Feral Lust
By Mia Watts
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Feral Lust
Copyright © 2011 Mia Watts
Edited by Darlena Cunha and Liza Green
Cover art by Les Byerley,
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-423-9
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including
infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable
by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic Release: October 2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product
of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
To Bronwyn Green, Brynn Paulin, Dakota Rebel, Emma Hillman,
Simone Anderson, Jennifer Armintrout (the real one), Kenzie
Michaels, Jess Jarman, Gwendolyn Cease, Sommer Marsden, and
Cheryl Dragon: Ladies, Friends, Artists, Geniuses, and
RPWordWarriors. May we continue to create, encourage, challenge,
and bully each other into success. Thank you for being on the other
side of Twitter.
(@Bronwyn_Green, @BrynnPaulin, @DakotaRebel,
@DropTheGlasses, @SimoneAnderson7, @JArmintrout,
@KenzieMichaels, @JessJarman, @GwendolynCease,
@Sommer_Marsden, @CherylDragon, @MiaWatts)
Chapter One
“Mr. Hastings.” The finely dressed man in a black waistcoat moved to the other side of
the library desk. He lifted the ivory inlaid-on-gold lid of a smallish box on the wide mahogany
surface as he paused, for what he could only have meant to be dramatic effect, and withdrew a
cigar. “Lord Atherton has selected you specifically for the task.”
“With all due respect, I don’t know Lord Atherton nor do I know why he’s requested my
assistance.”
The secretary sat behind the desk, looking mildly bored and as though he’d smelled
something unpleasant. He’d called himself Mr. Leedy, Michael recalled. Mr. Weedy would have
suited better for all his reed thin form and the way he swayed when he spoke.
“You’re a third son, are you not? It has come to my attention that you’d benefit from an
arrangement such as this, where funds elsewhere would perhaps be lacking.”
Michael tried to listen with interest, tried to subdue his impatience with the posturing
importance of the secretary’s demeanor. The enormous beast poised like a great furred warning
beside Michael’s chair made listening to Mr. Leedy challenging, as well. Michael curled his
fingers over the armrest wondering if the wingback could be used as defense against such a
creature should it decide Michael no longer amused him.
“Is that a wolf or a breed of hound?” Michael asked, unable to avoid the question longer.
“Wolf,” Mr. Leedy answered, distractedly.
“Must it remain?”
“How you handle Lord Atherton’s wolf is absolutely indicative of how you will proceed
here.”
Michael flicked his eyes to the beast having heard once that animals sensed fear in
humans. Perhaps that was why the large gray wolf hadn’t moved an inch from Michael’s side
since he’d entered the library of his potential employer. He tried to continue the conversation as
though the animal didn’t matter.
“Mr. Leedy, my financial circumstances aren’t your concern. It’s bad form for you to
speculate and worse form coming from a man of no family consequence when speaking to
another of superior breeding.” Michael rose carefully, giving attention to the beast who’d been
sitting on his haunches until that moment.
The animal rose with him. His muzzle wrinkled, pulling the fleshy mouth back to reveal
startlingly white canines. Mr. Leedy seemed to give acute attention to the wolf.
“Please sit, Mr. Hastings. We’ve more to discuss.” Mr. Leedy clipped the end of the cigar
and took his time lighting it. Gray plumes that matched the color of the wolf puffed from Mr.
Leedy’s mouth as the secretary continued to watch the animal.
Michael took his seat, wondering how he’d extricate himself from the situation without
further impertinence.
“I apologize for my blunt words.” Mr. Leedy didn’t appear to be apologetic. He appeared
coolly calculating. “Lord Atherton has permitted me to offer a generous sum in return for your
instruction.”
“How generous?” Michael asked. It would have to be very generous in order to risk life
and limb daily, alongside the wolf.
“For your tutelage, you’ll be provided room and board in the family wing, access to all
gentlemanly pursuits, including use of the stables, guns, and carriage as needed. In addition, you
are to be given a sum of two thousand pounds. One for each month of service.”
Michael swallowed hard. “Lord Atherton is generous, indeed.” He tried not to be stunned
by the offer because the terms had yet to be discussed. “Precisely what would my duties entail?”
“Social grooming. You are to prepare your charge for full social introduction by the date
of the Throckmorton Christmas Ball.”
“Two months to prepare an introduction? Why not hire a governess?” Michael asked.
