The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

He chuckles; reaching out he cradles her cheek with his hand, “Aye, you should do well to watch your tongue, maiden; not because you don’t deserve to have your voice heard but because I fear the day the man on the other side of such a verbal lashing will retaliate against you.”

When she looks up at him and their eyes meet, he stares deep into her soul as if searching for something. The way he looks at her, so kindly, so adoringly, causes her to flush. She thinks that perhaps, she loves him.

“Quell,” she says softly, “About last night…” Her heart races, almost choking her.

He presses his lips together drawing in a breath through his nose; his cheeks start to redden ever so slightly, “I must apologize to you, Coral, my actions were far from gentlemanly… I should have left you alone.” He starts to pull his hand back but she stops him, wrapping her fingers around his and brining them up to her lips.

“Be that as it may, you did nothing that I did not want,” she can feel her heart swoon.

Quell draws her close, wrapping his arms around her back, “I never expected you to affect me so greatly,” he says softly, “I want my intentions made clear-I want you as my mate,” when she draws a breath in to respond he cuts her off, “Please listen carefully, Coral. I am not going anywhere nor will my heart change. Do not decide on this, just yet. Wait until we arrive at the castle, until you have time to learn about our ways. It is not an easy path for a woman to become mate to a centaur-I want to make sure that you know all that it is you are getting into before you decide. I do not want you to be caught by surprise.” He gently pushes her away from him but grasps her shoulders, staring down deeply into her eyes, “It would… destroy me, if you said yes and then came to regret it.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“As you wish,” she says. She reaches up, her fingers gently brushing his cheek, slipping around the back of his neck to pull him downward to her. He comes willingly, their lips melding with a tender love that neither has felt before.

…

The afternoon sun beats down on the caravan, the warmth almost stifling, with little relief offered by the gentle breeze that drifts across the road. Around midmorning the centaurs had shed their vests and shirts, almost all are bare chested and comfortable about it, while the human men remain clothed in their baggy white shirts, a bit more reserved about being half naked around women. Coral had removed and folded up her cloak long ago, choosing to sit on it as a cushion against the hard, bumpy seat of the wagon she was told to ride in. Aside from the men driving the wagons and a few children, most of the human party are walking; she protested but Reid shut her down, stating that there is no one to heal a healer should she take ill.

Coral does not like the special treatment-she supposes she should be happy about it, having people wait on her and tend to her but she finds it awkward. She feels a bit of an imposter having been raised in a poor simple life, no doubt with less than most of the kin in the caravan. Marcus, who is driving the wagon she rides on, told her that they would arrive in the land of the centaurs shortly before sunset, which means there are still several hours of the grueling quick pace to endure.

She hears the pounding of hooves and turns in time to see a centaur galloping up from the end of the caravan, “Please hold for a moment,” he shouts to the people as he runs by.

Marcus eases the wagon to a halt; leaning to the side she can see the centaur reach the front of the procession, talking to Rainer and Quell. The three of them, along with Reid turn and gallop past, towards the back of the caravan. She hears Quell as he zips by, “Come, Coral.”

Surprised, she slides out of the wagon seat and grabs a hold of her skirt; hiking it up a shade she runs quickly to follow them. She hears the screaming of an injured ox as she approaches.

Several men and a few centaurs have managed to get the beast free from the wagon it was pulling. They have managed to get a rope around its horns but the centaur holding the other end is struggling to keep the animal from getting away.

Quickly she runs over to the wagon, shouting at one of the men trying to help, “Get the wheel chocks!”

He does, securing them in front of the wagon wheels to stop it from moving. Coral snatches a rope from the hand of another man much to his surprise before calling up to the centaur, “Tie off your end low to the wagon.” The centaur looks down at her, confused at being ordered around by a human woman.

“Do as she says,” Quell shouts. The centaur nods and secures his end of the rope. The wagon wood creaks from the weight of the animal.

“All of you please back off, you are frightening him,” she shouts to the gathered crowd, motioning for them to back away into a larger circle around the animal.

She quickly ties a large slipknot in the rope, holding the rope steady before tossing the noose out low at the beast, catching its hind leg before pulling it tight; she flicks the lead of the rope behind the beast’s other hind leg. Bracing herself, she heaves the rope back and trips the animal, causing it to fall to the ground.

