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Brielle

However, I quickly learned that guarding my heart was easier said than done.

“Fawn?” My voice came out as a harsh whisper; my throat was dry, and my body ached as I rolled and cracked my stiff neck.

Despite living in a literal enchanted forest with babbling brooks filled with sweet water, my pesky skin condition and an underlying ailment that no healer seemed able to fix made it so that I stayed as dry as a desert, both inside and out.

Maybe that was why I was such a frosty bitch since birth.

I rose from our bed, suffocated by the quaintness of Fawn’s cottage once again.

Our initial days together were more awkward than I had hoped, and we rarely crossed paths other than our morning and evening meals.

I would hunt and train and brood, and she would frolic, I guessed.

I never asked, though she always came home smelling of wildflowers.

For a week, we had settled into an uneasy rhythm, both of us wondering who would make the first move.

It was my duty to mate.

It was my job to pin my omega down.

But every time I tried, I shut down.

And my impending rut was making it harder not to lift my goddess off the ground and worship before the altar of Fawn’s spread thighs as she rode my face, right where she belonged.

“Shit, let’s get this over with,” I murmured to myself as I chewed on sweetroot to hasten the departure of my foul morning breath.

“I can’t wait until she’s home. I have to go to her.”

I frowned, washing quickly and storming out to find her.

There was that pesky word again, attempting to grab hold of my mind and weasel its way into my heart.

Home.

This was her home.

I had no home; I was born to be a vagabond.

It was time I remembered that fact.

It was a short and peaceful walk to the furthest edge of the forest, across the meadow to where I’d often hear her lovely voice carry on the wind, singing songs of creation while I stewed in despair.

I’d never been one to hesitate when I wanted something, and yet I’d stalled for a week—so much wasted time!

I had to act.

Fawn was often mellow, but never melancholy like me, patient, and willing to please me.

Her naivety and eagerness to become true mates was all too apparent in each and every one of her actions towards me, which made my heart ache.

By the time I reached the edge of the forest, unease settled over me like a chain tugging me back to the false sunshine paradise of Fawana’s property.

I knew this was the magic that kept me rooted there, to carry out my mission.

Magic, I’d brought all types of charms, wards, and talismans to aid me in running away after I seeded her womb.

I couldn’t be bound there and rule the trade route, after all.

But I had no intention of doing that, running that is, instead, following Fawn’s scent to a grand cerulean blue lake tucked away in the woods.

And there, my jaw dropped at the sight of her.

A large waterfall flowed from a jagged cliff.

The stinging in the soles of my feet reminded me how rocky the terrain was outside of the meadow.

But the pain was dull and distant as lust drummed through my veins.

“Hmmmmm~,” Fawana hummed as she twirled in the water, and I caught a glimpse of her speckled tail perched ontop of her bare ass.

She smelled of honey, herbs, and spices, the scent of a forest after a fresh rainstorm, and the blossoming of a million wildflowers.

Entranced, I slowly unbuttoned my white linen top, which my bride had patched up for me, along with all of my clothing, at a magical pace.

Then, I unwound my bindings, the white cloth pressing against my breasts, losing tension.

The cloth spiraled to the ground as I crept closer, nipples pebbling, once dry throat so wet I choked on my spit.

Disgusting.

I was salivating like a she-wolf after her prey.

And yet, I felt more wetness pooling between my legs that, moments ago, was bone dry as well.

“Fawn …” I whispered her name, part plea, part prayer.

The stretch marks on her body were just a testament to her bounty, thick thighs, ample ass, and a bosom that must’ve been made to pillow the face of a god.

I wanted to grip her doughy middle as I plunged a smooth wooden toy into her wet pussy, until I felt her twitch and tense and scream for me.

Then, and only then, in my fantasies, would my hard knot make her cream.

I found myself lurking just out of sight and watched as she bathed, feeling like the townsquare’s flasher.

I needed to leave, but my feet carried me closer instead, only in my brown breeches and riding boots now.