“Because the charge is neither female, nor a child, but Lord Atherton himself.”
Michael stared at the pluming cigar held expertly between Mr. Leedy’s fingers. He
watched the side of Mr. Leedy’s thumb tap-tap on the desk, then come to a stop.
“Forgive me,” Michael began, trying to phrase his thoughts as delicately as he could and
still obtain the information he required. “Lord Atherton is a peer of the realm. Surely, he’s been
afforded every opportunity his title suggests. Why would he require my services?”
The secretary leaned forward, propping himself on the desktop with his forearms.
“Because, Mr. Hastings, Lord Atherton knows the exemplary reputation of your family and of
you, specifically. He’s aware of your complete education in social matters and has had the
opportunity to hear of your charm when it comes to the notice of ladies. Lord Atherton has a
keen interest in wedding. He is willing to hire you, sir, to teach him the fineries of such an
endeavor.” Mr. Leedy sat back in his chair. A plume of gray smoke obscured his squinty-eyed
observation of Michael. “It’s because he’s a gentleman that he only requires two months of your
time.”
Michael frowned. The wolf had yet to return to his haunches. It stood, muzzle far too
close to Michael’s knee, staring at him with golden eyes that seemed to be as intent on Michael’s
answer as Mr. Leedy was.
Michael returned his attention to the secretary. “He’s been instructed in proper social
graces?”
The secretary’s eyes flicked to the wolf. “He requires polish which you have in
abundance. Will you accept the offer?”
Michael couldn’t afford to ignore the offer. Mr. Leedy had been correct in assuming
Michael needed the funds. As a third son, he didn’t have an inheritance to claim, nor did he wish
to go into the ministry as many of his contemporaries had chosen. Instead, his father had sent
him through University, bred him as a gentleman, and left him without so much as a title to hope
for.
No, when his father passed on, he’d be dependent on the generosity of his brothers, and
the pity of whichever woman would take him. It was made worse because Michael wanted no
woman. Should his unnatural proclivities be discovered, he could also count on his family’s
disdain. Death and destitution were all a man could hope for when he favored other men for his
bedmates.
Two thousand pounds loomed like a beacon of hope. It wasn’t much to live a lifetime on,
but it would do. It would help.
“Two months? Might there be opportunity to expand the duration of the contract?”
Michael asked. Two thousand offered hope. Four thousand guaranteed it.
“No. His lordship merely requires a bride, which you will help him obtain at the
Christmas Ball.” The wolf snarled, turning its head toward Mr. Leedy. The man paled. “Rather,
Lord Atherton will secure his bride on his own. He requests only your guidance in the smaller
social graces expected from a peer, as he offers for a young lady of breeding.”
“I still don’t understand why he needs me when surely he was brought up with the best
his station has to offer.”
The hairs on the back of the wolf’s neck hadn’t settled since the snap at Mr. Leedy. With
the feral gaze redirected at Michael, he could only shiver with the certainty that the wolf was
following their discussion. If not their words then surely the tension in the air had set the animal
to alert. Michael made a studied effort to relax, hoping to calm him.
“Lord Atherton’s upbringing is of no consequence to you. Either the offer of employment
is acceptable or it’s not. I’m meant to obtain your answer today, please, sir.”
“Very well,” Michael murmured thoughtfully as he considered the information he’d be
given. “I’ll be teaching his lordship social graces only? Dancing, conversation, methods of
address, manners?”
“That’s correct.”
“And I’m to do so in such a way that no one will question his lordship’s place among his
peers as he seeks his bride.”
“There should be no question of his superlative lineage at any time,” Mr. Leedy
acknowledged.
“I have two months and the offer stands at two thousand for that duration, to terminate
the agreement upon the Throckmorton’s annual Christmas Ball,” Michael clarified.
Mr. Leedy agreed.
Michael tapped his lip with a forefinger. If he never asked, the answer would be no by
default, he decided. “As there is much to do in the way of small nuances for social manner, and a
brief time to carry out the charge, I’ll require all you’ve stated already and four thousand
pounds.”
Mr. Leedy’s eyes bugged and he sputtered unhappily. “The offer is already more than
generous.”
“Yes, but you forget that Lord Atherton specifically requested my services. He’s
apparently recognized in me something not found in another son of the realm. Therefore, I’ll
require unique compensation for my unique talents.” Michael tried to curb the smile tugging at
his lips, but he knew he failed.
