur softer and less shaggy, made to run on. She felt him tremble as she kissed it and looked into his face. "I could never be afraid of you." She paused. "Do you want me to be?"

"No," he made a sound that was a lot like a cough and realized he was laughing. His body relaxed, the tenseness in his shoulders easing. "No, that's not what I want at all."

"What do you want?" she whispered, tilting her head to watch his face as he closed the distance between them.

"You," he said simply, and enfolded her in his warmth.

He couldn't kiss her properly, and growled in frustration, settling for nuzzling her and tracing his tongue along the line of her jaw. She shivered, holding him close, rubbing her cheek over his fur. His heart was beating fast, almost dangerously so, and she pulled away, putting a hand to his chest and biting her lip with concern.

"Perfectly normal," he assured her. "Stronger in this form, too." He cupped one furry paw under her chin and looked down at her, eyes shining. "You really don't care, do you?"

"Why should I?" she asked. "You're you, no matter what. There's no evil in you," she smiled, unable to help touching him, running her hands over the silky fur of his chest. "Cleric, remember? I'd know," she teased gently.

"That's not normal," he warned. "Most of my kind are." His breath was a bit faster, tongue lolling a bit as he panted, mesmerized by her touch. She giggled, thinking the wolfish look on his face endearing.

"You're not most kind," she informed him, stepping into his embrace again. "Normal is overrated, anyway."

He barked, but it was such a happy sound she couldn't help but laugh with him. Setting her away from his body, the air thrummed with power again, leaving just Daegon, roaring in pain, crouching on the grass. He caught his breath as the agony ceased and looked at her, his smile crooked. He looked around for his clothes, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Don't," she said softly, crouching next to him.

He stared at her a moment, his eyes tracing her face as if trying to memorize every line. His smile shone like the sun as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. His kiss was not gentle, and she met it with a fierceness that took his breath away. He wondered briefly if her order had been celibate, then didn't care as his mouth took hers with a controlled ferocity that made her moan. Her hands were everywhere, soft and hot and exploring, and when she grasped his cock he almost howled from need. He didn't know how her robes managed to disappear, he only knew she was hot and round and soft in his hands, quivering under his kisses, arching against him. He wanted to go slower, but she smelled so good, like pack and musk and moonlight, her scent was all around him, calling her mate. And he came to her, strong and growling, finding her slick center and making her his with one smooth hard thrust.

She cried out as he began to stroke, her hips undulating, meeting his thrusts, and he got his hands under her, gripping her buttocks to pull her even closer. Her orgasm broke over them both, sudden and powerful, her inner muscles clamping down hard. He growled again, kissing her mouth, tongue thrusting in time with his cock, swallowing her moans. He felt her cum again, twice more, shuddering and gasping in his arms, and somehow managed to haul her up to straddle his lap, wanting to hold her, feel her skin on his. Emmy wrapped her arms around him, kissing his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, making deep purring sounds as his cock pleasured her beyond anything she'd experienced before. She arched away from him as he nuzzled down her throat, kissing his way to her breasts, capturing one nipple between his lips and sucking strongly. She groaned, spasming again as he suckled, then turned his attention to the other side, marveling at all her noises and shivering as she dragged her nails down his back.

Lifting his head from her glorious breasts, he kissed her lips again and pulled out over her whimpering protests. Hands on her hips, he gently slid her off his lap and nudged her to her hands and knees, wasting no time in getting his cock back into her hot slick heat. She moaned, a long keening sound of pure pleasure, as he reached under to tease her clit with one long clever finger. Taking her from behind intensified his need, and he curled his hand into her hair, thrusting hard and fast into her willing softness. She gave as good as she got, hips slamming against his pelvis with every stroke. He howled with delight as she reached under to cup his balls, heavy and beginning to tighten as he sought release. His free hand grasped one large breast, squeezing and pinching the nipple. Abandoning her hair, he grabbed both breasts in his large hands, hearing her moan as the pace quickened.