Suddenly, Fawn went rigid and whipped around, eyes dilated, panting.

“Bri, y-your scent,” she stuttered, raising her loose wrist to her lips like some lady on the verge of fainting.

“You smell … Delicious!”

I went absolutely still.

My scent?

If she could smell me, my rut wasn’t near; it was here!

“Wife … Mate,” Fawn said with a tentative smile, palming a huge breast slick with water, clenching her equally wet thigh with her other hand, “You finally came?—”

I took one step forward, then two steps back, until I was running back to the cottage with my invisible tail tucked between my legs.

That night, we lay back to back, not risking a glance at the other, not acknowledging what happened at the lake.

I was drowsy not from sleep but from the potent mixture of poisons I’d used to suppress my rut.

They were unnatural remedies I’d bought at apothecaries all over the southern Lunarian continent.

Like omegas’ heats, alphas’ ruts harmed those suffering through them without sexual release.

And though I was a thief, I’d never carry the shame of forcing myself on someone to relieve the pain.

So I kept the potions on me, and admittedly took too many.

But why, when Fawn was literally wet and willing for me?

Why am I so afraid of the inevitable?

Option two, remember Bri?

Breed, butcher, then bail.

My plan was simple.

However, I had no answers as to why it still hadn’t been carried out.

I could come up with a third option: beg for something more valuable than her horns.

As her wife, would she allow me to leave as long as she had the babe?

Could I leave without damaging her more than I already had?

“Do you wish to eat some stew?” Fawn asked, breaking the silence so abruptly that I jolted forward from shock, nearly falling from the narrow bed.

“S-stew?” I stammered, confused.

“We may as well eat if we won’t sleep,” she offered, face still turned away, clutching her ornate orange pillow.

“Brother delivered it this morning before I left. Said I hadn’t been eating enough because of my nerves …”

She drifted off, but I caught her drift and scowled.

Her brother hated me.

That much was certain.

But the soft spot he held for his sister seemed to outweigh his contempt.

“Alright,” I offered, not seeing how I could deny her without sounding like an ass.

We made our way to the kitchen and settled by the hearth at a tall wooden table, after she poured us steaming hot bowls.

It was a vegetable medley, for the most part, but I quirked an eyebrow at the chunks of meat in my bowl.

Fawn smiled sweetly, wanting me to believe her brother, Omolan, placed some just for me.

But I knew better.

I didn’t say so, but I knew she had done this for me, and smiled back.

Then, Fawn and I sat in a comfortable silence, slurping and chewing contentedly.

She didn’t probe for answers, didn’t expose her hurt from rejection.

My wife was accommodating with the patience of a saint.

In that moment, I hated her perfection, if only because it magnified my imperfections.

I shut my eyes.

For a moment, a fleeting memory overtook the quaint cottage, and it blinded me.

Or was that my tears?

A den of thieves, who were my brothers and sisters, replaced my beautiful wife, even behind closed eyes, before they turned around and knifed me in the back.

Home.

What would it feel like to be somewhere I could truly call home, where someone would wait for me and bring me peace?

To do everything in my power to protect and care for them in return?

Maybe even raise a?—

“Fuck that.”

I sucked my teeth and stood, pushing away from the table with a flourish.

My plate, cup, and copper utensils rattled about as I stormed into the bath.

When I emerged, I hoped she’d be asleep.

Instead, Fawn waited awake and naked, as she always slept, and reached for me.

My wife wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tightly, even as I lay in her arms like a stone.

I closed my eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, and forced myself to rest.

When I came to, Fawn was breathing evenly, and I risked everything and held her back.

I relinquished control just a bit, despite knowing I’d never be able to turn back.

I began to wonder if there was a spell on her territory at all, or that of any god.

Or, do humans like me, pitiful, yearning for something more, simply refuse to leave?

Who knew.

I didn’t ask; instead, I looked up at our small window as a shooting star passed.

I prayed like a naive child that this sacred moment would never end.

Then, I drifted back to sleep in my wife’s warm embrace.