Resisting temptation
1572 Words
The air was thick with rising, deathly tension between the fae female and the werewolf, who shared a conflicted look between them for what’s to come, and Myra didn’t like any of it at all.
Well... Isn’t this so convenient? They already sealed her fate.
”I’m dead, aren’t I?” Myra's voice shattered the silence between Sinsana and Draven; his gaze slowly shifted to her as his irritation grew, and he pushed himself off the wall to stand beside her.
“What?”
”I mean, there isn’t any way you will just let me go, and I know for a fact what being exterminated means, but this is your fault. I just wanted to help you after you freaking fell into my yard, and now I’m here because you bit me,” she calls, her fingers pointed to him.
Sinsa remained silent, her amused expression revealing her fascination with the banter and dynamics between the two, as Draven approached Myra with a snarl in his tone.
“Last time I checked, I didn’t force you to help me. If you’d just stayed inside and minded your business, maybe I wouldn’t have bitten you in my Canix stage.”
”Oh, color me stupid for trying to help an animal in need. I am a doctor, a vet; that’s what I do. I help animals, and it didn’t sit right with me that an animal was suffering. Glad I’m so stupid.” Myra called, tugging down her brown locks.
“You aren’t going to die. As long as you are in the human plane, no one will question what you are, but you have to quit your job. Until we find a cure, you are an anomaly and shouldn’t be alive, and your shift could be at any time, so—”
”—so nothing, I am not one of you; you made that very clear, so just let me leave. I promise I won’t tell anyone about you or Sinsa,” she pleads, looking into his eyes.
For a fleeting moment, she saw conflict in his eyes, but it was quickly masked by his cold gaze as he pulled away from her.
He hadn't even realized how close he'd gotten, with their lips mere inches apart, but he pulled away.
For a moment, Myra's head spun from the dizzying combination of his musk and scent, which smelled like spice and pine. Was his perfume overpowering, or what was it about it that made her feel that way?
“Can you guys argue outside the room?” Sinsa’s voice breaks the tension as they both huff out in frustration. They walk out of the room, with Sinsa as the lead; they head towards the familiar door, and that’s when he sees the bed she’d woken up from.
The room looked quite spacious and less dusty than it was before, or it was just her imagination. “I cleaned it up earlier. Hopefully it’s more comfortable now,” she called to Myra with a kind smile.
However, it still upset Myra. Was it all real, or was it just in her head? Was this just her father’s madness getting to her? She hung by the door, watching Sinsa head back towards her lab.
Now alone with Draven, their eyes locked, and a keen awareness grew within her core. She phased out as she walked into the room.
“You know, I still don’t understand why your eyes are a silver color. I’ve never seen this kind of wolf eyes before. You are something special, Dr. Emerson,” Sinsa says to her, and Myra feels her heart skip at that but turns to the still brooding alpha who watched her, an unreadable expression that screams danger.
“This is all your fault,” she mutters to him before she slams the door in his face. She had a strong urge to pull his head out, but instead, she stroked it. She feels her joints ache as she walks to the bed.
As she crouched closer, folding her legs to her chest and closing her eyes, the ache worsened, and she silently prayed that Sinsa's test would be a real cure for her affliction.
“I can’t be a werewolf; I just can’t,” she muttered, finally letting the tremble in her shoulders show. She was terrified, and there was a churning dread that she couldn’t escape this place.
She dozes off for a few minutes, but wakes up feeling hot and clammy, struggling to breathe; she groans, tossing and turning on the bed as Sinsa walks in.
As she saw her shirt discarded on the bed, her eyes locked onto Myra, who was naked, her hair covering her torso, and what was left of her dignity, crouched on the bed. With the shirt around her face, she inhales shamelessly.
“Oh my… Myra, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” she calls out, as Myra struggles to speak a word; Sinsa immediately calls for Draven, and seconds later the alphas arrive.
His eyes immediately darkened as a hand flew to cover his nose. “This can’t be happening…” he said with furrowed brows, looking at Sinsa, who stood confused.
“What is it?”
“She is in heat…”
“What? You mean her body is already altering to that of a she-wolf? Isn’t that too soon? And dangerous?” Sinsa calls.
“Before her scent gets out, we need to find a way to quell it before rogues banished to this land can smell her; they are curious and have a taste.” Draven calls, his voice crackling, like he was fighting it and struggling to keep sane, because he was.
The most alluring scent he’d ever encountered spun his head and senses. Myra, whose nose twitched, opened her eyes, her gaze immediately locking with Draven as she reached a trembling hand for him.
“Please…help me…it hurts…” She calls, and Draven stares at Sinsa. There were no suppressants to help a newly turned wolf, especially one about whom they knew nothing. He hadn't needed suppressants for the past decades, thanks to his Canix.
But Draven knew how he could help as he cursed under his breath, “f**k…Sinsa, leave the room…” he ordered the fae, whose brows raised. “Now…” As the fae made her way out of the room, he snarled, making himself scarce.
As soon as the door locked, he removed his shirt and approached the bed, and Myra instantly clung to him like a child, her nose pressed against his neck, taking deep whiffs of his scent.
Her core pulsed with intense heat at every touch, and Draven knew what he had to do, pushing until her body leaned against the headboard, her silver-hued eyes delirious with need and her black pupils dilated with desire. “Please touch me, please; I feel so hot down there... "I need to cum.” Myra begged as Draven struggled to resist his own desires to go further.
His hands grasped her waist as they both clutched the headboard, her legs open, while the bulge in his pants grew and ached to be free, pulsating with each moan-filled breath Myra took.
“Touch yourself, Myra,” he shouts out, “and take what you need from me; my scent will help you.” As she opens her legs, she hisses with each touch to her sensitive flesh.
Her pupils darkened as she pulled Draven forward, pushing her neck into the crook of his neck, and began to stroke her p***y. When she first touched her c******s, she let out a hiss, and the alpha watched.
“Yes...that’s it...” he calls, his throat dry, his eyes glancing down to her entrance, where the wet streak of her p***y aligns with her fingers, and Draven’s breath thickens, especially since his eyes are fixed on her s*x.
The wood on the bedpost cracked under his fingers as he struggled to resist the urge to touch that aching p***y, instead watching her fingers stroke faster and faster. Her cries and moans weren’t helping his sanity, but he fought it, looking like he was in pain. “Yes, just like that. I can’t smell your scent getting thick; you’re almost there. Stroke that p***y for me,” He whispered.
“Ngh...ugh...please, I want to come,” she begged just as Draven reached forward, licking her earlobe and giving the command that had her erupting in flames.
“c*m for me Myra…” She explodes in ecstasy, a mind-blowing storm that catches the alpha off guard as her body goes limp and her head falls onto his shoulders, her hot breath whispering in his ears as she spasms through her climax.
As he reached down, his touch gave her skin a pink flush, and he licked her nape to cover her scent with his, and the wet drip on her fingers was an inviting temptation. He was tempted to push further, taking her fingers in his mouth to taste her.
What the actual f**k? He thought to himself as he pushed himself away from her, standing up from the bed and walking to the door with a strained ache in his pants and steps.
If he didn't get far away from Myra Emerson Moons, she was going to be his downfall; he needed to find a way to cure her.
And soon.
- Writer
