In the Beginning. Highland Wolves series no 1
Erotic romance or erotica with explicit sex scenes containing adult language leaving little or nothing to the imagination. Sex in wolf form, public exhibition.
In the beginning the Goddess, Luna, honoured four wolf shifter packs with her favour. To protect them against the hunters, Luna moved her four packs deeper into the Cairngorm range. There the settlements flourished.
Balvaird leads the Brodie pack, and he's worked hard to re-establish order since he took over. Now it's time for him to find a mate. When Morag wanders onto his territory she leads him a dance and sparks fly, but it's clear they are destined for each other.
So what can possibly go wrong? One rogue shifter is determined to have Morag for himself, but can he succeed against the will of the Goddess?
She’d better get back now. Her shift at the cookhouse started later tonight and she had chores to do before then. She turned to set off and found herself surrounded by four huge black wolves. How did they get there? I’ve never been taken unawares before. I can’t fight four of them, and they are depute law-keepers, so no point in trying to charm them. They are bi-sexual, but they can’t mate with females unless they become the LawKeeper. I wonder which territory they are from. How did I manage to stray so far?
One of them advanced toward her slowly, and then he gave the “yip” that meant “submit.” She had no choice. She couldn’t outrun them, so she dropped to her haunches and waited. He advanced toward her, circled her, sniffing her fur, and then he nipped her right ear twice,"Shift."
When she’d shifted into human form, the four did the same. She drew in a breath. Four tall, bronzed males stood before her. They were just like the depute law-keepers in her settlement. Wide, muscled chests, narrow hips, powerful thighs, and so well endowed. She lowered her eyes. It wasn’t polite to stare at a man’s private parts, but that had never stopped her and her friends from glancing and speculating.
“What are you doing in our territory, little one?” he asked. He towered over her. Six feet, eleven inches of delicious male flesh. Down, girl. He’s a depute law-keeper. One of those four is his mate. He’s not interested in me in that way. I suppose the gift of bi-sexuality and those gorgeous bodies are some compensation for the renunciation of home and family. It doesn’t stop me looking and longing, though. Auntie May’s right. I need a mate and soon.
“Who are you? I didn’t know it was your territory.” Attack is the best form of defence, after all.
“I’ll ask the questions, and, if I’m satisfied with your answers, I may well give you the information you want.”
Typical, arrogant depute law-keepers. This lot was just like the ones in Brora.
“My name is Morag of Brora.”
“My, my, you are far from home. Are there no rules in Brora about lone females straying so far from your home settlement?”
Sarcastic depute law-keeper. He knows damn well that there are. The Goddess gave the same rules to all four packs, after all. She thought about lying, but somehow she didn’t think that would be a good idea. So she fell back on what usually worked with the depute law-keepers in Brora.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said in her best girly voice. "I was so carried away by the spring and the beautiful wood that I just ran and ran without thinking.” Let’s see if that gets me anywhere.
“Did you now? Were you going anywhere in particular, or do you make a habit of this?”
“Oh no! I’m usually a good girl, but it’s spring and I needed the exercise.” She stretched and wiggled her arse, then giggled to herself. Waste of time, but it was worth a try.
“Well, Morag of Brora, there are penalties for trespassing on our lands. Come with us!”
“But, sir, I have a shift in the cookhouse tonight, and my chores to do first,” she pleaded in a breathy little voice.
“You should have thought about that earlier and returned to your settlement.” No cajoling this one.
“Yes, I know I was very foolish, sir. I won’t do it again, but it’s spring. After all that snow we had this winter, I was just aching to run the fidgets out of my hide. Don’t you ever get that urge?” she asked, dimpling up at him.
There was a snort of laughter from the other three.
“It seems we have a handful here!” one of them said.
“This one is tying you up in knots, Alex. What say we take her to DunBrodie and let the Darach deal with her? It will be amusing to see her try her tricks on him,” another suggested. Morag pouted and flounced, but it did no good. She was obliged to shift. Then the four of them, Alex in front, another behind, and the other two on either side of her, herded her through the beech woods and up into the mountains. They followed a narrow, tortuous track. Although they were forced to go in single file, there was no opportunity for her to escape. The sheer rock on one side and the steep drop on the other took care of that. She was left with no option but to keep moving forward, receiving the occasional encouraging nip if she slowed.
When they reached the settlement, the layout was exactly the same as DunBrora, so she knew where the Darach would be. This is going to take forever, and Auntie May is going to have my hide if I’m late. This stuffy old man is going to be slower than a snail. I bet he’s on his last legs. He’s going to want to know all about me, and I don’t have the time. How am I going to get out of this?
© Flora McGregor, Siren publishing 2016
“Because I’m your mate and I can read your emotions.”
Auntie May told me this would happen when I found my mate, but boy is it inconvenient.