The sweat on her skin made sliding his hands down to her waist smooth and erotic as their pace increased to frenzy. She shuddered and came, this time so hard he wondered if he would be trapped, and didn't care, knowing he'd never get enough of her, never want her any less, always be alert for her voice, her touch, her smell. With that thought, he felt her open to him completely, taking him so deep he couldn't tell where he ended and she began, and she began to sob, begging him to mark her, never stop, make her his. He needed no other invitation, bending over her body, he licked the spot where her neck and shoulder met, and bit, just hard enough to break the skin, kissing away the sting as he erupted inside her. She clamped down, then released, caressing in rhythm of his cock, moving so seamlessly with him he could not imagine that a week ago he had never known her, milking him as he shuddered and felt his legs tremble with the effort not to collapse. And somehow she managed to turn, his now softening member sliding out of her, laying back with her arms held out, and he paused only long enough to kiss her before gathering her up in his arms to doze in the warmth of the sun.

Thwack.

Emmy's arrow buried itself in the second ring, just below her last one. Daegon watched critically, calling out encouragement and instruction as she let fly again.

"You're improving amazingly fast," he commented with pride as he helped her recover her arrows from the butts. "I've never seen anything like it."

Emmy bit her lip as she tugged at a particularly deeply embedded one. "Not so much with blades," she said ruefully as she almost stumbled, the arrowhead suddenly releasing with a crackle from the straw.

"True," Daegon admitted with a smile. "You're already proficient with a mace, though. That will do. What is it with you and swords?" he asked for the hundredth time.

"Don't know," she said cheerfully. "Don't care."

"Swords are efficient," he grumbled. "Damn shame."

"I told you," she reminded him, lining up to empty her quiver yet again. Daegon insisted on drilling her mercilessly, and truth to tell, she loved it. After only a week, Emmy could hit nearly anything she aimed at. "But I love shooting," she smiled as three shafts struck the bull's eye in quick succession. "You're an amazing teacher."

He was tempted to ask why she hadn't discovered her talent when her late husband had attempted to train her, but he was reluctant to invite comparison. Garrick, from what he had gathered, had been a good man, and devoted to his wife. Daegon had no intention of sullying the fighter's memory. And he was honest enough with himself to admit that he didn't have any wish to come out the lesser in her eyes. He smiled at her enthusiasm, delighted at sharing a talent with this extraordinary woman. It was almost eerie how fast she had become proficient.

"Timed now," he called.

Emmy immediately slung her bow over her shoulder and stood, poised for battle, midway between the three butts. When Daegon called "Now!" she swung the bow around, plucked an arrow from her quiver, and commenced shooting, turning to aim and let fly as Daegon called "Left! Right! Center!" in random order and intervals. "Not bad at all," he encouraged, grinning. Emmy had hit every target, not always perfectly, but still impressively enough to make him whistle in appreciation. She grinned at her lover as he made a victory sign. They repeated this several times, having her start further away, to the left or right, always shifting her position. Finally, Daegon signaled her to stop. She stowed her weapon, carefully checking each arrow for damage before tidily sliding them away. She moved to him and he reached for her, kissing her long and deep before pulling back and noting how her arms trembled ever so slightly.

"You're getting stronger," he observed, and she smiled a bit tiredly. "Those exercises are paying off."

"I have a relentless taskmaster," she deadpanned. "A real brute."

"I'll have a word with him," Daegon promised solemnly. "Can't have someone slave driving my girl."

She laughed at that, then groaned with pleasure as he turned her around and skillfully kneaded the tight muscles of her neck and shoulders.

"You're lucky I've given up teaching you to use a sword," he teased. "Imagine how sore you'd be then." He paused in his massage and nuzzled her just behind her ear. "Maybe we should ask Bran or Dehn to try," he suggested. "I hold my own, but those two are way ahead of me."

Emmy turned and caught his chin in her fingers, looking at him seriously. "I. Loathe. Swords." She said succinctly.

He chuckled and pulled her close. "So you've demonstrated," he agreed, recalling several disastrous sparring sessions. Daegon had finally admitted defeat when Emily had nearly impaled her own foot with an ill-timed and clumsy attack. She had threatened to break his favorite long sword over a rock when he hadn't swallowed his laughter fast enough. "I promise. No more swords."

"Mace is good enough for melee," she said serenely, snuggling close. "It's not like I'll stop being a cleric."

"I wouldn't want you to," he said sincerely. "And you're good with a mace," he added fairly.

