Wolf Bride

The autumn air was cool and the scent of burning leaves was strong. The full moon had dominated the sky the night before, and this morning she could feel distant eyes on her. Her lover was coming.

Delilah sighed, and took another sip of her coffee. She wouldn't have long before Shawn and the children woke and the day began, and these moments that she shared only with her coffee cup and the rising sun would come an end. Then it would be time for breakfast and clothes, time to find homework and get everyone out the door. Once the children were out the door she would make a call to her parents to make arrangements for them to visit for the night.

From behind her, Shawn pushed open the porch door. Her husband was a number of years her senior, and possessed the steady gait of a farmer. He stepped outside and walked to the edge of the porch, warming his worn hands on his own coffee mug.

It had been more than a year since Uther, her lover, had last come home. Delilah wasn't sure Shawn would still know the signs, but she was at a loss for how to remind him. She knew that the nights when Uther visited wore at her husband. Shawn hadn't been born here, and their ways were still new to him.

"Company tonight." he said, his voice low. Delilah just nodded in response. Shawn was a strong man, a good husband, and a wonderful father. Much of their farm was tilled by his steady hands, and many of the younger men who owned the nearby farms came to Shawn for experienced advice. Shawn had helped the children learn to climb, taught them to run and play ball, how to work hard and how to be good people. Theirs relationship had started as one of convenience, but time had see it grow into one of trust and friendship, and from there, it blossomed into love.

"Yeah." she sighed. She was at a loss for what else to say, so she nodded, and watched him as he took a sip of his coffee.

"I'll have to keep Michael home today, then. Help me bring in the sheep from the back field. Settle the cattle; they'll be up and about. Chickens, too." he nodded, focusing on the practical and planning his day. Uther's kind disturbed animals as they passed, often fouling milk and breaking the peace at the henhouse. Delilah nodded again.

"Yeah. I'll check with my parents about tonight." she added, keeping her focus on the practical, mirroring Shawn. "Did you want to ..." she began, and Shawn shook his head.

"No, no." he grimaced. "I'll probably ... be up at Bill's, tonight. Be home later tomorrow."

Delilah nodded sympathetically. He'd be late tomorrow because he and Bill would be up late, smoking cigars, drinking, and playing cards. "Sounds good." she said, slowly standing. Shawn continued to look out from the porch, watching the corn field sway slowly in the breeze, as she set her hand to his arm. He turned to face her, and his eyes played back and forth over her face. She smiled, and touched his cheek. "Back to usual tomorrow." she said. "It's just one day."

"One night." he replied, his tone even, though his eyes trembled. "It's just one night."

The children woke one by one, as Delilah made pancakes and eggs, with bacon and toast. It'd have been nice to say that laughter filled the home, as it usually did, but it wasn't so, that day. The children may have been reacting to that tense electricity in the air, the calm before the storm, or it may simply have been a day to be rough and rambunctious; Delilah couldn't be sure. Dutifully, she pressed them all out of the house, off to school or to help their father in the fields.

And, as she often did when stressed, or worried, or waiting, Delilah cleaned. She opened the windows and airing the house, pulled the sheets and pillowcases from the bed she shared with Shawn to wash and replace them. And as she cleaned, she baked.

A batch of raisin oatmeal cookies. A loaf of banana bread. By the time Delilah lifted the second loaf of banana bread out of the oven, the living room was spotless, as was the hall, and the foyer. Setting the bread down, she paused.

There was a smell to the air, a smell other than bread. Delilah turned.

Somehow, silently, a tall, red-headed man had come to be standing in her kitchen. Donnal. She caught herself before she gave him the pleasure of crying out, silently cursing herself for having failed to expect him. She knew little of how the wolves spent their time, but she knew that Donnal and Uther had bad blood between them; they had clashed before, and Donnal was responsible for a number of Uther's more pronounced scars.

In her head, she reminded herself not to show fear. Donnal was here to deliver a message to Uther; she was just the medium. If she was harmed, Uther would be much less likely to listen or co-operate. Donnal wasn't likely to harm her. It wouldn't help his cause.

"Donnal." Delilah said coolly. She turned, and fanned the bread with the tea towel in her hands. "I hadn't expected you. If I'd known I'd have guests, I'd have changed."