“I’ll have to discuss this unfortunate turn of events with his lordship,” Mr. Leedy
snapped. “Wait here.”
Mr. Leedy stormed out of the room. The wolf followed him to the door, yipped, but
stopped short of leaving. Michael looked at the animal warily.
“Good dog,” Michael said.
The gray beast trotted back to him with a snarl. Its nose shoved hard to Michael’s groin,
and the sharp point of teeth closed around his sac. Michael sucked in sharply. He froze as he
stared down at the animal that held Michael’s entire future in its mouth. He was very fond of his
man parts and the rapid staccato of his pulse began the steady roaring of blood in his ears.
“Very good wolf,” Michael amended with a whisper. An eternity passed before Mr.
Leedy came back. The wolf released and sat squarely between Michael’s legs almost as though
mocking him.
Mr. Leedy cleared his throat. “His Lordship agrees to your conditions, and gives you one
of his own.”
“Keep the wolf off me, and I’ll listen.”
It trotted to the side of the desk.
“He’ll honor your demand for four thousand pounds. In return, should successful
acquisition of his bride not be made for some preventable cause owning to your talents, his
lordship will retain your services for the next four years to pay off the expense.”
“Four years?” Michael exclaimed.
“At an average of one thousand pounds a year for a position among his assistants is still a
lucrative offer.”
Michael swallowed hard against the relief and the sting to his pride at Mr. Leedy’s words.
A lowly assistant? But reason warred with him, reminding him that either way, he’d receive
room and board in addition to four thousand pounds. If he merely had two, he’d be required to
find work at a future date as the funds wouldn’t be sufficient to support him indefinitely. The
offer was a slap in the face to his family connections, but not unreasonable.
“And the wolf?”
Mr. Leedy looked down at the animal. It held Mr. Leedy’s gaze then rested its muzzle on
the edge of the desk.
“The wolf won’t be an issue.”
Slowly, Michael nodded. He needed the money. His future required it. Michael held his
hand out to seal the bargain. “I won’t fail, Mr. Leedy.”
The secretary gripped his hand firmly. “See that you don’t.”
* * * *
Lord Atherton clasped his wrist behind his back as he watched the approaching carriage.
Hastings was early. A full day early. Atherton had barely managed to bring Mr. Leedy to the
estate in time to meet their new guest, expecting Hastings to arrive the day he’d been told.
Instead, Atherton had received a note that the new member of the household would arrive a day
ahead of schedule to unpack and begin work the following morning.
There were reasons for Atherton’s request, and Hastings eager arrival muddled the plan.
The three nights of a full moon’s cycle concluded tonight. That meant Atherton had another day
of unpredictability in form and mood. He’d depend on Mr. Leedy to keep the new arrival far
from Atherton until the end of moon’s waning fullness.
Managing his human form alone during the full moon was difficult enough. To do so
with Mr. Hastings in residence made it more so. The dual battery to Atherton’s defenses could
unman him. Perhaps hiring the attractive tutor hadn’t been such a grand idea after all.
The carriage’s black form had begun as a spot at the top of a hill and had grown in
proportion to the anxiety building in his chest. The risk had been a thoughtless one. He could’ve
asked anyone to play his mentor; instead, he’d chosen the honorable Michael Hastings. The one
man whose charm had been whispered about until it had reached Atherton Hall. Until it had been
scribed in indelible ink upon the pages of his periodical, portraying a sketch of the young man,
which while appealing, was not nearly as pleasing as the man himself.
He knew, because he’d followed Hastings about in London and had tracked him as his
wolf-self.
It had been an indulgence, one he was sure to regret. He’d chosen his teacher both
impeccably well for the task, and impossibly wrong.
He wasn’t prepared for the confident swagger of the young man when he’d entered the
study. After all, he’d offered Mr. Hastings employment when none was requested. He should’ve
been insulted. Lord Atherton had done his research to know that Mr. Hastings was a careful
spender. Together with his other inquiries, Atherton pieced together the steady head of the man
despite his unfortunate birth order. Lord Atherton knew he could entice Hastings with the
promise of financial security.
Mr. Hastings had dignity, wasn’t prone to drunkenness or excess. He also kept as much
of his business private as humanly possibly among grasping gentry who believed it their right to
know all.