Coral races forward, wrapping the rope around both of its hind legs to prevent it from rising again before she presses her weight into the ox’s shoulder, quickly seeing that one of its front legs is broken. She makes short work to cobble the able leg with the rest, immobilizing the frantic animal. Coral strokes the ox’s muzzle, cooing to it. Looking up she sees the driver of the wagon, “What happened?”

He shakes his head, “He stumbled and fell hard; managed to get back up but… well, you heard him screaming.”

Gently she runs her hands down the broken leg, softly squeezing to feel the bones. The animal whines at the pain; she shakes her head, looking up at Rainer, “It is shattered. A human would have a hard time coming back from this with a working leg. There is nothing that can be done to save him.”

Rainer nods, glancing at Reid. Reid draws her sword, moving towards them, “Best return to your wagon, maiden.”

“No,” she says holding up her hand to stop him, “that is not how to do this.” Reid stops, glancing to Rainer.

Coral continues to talk softly to the ox, gently rubbing its nose and ears to calm it down as much as she can. Pulling her dress up to expose her boot she draws the knife tucked in there, the slender yet robust twelve inch blade. She ignores the surprised movements of those around her, her free hand sliding down the ox’s side to feel for the beating heart and the gap between its ribs. In one quick plunge she slides the blade in, twisting it; the ox makes one last cry out, before its dead body relaxes down to the earth.

Coral runs her hands over the ox, underneath its chin and tilts it back all the way before slicing her blade at the top of its throat, causing blood to gush out. As she holds its chin to keep the wound open, she looks up to the shocked centaurs, “The meat is still salvageable. If you have a butcher in the party, now would be the time to get him. If you don’t, I will need a few strong men to assist me.”

None of them respond, staring at her blankly. Finally Reid turns and slowly walks away, “I will find a butcher.”

She rests her knife on the side of the bull, standing so that she can gather up the loose bottom of her dress to one side; she twists the fabric into a knot just above her knees, giving her legs freedom while also keeping her dress out of the bloody mud forming around the ox. She doesn’t bother to ask or put on airs around the group but picks up her knife and slices the ox down the belly to the base of its tail. As the entrails pour out, several onlookers gag and disappear, both human and centaur alike. The King and his party remain, their faces booth horrified and in awe as she fearlessly reaches into the cavity to clean it out before the meat is spoiled.

By the time the butcher arrives with his assistant, she has the top half of the ox skinned, the side the ox is laying on still covered in its hide. The butcher looks over the naked animal, then to Coral, “What is your trade, lass?”

Coral stands, her hands and forearms covered in sticky drying blood. She stretches her back a little, “I’m an animal healer.” It is the first time she has called herself such, usually making it known that she apprentices to Piers but as she is now alone, she decides she must own the title as her own.

He continues to look at her, “Ah… but you’ve done this before,” he states, more than asks.

Coral looks down at the animal knowing that her cuts are all clean and sure. She glances back to the butcher and shrugs, “I’m from a small town and we do not have a butcher,” she offers as an explanation.

“Aye,” he says, walking to her with an oil skinned apron. He drapes it over her head, wrapping it around her body and tying it in the front; it covers everything but her arms and upper back, “Well, let’s get to it then.”

The butcher starts by taking off the head, Coral carves the hindquarters up; they hand pieces to the butcher’s assistant who wraps them in leather and piles them into a nearby wagon. Once they have broken down the top side, the three of them roll the beast over onto its peeled back hide, exposing the unworked side of the ox. Coral and the butcher make short work skinning the rest of the animal and breaking it down, leaving the chest cavity for last. The butcher gets out a saw and while Coral and the assistant steady the meat he saws down the spine to separate the two halves into more manageable ones. By the time they are finished all that remains is the pile of organs sitting in the bloody mud, the cleaned hide and the head.

A woman comes to them with a few sacks of water, empting one into a bowl for clean up. As the assistant cleans what was left on the ground the butcher motions for Coral to wash up, standing next to her as she does so. She rinses her knife off first, setting it on the back of the wagon before scrubbing her arms free of the sticky darkened blood.