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Brielle

I did not expect to live the life of a cozy, sheltered maiden when I set out to marry the goddess of the woods, but I couldn’t complain as I woke to a daisy chain being placed on my head.

“Morning,” I whispered, the sun rising and casting a peaceful glow around the entire cottage through our open window.

The scenery overflowed with wildflowers, spices, and herbs from our gardens.

I’d taken great care in nursing them back to health in between sewing myself sturdy pants and tunics to replace my flimsy wedding dress buried in the back of our armoire.

I’d come carrying rags in my bag, and it showed every day from the wear and tear of the fabric.

I couldn’t keep relying on her magic without giving my wife anything in return, and refused her help no matter how much she stomped her hoof at me in protest.

She made me and repaired enough outfits, and I was a big girl.

I could, and would, always take care of myself.

Fawn had neglected the gardens, as she had the entire forest, which was drained of her power and needed to be renewed with new life.

But I’d wasted three months since I arrived stalling what needed to be done.

Something I had painstakingly avoided bringing up as I busied myself by joining the melody of my omega’s quiet countryside life, learning her habits and wants, and my desire to run lessened each morning I woke in our house.

It had been so long since I joined her up there, and yet I was no closer to my goal of stealing her horns.

If anything, I drifted further away from it each day, swept up in the simplicity of domesticity.

It was a life not typically afforded to a street urchin like me.

My head rested in my omega’s lap as I sprawled on the bed, and she stroked my cheek with the back of her hand, eyes overflowing with affection.

Fawn’s cascading, silky black twists blew in the wind as she laughed, mouthing, “Morning, Brielle.”

I reached up and stroked her hair.

Each twist was slightly damp, having washed in the river before I woke up, no doubt.

Despite trying to accommodate me by wearing simple green and white dresses and sleeping in a bed, she was still a wild being at her core.

She refused to use the bath I now suspected she’d crafted just for me.

For instance, Fawn always left our windows open, so the smell of eternal spring filled the cottage we called home, wherever we went.

My omega was always carefree, wholly removed from the war between the wolves and the dragonborn that dominated the continent.

I couldn’t even find the willpower to complain about that.

She was too endearing for all that.

I liked that our life was simple and easy.

…

Especially when neither of us brought up the fact that three ruts had come and passed without us so much as fingering each other.

I knew how I controlled myself, but I had no idea what her heats were doing to Fawn, and it ate me up inside—that unknowing.

“I’ll go hunt,” I said uselessly, as if I needed to.

While there was plenty of game, whatever ambrosia we ate in the morning kept me full, including the food her brother cooked for us every other night.

She claimed that if I continued to eat the ambrosia, it would keep me healthy as well, extending my life bit by bit so I could live with her forever.

And I had to admit, my skin was moisturized, and my complexion glowed with clear skin I hadn’t seen since before my first rut as a teen.

If I had a farm and crops to tend to, they would be flourishing too, just from the sheer force of my renewed health radiating from my essence, from within my revitalized soul.

However, I didn’t intend to live there long enough to find out, so I kept hunting to keep my mind busy with a future without her.

Even though the thought of being away from Fawn always sent a tiny spark of pain straight to my chest, piercing my heart.

“But …” Fawn sighed as I stood.

Clearly crestfallen by my demand to leave our wedding bed another night without touching her, without fulfilling my duties, I lurched away and avoided Fawn’s silent demand to stay.

Running into the woods to hunt was the only way I wasn’t consumed by what I really wanted—claiming Fawana.

By the time I returned with some rabbits notched to my belt, the moon had already risen, and my body ached.

But not from the hunt.

My rut was near.

There was no denying it for much longer.

And I’d never had one near an omega without a tonic.

I had run out.

It wouldn’t be long before I couldn’t stop myself anymore.

I lay my head against the door, debating on making camp outside.

Even this far away, separated by a thick, wooden door, my omega’s scent was intoxicating.

Swallowing a large lump in my throat, I pushed on and opened the door.

It was quiet, too quiet.

No sounds of baking or merry-making greeted me, as was typical.

I made the quick turns to our bedroom and gasped, stopping at the doorway as if I had hit a wall.

There, splayed out on the bed with the gold trim of my wedding gown to her nose was Fawn.

She was naked, panting, nesting, and sweating as she reached between her legs, through her thatch of unruly dark curls, stroking her wet, pink sex as she moaned my name.

“Bri— Ah!” Her shock was quickly cut short as a full-body orgasm rocked her, and her scent flooded our room.

I covered my nose and stumbled away, ripping at my belt, pants, and shirt, not naked but half-dressed as I collapsed in the meadow beyond our gated cottage.

My body was on fire, and then she was on me, stroking my arms, pleading, begging.

My Fawn.

My fate.

My love!

The voice in my head was both my own and foreign at the same time.

And my downfall was sealed when I looked into her eyes as she murmured, “Kiss me. Breed me, my alpha.”