It was this preference for privacy, which drew Atherton most. He required it. That those
traits were delivered in an attractive package created in Atherton a longing he hadn’t had since
he’d been a child begging for Cook’s biscuits. And just as then, he had post consumption regret.
Mr. Hastings was no simpleton. He’d see the lacking numbers in Atherton’s serving staff.
He’d notice the silence of a home that didn’t welcome guests. And in the course of two months,
he’d discover Atherton’s other secret. He was bound to. It would be unavoidable.
Atherton wasn’t so confident in his selection. The carriage continued its inexorable
progression toward the estate. He should send Mr. Hastings away. He should have Mr. Leedy
greet him on the drive and turn him back. Yet as badly as Atherton wanted to do all those things,
he also wanted Mr. Hastings in his home.
To see those long strides and smiling hazel eyes, to bring to fruition the imagined fall of
his forelocks across his brow when the day had softened the starch in him—these were pieces
Atherton didn’t want to deny himself.
He met so few people. He saw even fewer men who hooked a place behind his chest and
insisted he paid attention. That was how he knew hiring Mr. Hastings was a mistake. Because he
craved Hastings’ eyes on him, and that smile directed at him. Because if Atherton had to marry a
woman in order to free himself from the family curse, he wanted to indulge his final days by
filling his sights with a man such as Hastings.
The clip-clopping of the hooves echoed the rapid beating of his heart. Atherton licked his
lips uncharacteristically. He tightened the hold on his wrist with a quick squeeze and release. The
carriage drew to a halt. Unable to stay still another moment, Atherton left the window
overlooking the drive.
He could already feel the change taking hold of him as anxiety forced its way to the
surface. All the studied calm he’d tried to use sifted away in the light of his racing mind. Tears
stung his eyes as pain gripped him.
Atherton raised his face to the ceiling. His skull cracked and his nose lengthened,
thickened, furred. Atherton’s gasped grunt turned to a mournful howl. His knees gave out,
throwing him to the floor moments before his fingers curled in upon themselves. Flesh ripped,
bones strained and split. His lungs filled and expanded on another long howl.
Panting, Atherton hung his head. His limbs trembled as he tested the reattached muscles
in all four extremities. Resignedly, he shook his lower clothes off and backed out of his shirt,
deliberately kept loose at the neck for times like these during the full moon phase.
Day one of Mr. Hastings in his home, and he couldn’t even hold his human form long
enough to greet him. This had been a poorly planned idea, indeed. Shame and horror swamped
him. Atherton’s claws clacked noisily on the wooden floors as he loped, defeated, toward the
hallway.
This wasn’t how he’d intended to greet his tutor, which was why he’d specifically
requested Mr. Hastings not arrive until tomorrow. But early or not, Mr. Hastings would be
wondering where his charge was, having never actually met Atherton in his human form.
Atherton was beginning to wonder if he could even manage to retain his human self in light of
the stress having the other man around caused.
Atherton stopped at the top of the grand staircase, looking down at the young man who
entered the receiving hall with Mr. Leedy and the butler. Mr. Leedy introduced the upstairs and
downstairs housekeepers. The expression of curiosity on Mr. Hastings’s face as he looked
around transmitted even at this distance.
“Are there no others?” Mr. Hastings asked.
“Others?” Mr. Leedy questioned.
“With a house this size, I would have expected a larger serving staff.”
“Lord Atherton doesn’t entertain. He chooses to keep his staff limited to a small
collection of loyal employees. I trust you can manage your own dress?”
Mr. Hastings smiled tightly. “I’ve been dressing myself for many years now, thank you.
I’ll be well appointed on my own.”
“Very well. In that case, Mrs. Flynn will direct you to your quarters—” Mr. Leedy lifted
his chin toward the stairs, breaking off when he saw Atherton.
A moment of surprise, and the flash of fear that hadn’t left Mr. Leedy upon seeing his
employer as a wolf after all these years, darted across his features. Mr. Leedy collected himself
and gave Atherton a nearly imperceptible nod. Atherton tucked his muzzle downward in
acknowledgment.
“See that you’re unpacked and dressed for dinner, Mr. Hastings. I suspect his lordship
will request your company and begin discussions regarding the expectations of your
employment.”
Mr. Hastings had followed Leedy’s gaze, and it rested now on Atherton. It was careful,
watchful. Atherton could nearly hear the questions bumping against themselves behind those
eyes.