The powerfully built man chuckled as he scratched at his rough stubble. "Well. I was in the area, and heard that our mutual friend might be by, later." he said, pulling out a chair at the table. "I thought I'd pop by, see if he was about. Maybe wait around, have a talk with him when he arrives."

He smiled at Delilah, but it was a smile that held neither amusement nor humour. It was a smile that showed his teeth, expressed his dominance over her, here in her kitchen. And he sat at her table, expecting her to serve him..

"Bread will need to cool, a bit" Delilah said. "I have cookies, if you'd like." She was already heading to the fridge, for a glass of cold milk. She knew his answer already.

"If it's no trouble. Don't want to put you out. Oh, thank you. Such hospitality!" Donnal said, his smile still contorted into a broad, menacing grin.

Delilah continued back to the kitchen counter, purposefully showing Donnel her back. Stay timid, she reminded herself. Stay calm. Delilah felt her eyes flicker to the cast-iron pans she used for the bread, to the sharp cutting knives in the knife-block that Shawn had crafted her. She had weapons, if she needed them.

But none that would glisten just so in the moonlight. None that could truly harm Donnel, or any other wolf; none that could even slow him for more than half a moment.

"How many is it, now? Four? Five?" Donnel asked, making a pronounced lip-smacking noise as he set down the rich milk. "It's five, right? Three girls, two boys."

"It's seven, now, Donnel." she said, her finger testing the bread. "Two more boys."

"Two boys! And both right in a row like that." Donnel said, whistling low. "That's a thing, there. He must have been happy with that, a wanderer like him, leaving such a strong legacy."

Delilah paused, reminding herself, again, to keep calm. Donnel was trying to produce a rise from her, and she was much farther ahead to ignore or reject it. "I imagine." she answered, with a shrug. "Don't see him much. Mostly Shawn and I around here." she said, trying to force a smile.

"Oh, of course, of course." Donnel said, nodding. "Just like a wanderer, though, eh?" He tapped his finger on the table, twice, then said, "Never around when you need him."

Donnel's threat was subtle, but not so subtle that Delilah missed it. She tried hard to show no reaction.. "If you'd like, I can tell Uther you were through, looking for him." She paused, to sound more casual. "Sammual was through for him a while back, too, and ..."

"No, no." Donnel said, standing. "It's fine. I'll wait. Why, I'm just getting a taste of what you go through. You wait for him for months, right?" Donnel's smiled again, and it still held no humour and no love. It was the smile of a shark, or crocodile, full of menace and lacking empathy. "I bet," he said, crossing the kitchen towards Delilah, keeping his eyes on her stomach, "that you're waiting for him ... right now."

Delilah deliberately kept her back to the red haired man in his dark jacket, but she felt his hands brush at her hips, and then come to rest on them. He sank his fingers into her flesh there, squeezing her in a familiar way with his unfamiliar hands. She felt her blood run cold, even as Donnel's warm breath rolled over the back of her neck. "It's probably been a while." he said, his voice low, and husky. "Keeping track on the calendar, counting days and weeks. Is it hard, to keep your husband from touching you?"

Delilah's mouth was dry as a bone, but she licked her lips anyway as she brushed her hair out of her face. "Shawn's a good man." she said. "He understands ..." Her breath caught as Donnel's hand slipped up from her hip, sliding up her side, touching at her skin, and she felt his other hand brush at the back of her hair. Anything but this, she thought, mentally crying out for her lover or anyone to arrive and help her.

"It would be hard ... for me ..." Donnel hissed, his voice now carrying a trace of a growl, as he traced his nose up and down her hair, sniffing at her. "With you, so close..."

"Donnel." a strong and male voice said. Donnel's hand caught on Delilah's hip, and she heard a low rumble from his throat, but she turned to wriggle away from him. Uther stood in the kitchen door, leaning on the frame, with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on Donnel. Delilah spared a glance for Donnel, and saw that his eyes were a golden yellow, and that he held his mouth slightly open to make room for his teeth, which came to sharp points.

"Uther." Donnel said, spitting the word. "So glad you're back. And early."

Uther nodded coolly. "Made good time through the foothills. Now, I think it'd be best if you took your hand off my mate, Donnel." he said, calmly. "Then, head off. I'll come find you in the morning, once I've rested."