“Does it work both ways?" She inquired, striving for a nonchalant tone.
“Oh, yes, of course it does. You just have to get used to it. Look at me and tell me what I’m feeling.”
She looked into his eyes and felt the colour flood her face, again.
“Oh,” she breathed.
“Just so. I’m well pleased with my mate, our love-making, and I’m aching to take you again. Did I say I love the way you colour up?”
She swatted him playfully, and he caught her arm, swinging her round into his embrace.
“Careful, little one. I’m horny and if you get too playful, I shall find a quiet spot and demonstrate what else I can do,” he warned her.
She felt excitement flood her body and she shivered in anticipation. Her legs trembled, but she took long, deep breaths to calm herself. This will never do. He’s not getting it all his own way, if I have anything to do with it.
“Will you now? Well, we’d better get along and bathe. It’s time for the pack run, soon,” she said. Why on earth did I say that?
“Oh, I know that, little one.”
She tossed her head, flicked her hair back over her shoulders, and stalked ahead of him. She heard his amused chuckle, and she vowed he’d pay.
When they reached the bath-house, the black wolf shifted to human form, fully intending, it seemed, to watch over his Darach. Balvaird smiled at the woman in charge and whispered in her ear. She directed a startled glance in Morag’s direction, but she said nothing. What’s he plotting now?
She soon found out. The woman attendant led them to an area of the bath-house that Morag had never visited. There were cubicles with large tubs and curtains to ensure privacy. Morag’s eyes grew round. Balvaird selected one and stood back to allow Morag to precede him. He followed her in and, nodding to his depute law-keeper who remained outside, drew the curtain across the entrance.
He turned on the taps and then, taking off his clothes, placed them on the bench. He leaned over to test the water. He displayed a muscular backside and round, heavy balls as he bent much further over than was necessary, in her opinion. She sucked in a breath and ground her teeth. He’s messing with me. Drat him. I’ll give him some of his own medicine.
Balvaird settled in the bath and watched her. He looked supremely at his ease with a satisfied smirk on his face. She’d soon change that. Slowly, she started to undo the buttons on her shirt, starting to pull it off, but then stopped. Changing her mind, she pretended to arrange her towel on the bench and look for a peg on which to hang her clothes. Finding none, she’d be obliged to fold them, and a wicked thought occurred to her. She turned her back on Balvaird. As she slowly pushed her skirt down over her hips, she removed her knickers stepping daintily out of them both. Letting fall her skirt and knickers, she bent from the waist to pick them up and heard Balvaird draw in a breath. She well knew what was on display to tempt him. She folded her skirt and placed it on the bench, and then she repeated the pantomime with her knickers. She heard him growl a warning.
“Be careful what you are about, little one.”
She shrugged her shoulders, turned toward him, and oh so slowly removed her blouse. She folded it and placed it on the bench with her skirt and knickers. She turned to face him and stretched her arms way above her head. Before she realized what he was about, he’d leaped out of the bath and seized her. He threw her over his shoulder and returned to the water, allowing her to slide down his length as he stood in the hot, soapy suds. As she slid down his lean, wet body, she met his cock, which was fully erect, and she gasped.
“Now you’re going to relieve the pain you’ve caused,” he said gruffly. He turned her and placed her on her knees in the water. She grasped the sides of the tub. He knelt behind her, his cock demanding entrance, but he wasn’t quite ready. He bent over and bit her shoulder. He found her breasts with his hands, and pinching, pulling, and tweaking, he drove her so wild that she pushed her hips into him and he chuckled.
“Teasing is a two-edged sword, as you are about to find out, little one.”
He grasped her hips and pushed his cock between her swollen pussy lips. She was wet and slick, and he entered her easily. She felt so full. When he withdrew, his dick slid over some part of her and the sensation of pleasure was heightened.
A few questions for the author
Q: How did you come to write this story?
A: I was talking to Sage Marlowe about wolf shifters when the idea for this series came to me. I sat down to plot it, and then it took over and I began to write.
I live in Dumfries and Galloway in Southern Scotland, although I was born in South Yorkshire. I spent many happy years teaching, and when I retired, I became bored with just the domestic routine. My youngest son challenged me to write a novel of my own, and I wrote Initiation, book one in the Prometheus in Chains series. I don't think it was quite the sort of book he had in mind, but all my family have been very supportive and encouraged me to carry on writing. Writing has become an important part of my life. It’s been like a roller-coaster ride, and a very pleasurable one at that. When I sent off my first book to Siren, I had no idea what I was setting in motion. I joined Facebook, something I never dreamed I’d do, but I have made many good friends on there, some readers and some fellow authors. Writing has certainly changed my life.
Siren Publishing http://www.bookstrand.com/flora-mcgregor
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