Atherton backed up, feeling the tenuous control on his animal form slipping. It had been
a near miracle that he’d held himself together through the prior meeting. Evidently, his control
wasn’t as strong this day. He turned and ran, praying he wouldn’t shift out before he reached the
sanctuary of his room.
Chapter Two
The wolf darted out of view. With more confidence, Michael climbed the stairs after Mr.
Leedy. He’d adjust to the animal eventually. He’d have to. They reached the landing in the upper
hall. Michael glanced to the right to see where it had gone.
Mr. Leedy tried to direct him to the left corridor, but Michael froze in shock. A man
stumbled against the wall, his shaggy blond head bowed as he drunkenly wobbled on his feet.
But what shocked him most was the man’s state of undress. Namely, the man’s stark nudity.
He was tall and muscled as though he were a laborer, however his skin appeared far too
pristine to have ever been scalded by the sun. Michael stared in fascination at the delineation of
his chest and abdomen. While he himself had a well-formed body, Michael had never
encountered a man of breeding with such obvious physical power. His musculature marked each
rib; it hugged a central line of hair that flared just below the umbilicus to collect at the base of a
magnificent cock and low, full testicles.
“Mr. Hastings, please come this way.” Mr. Leedy tugged on Michael’s arm.
Michael jerked out of his grasp. “Is this Lord Atherton?”
The nude man lifted his head. Piercing silver eyes met Michael’s for the first time.
Michael inhaled sharply. Whoever he was, the naked god before him had drunk more than his
share of spirits.
Michael frowned. It appeared he had his work cut out for him. Two months, a period he’d
thought was more than adequate to prepare a lord for a Christmas Ball, suddenly seemed far too
limiting.
“His lordship is not well. Please come away with me, immediately,” Mr. Leedy insisted.
“His lordship hired me to prepare him for social interaction. Where better to start than the
appropriateness of adequate attire in public?” Michael argued.
“You are a day early, sir. You have no idea what you’ve come across. Mind yourself that
you don’t judge before being privy to the workings of this house.” Mr. Leedy snatched at
Michael’s arm again.
Michael turned and walked to Lord Atherton, who was slowly regaining some balance.
The handsome lord took hold of the door handle as though he meant to flee inside, but Michael
reached him before he could escape. Michael put his hand over Lord Atherton’s. Without waiting
for permission, he slipped his arm around the lord’s bare waist, and opened the door.
“Lean on me, my lord. I’ll help you settle,” Michael directed firmly.
“Really, Mr. Hastings, you overstep yourself,” Mr. Leedy barked.
Michael glared at him. “Perhaps I have, Mr. Hastings, or perhaps his lordship requires
more care than I was led to believe. Either way, I’m here now, and he requires assistance. There
will be time later for you to chastise me. At present I’ll do precisely what I was hired to do and it
begins here, now, with his lordship at the very bottom of his preparedness.”
Mr. Leedy sputtered.
Michael was surprised to hear the low chuckle of his naked employer. “It’s alright,
Leedy. I’ve been caught, and you’ve been corrected.”
Michael didn’t wait to see if Leedy permitted him to continue, he helped his lordship into
the room. A huge suite opened with an enormous bed and rich appointments. Decadent burgundy
details on rich cream adorned the bed and canopy, reflected in the colors throughout the room’s
decoration. Though the combination could have been feminine, the large heavy wooden furniture
stopped it short and spoke only of masculine elegance.
This room belonged to a man of breeding and culture. It didn’t fit the drunken lord who
wandered undressed through the halls of his castle. Perhaps it promised more lucid moments, or
it had been decorated by another’s eye and was tolerated by a man who didn’t care one way or
the other about the things which surrounded him. Michael assumed he’d discover the truth soon
enough.
He carefully led his lordship to a dressing chair. “Sit here, my lord. I’ll collect your
attire.”
A pile of clothes had been left on the floor. Michael gathered them and carefully laid
them at the foot of the bed for the housekeeper to review. Then, moving between the armoire and
the chest of drawers, he pulled together a fine outfit in gray tones to match the man’s unusual eye
color. He gave a passing thought to the awareness that he’d considered the color perhaps too
closely, but brushed it aside. He brought the garments to the dressing chair and lifted the gown
first.
Lord Atherton stared steadily at him.
“My lord, might you lift your arms for me?”