Delilah felt her lip twitch, but didn't let herself smile. It could still come to blows between the two, and she wanted to avoid aggravating the situation. She continued to study the cooled banana bread as if it were a fascinating manuscript.

"What need have I ..." Donnel asked, smirking, obviously trying to treat the whole deadly affair as if it were some grand joke, "to listen to the advice of some homeless, territory-less, packless old hound?" As he spoke, his smirk faded to a graven seriousness. "There's nothing you can do to me, old man. Nothing."

Uther regarded the younger man, as they locked eyes. With effort, Delilah continued to bite her tongue. Uther was older that she, and she was older than Donnel by no small margin, but she would like to think she had more than a few years until she would be called "old woman". She turned to leave, hesitantly, when Uther spoke.

"Stay, Delilah. Donnel was about to go." he said, his golden eyes glittering, as his teeth grew, long and white, gleaming in the late afternoon sun shining through the window.

Delilah paused, and Donnel growled, his tone low and cruel. Donnel lowered his head, widened his stance, and narrowed his eyes. Uther didn't respond, instead continuing to stare the younger man down. After a long moment, Donnel turned with a snarl, and stormed from through the porch door. "See you tomorrow, Uther." he spat, as he left.

Delilah released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Donnel was gone. She felt a firm hand on her elbow, and turned to see Uther standing by her. She let Uther pull her into his arms and press her to his chest.

"You alright?" Uther asked, with his voice gruff. Delilah simply nodded. "He's gone, now. Won't be back. Won't be your problem anymore." Uther said, with a tone of finality. "Sorry about that. He's young. Thinks fighting me will make a name for himself. Still too full of piss and cum."

Delilah nodded, but focused on pressing her face into her lover's chest. She saw Uther so rarely; the last time had been more than a year ago. Her body had changed so much since the first time they were together. Back then, she'd had the tight and impressive body of a young woman when they were first together, and now she had the softer, smoother curves of a more ... full, middle-aged woman. But Uther held her just as he always had; one hand to the small of her back, petting the curve there lightly, while the other hand stroked at her shoulder. She pressed her nose against him. The smell was the same scent that she had inhaled on the night she became a woman; Uther carried the scent of musk, and a heavy woodsy aroma with a hint of smoke. Her hand played over Uther's chest through his shirt, and she could tell his muscles were still there. They were perhaps not as tight or tense, but still strong.

"I wondered." Delilah sighed, the missing time disappearing as she melted into Uther. "It'd been so long, I was wondering if ... I mean, I'm getting ..."

"Like wine." Uther said simply, resting his hand atop her buttocks and squeezing. He sniffed at her hair; he'd always been a head taller than her. "... you're exactly the way I remembered."

"Not exactly." she said, giggling, and feeling her cheeks flush. Every time, Uther made her feel young again. "You're early, dinner isn't even made!"

Uther squeezed Delilah close, then let her go. "Then get to work, woman!" he said, with a laugh, starting across the kitchen as she laughed back. He paused to admire the gallery of children's art that was arrayed on the kitchen cabinet doors. "... who's the artist?" he asked, smiling as he studied them.

"Annie, mostly. Rose did some. Riley did that blue one." she said, setting the oven to preheat for her roast. "He's five, you know. And proud of it."

"Five." Uther exclaimed, in a low voice. "I don't know if he's allowed to be five. He ... he makes me feel old." he chuckled. "And Stephen and Thomas?"

"Both are well, and so's Michael. He broke his arm playing football, last fall. Healed fast. Very fast. Told the doctor it was a family recipe, an herbal balm. He ... forgot about it, after a while." she said, sighing, remembering how careful she and Shawn always were about the children; even so, mistakes could happen. "And Clara, and Diedrie, also well. Diedrie had her sweet sixteen, if Riley makes you feel old." she clucked. "Strapless dress; she worked on it for six weeks, fit her better than her skin. Shawn could have had kittens, but she felt so beautiful..." Delilah sighed again. How do you catch up a father on sixteen months in his children's lives in one night? How many details do you include, and what do you leave out? "Annie is some talent in school. Her teachers have her in advanced classes. They say she's got a real head for numbers."

Uther nodded, and went to sit at the table. "Annie, head for numbers. Michael, broke arm playing football. Diedrie, sixteen, made her own dress, too close to a woman." Uther repeated what he was being told; that was his habit, to aid the memory. "... and Shawn?"