They made their way hand in hand back to the tavern, where they were surprised to see Bran on his favorite bench, sipping a tankard of ale. He raised an eyebrow at their linked hands and grinned.

"Well, well, well. Fast work, Daeg."

Daegon scowled as Emmy blushed, tightening his hand around hers as she started to pull away. "Glenna finally come to her senses?" he countered, tucking Emily securely under his arm. "You're back early."

Bran flushed, scowled back, and drained his ale. "Fair hit," he acknowledged with a rather reluctant grin. "Nah, she's inside. She was worried about Emmy."

"Me?" Emily's brows drew together in puzzlement. "Why?"

"Ask her," Bran said with a careless shrug. "I'm sure I don't have any idea."

Emmy kissed Daegon's cheek and hurried inside to find her cousin. Daegon thought about following, but discarded that notion as soon as it hit. This smelled of female business, and he was certain his presence would not be welcome. Better to let Emmy deal with it. He signaled a passing wench for ale, and sat by Bran.

"What's this with Emmy, then?" Bran asked, the seriousness of his expression taking Daegon by surprise. "I never figured you for settling down." He peered at his friend, noting how the ranger watched Emily through the open door of the inn, and nudged him. Daegon looked startled as he met Bran's knowing stare. "You've got it bad, brother," he observed with a wink. "Do I need to polish my armor for the ceremony?"

Daegon smiled slowly, with no hint of embarrassment. "Maybe."

"No maybe about it, I think," Bran grinned broadly. His eyes grew thoughtful. "I assume she knows?"

"Yeah," Daegon nodded. "She's tougher than she looks."

"So Glenna says, and she would know," Bran nodded sagely. "There's more to her than meets the eye, our Emily," he said with a short bark of laughter. "Saw that the minute I met her. I had a feeling you two would hit it off," he added, clapping Daegon on the shoulder companionably.

"You were right." And that was all he was willing to say. Bran raised his tankard in a friendly salute, and Daegon returned the gesture, taking a deep swallow of his ale. "She's going to make one hell of a ranger," he said abruptly.

"Really?" Bran didn't sound terribly surprised, and Daegon reflected on how often people underestimated his leader's perceptiveness. Big and genial in his manner, the warrior was far shrewder than most gave him credit for. Daegon filled him in on the last week's events, carefully edited.

"Can't wait to see her beat you in archery," Bran grinned wickedly, and Daeg laughed.

"She will, one of these days," he said with pride. "She's got a ways to go yet, but I expect she'll get there sooner than anyone would believe."

"All to the good for the party," Bran said with satisfaction. "Man, I love my life."

Daegon grinned.

"Emmy!" Glenna leaped to her feet when she saw her kinswoman enter the tavern, dashing over to throw her arms around Emily.

"Oof," Emily grunted with the force of Glenn's impact and hugged her back. "What's gotten into you?"

"I had a dream, a vision," Glenna explained, drawing Emmy over to where she and Fizzy had set up a table. "And you were in danger."

"Er, Glenn, sweetie, I'm a member of a party of adventurers, that sort of goes with the job," Emmy grinned. "Same one you belong to, remember? Hi Fizzy," she smiled and tossed a wave at the thief, taking a seat. Fitz grinned, and nodded around a mouthful of her lunch.

"Yeah, yeah," Glenna said impatiently. "This is serious."

"Okay," Emmy said, helping herself to the dishes scattered on the table. "Oh yum, Dinah's roast beef, I'm starved." She began to build a sandwich, drizzling a bit of gravy on warm slices of pink-tinged beef and adding some butter and grassy looking vegetation.

"Emmy!" Glenna snapped. "I saw you get abducted."

Emily paused her chewing and stared.

"I said it was important," Glenna scowled at her cousin. "Stay with someone at all times, okay? Don't be alone." She let that sink in, Emily swallowing and clearing her throat with a sip of ale. "Stick with Daegon," Glenna suggested. "He's very protective, and you seem to like him. He sure as hell likes you." She gave Emily a knowing grin, and she looked from Glenna to Fizzy, who gazed at her with friendly curiosity, nodding as if confirming Glenna's observation. Emily was too surprised to even blush.