He asked the question in an even tone. The two men had met so infrequently, Delilah could have counted the times on one hand, missing a thumb. But every visit, every time, Uther asked after him. Politely. And every time, she answered the same.

"He's a good man. Loves the children like his own. A strong father, too." she nodded. That part was the same response she gave every time, but this time, she added, "... he reminds me of you. A little. Around the edges."

To the first part of her answer, Uther made a grunting noise; the same grunting noise he made every year, approving of Shawn and affirming, as best he could, Delilah's relationship with him. He made a second, less approving grunt, after her addendum. "He shouldn't. Shawn's a good man, you said. Good with kids."

She smiled. She knew of other wolf-brides, or even wolf-husbands, whose mates never asked after their children. Some wolves stole through in the night and simply took what they wanted, often being hurtful or even cruel to their mate's spouses. She'd heard frightening stories before she and Uther were together. But Uther had never been like that. Uther had always wanted to hear about their children, even if he'd never asked to meet them; when Diedrie and Michael were both younger, and Uther was coming through more regularly, he'd read their school reports a few times. Delilah knew he cared more than he let on, and sometimes she got the impression it was maybe more than he was supposed to or was allowed to.

"Well." she said, closing the oven door at last. "The roast is in, so we've ninety minutes until dinner." She turned, and smiled to Uther. He was already smirking, that same terrible, clever, handsome smirk he'd had since the first night they'd met. She felt her face flushing, and a smile breaking her lips, as she continued. "So, is there anything in particular you'd like to..."

He stood from the table slowly, almost carefully. She licked her lips, and felt the smile spread across her face. "... maybe, you'd like a shower?" she asked, teasing. He smiled, and walked steadily towards her. "It's been such a long trip, I mean." She tried hard not to giggle nervously, at his practiced, slow, methodical steps towards her. "You must be tired, too. Maybe a nap, before ...?"

Uther silenced her by grabbing at her wrist and twisting lightly; as she gasped, he swept his arm behind her, and pressed her to him, while aggressively pressing his lips to hers. Uther's tongue immediately darted hungrily into her mouth. Delilah felt herself melt into her mate, the months of absence disappearing into his passionate kiss and strong embrace. Delilah felt that familiar lust for Uther, carnal and unrelenting, and wanted him, just as she always had. She moaned into his kiss, her tongue massaging at his, plying it, trying to pull it in further; she pressed against him, moving her knee against his leg and her hand up and down his powerful back, her other hand grasping his full and strong bicep.

He broke their kiss, and traced his lips up to her ear. The hand that had been behind her back traced her jaw. "I had other plans" he growled, his voice deep and rumbling and strong, a voice that would be menacing if it were coming from any other man. Delilah looked up to catch sight of Uther's eyes. Normally rich and green, his eyes were now the colour of honey in moonlight, a golden hue that told her Uther was longing to touch her as badly as she was longing to be touched.

Uther firmly pressed her against the wall of the hallway, and Delilah squealed with delight. She parted her legs and wrapped them loosely around Uther's own. He lowered his mouth so that his teeth grazed her neck, nipping at her lightly. Uther's strong hand reached beneath her, and hoisted; Delilah felt herself lifted from the ground, raised up by her mate's hand cupping her buttocks as his upper body pinned her to the wall.

Delilah blushed, and murmured, "I'm not as light anymore" glancing down to the ground.

Uther's free hand took hold of her chin, and turned her face so that he could look at his eyes. "I hadn't noticed" he said, and pressed his lips to hers again.

For a wolf, Uther had always had a way with words. Delilah's hands wrapped around the back of his neck, tracing up and down his spine as she twirled his long and dark hair. She caught her fingers in his mane, pulling, pushing, and adoring the treat of kissing her lover. They kissed each other desperately, as if they might not have time to do all the kissing they would want to do, and Delilah's mind played through memories of Uther's lips playing over her body. She could feel the petal-soft folds of her womanhood begin to unfurl as her body began to prepare for Uther.

Breaking their kiss, Uther firmly held her chin as he pushed her face to one side, moving to nuzzle and nip at her neck again. "Your skin is so soft ..." he said, releasing a sigh that had the timbre of a growl. Deliliah sighed to match and clutched at Uther's shoulders..