He tried to hold his lordship’s gaze as though it were no difficulty. Silver eyes regarded
him above the slight tilt of a curious smile. Atherton sat back in his chair, pushing his legs out
before him in a reclining pose. Slowly Atherton cocked a tawny brow.
If Michael weren’t convinced of Atherton’s drunkenness, he’d have sworn the man was
taunting him. It was foolish to think so. Atherton had no way of knowing Michael’s inclinations
toward other men, and yet the new pose spiked Michael’s already accelerated heart rate.
“Are you so ready to cover me up, Mr. Hastings?”
He was, but not in the manner Atherton intended. “You’ll catch cold, and it’s unseemly to
parade about undressed.”
A golden glint entered the man’s eyes. Michael thought he imagined the color shift.
Atherton’s eyes narrowed. He gripped the armrests, and rose to his full height, towering over
Michael by several inches. He stood close, and Michael debated whether he should retreat to
give his lordship room, or if this was a test of his mettle.
Deciding that his lordship had better get used to being directed over the next two months,
Michael stood his ground. He lifted his gaze from broad shoulders to lips that had twisted into a
knowing smile, and up to the bi-tonal silver and gold-streaked irises. He caught his breath. The
man was truly magnificent.
Atherton’s expression had changed when they’d entered the room. His lordship had
appeared calm if chagrined. All semblance of discomfort had fled. In its place rooted dominance
and something darkly aware. Michael suddenly remembered his place and glanced away. He
might be a drunken man’s tutor, but he wasn’t a Viscount’s better.
Atherton chuckled low as he had earlier. “Why dissemble now, Hastings? You’ve stood
your ground admirably, despite your odd welcome here.”
“My lord, forgive my impertinence. I’m here to help you, not offer up judgment.”
“And yet you have judgment, don’t you?”
Fingers sifted into the back of Hastings’s cued hair, scraping lightly against his scalp and
roughly pulling until Michael had no choice but to look at the man who commanded his
attention.
A low rumble escaped Atherton, and he descended, claiming Hastings’s mouth in the kiss
of a starving man. Michael lost his bearings as his head swam and his stomach plummeted
sharply. Held in place by the hand in his hair, Michael’s knees weakened. He scrabbled at
Atherton’s shoulders, trying desperately to hold on and keep his feet. Lust swamped him.
He gasped, and Atherton easily invaded him. His tongue passed Michael’s lips to fill his
mouth. Michael’s body rioted. His cock filled, pressing insistently at his breeches. The forbidden
press of a man’s lips to his tipped his senses.
Did Atherton know? Was he using his knowledge to put Michael in his place and have
information to hold over him?
It was possible, although Michael couldn’t imagine a peer of the realm using desire to
master another man, or what Atherton could gain from it, but thinking clearly wasn’t an asset
Michael possessed at the moment.
Just as quickly as it had begun, Atherton lurched away, stumbling backward to hold the
chest of drawers for support. His widened silver gaze searched Michael’s with shock and horror.
Michael winced, preparing for the accusations. Sick dread shook him. All of the ton
would know his proclivities. His family, his peers, they’d know what he was, and they’d watch
him sentenced for his abominable lusts.
“Go,” Atherton barked sharply.
“My lord…” he began, although he had no idea what he’d say in his defense.
He couldn’t very well suggest that his lordship had caused the aberration in decorum, he
was drunk. He had title and privilege. Michael had nothing and no witness. What a man did
while inebriated did not always follow true to his nature.
Not even a day and Michael was already at the whim of his employer’s mercy.
“I said go.”
“I’ll have my carriage packed this evening.”
Atherton snarled angrily. “You’re still under agreement with me, Mr. Hastings. You
won’t leave just yet. You’ll give me until tomorrow, when I’m more myself. Do you
understand?”
“Yes, my lord.” No, my lord. Not in the least, my lord. Michael stiffened his spine. There
was one more thing. “Tomorrow we’ll address the parameters of our agreement. I was not fully
informed when it was made.”
Atherton snarled at him. Michael left hastily.
Atherton scrubbed a hand down his face. Damn the beast in him. Damn Hastings for
appealing to him so thoroughly. Damn himself for falling prey to his own instincts. Damn the
moon for ruling him even in his human form.
Hastings had hurried from his quarters, and all Atherton wanted to do was command him
to return and get on his knees. Atherton’s raging cock had ideas of exactly what he wanted
Hastings’ lush mouth to do to his turgid member.
Before, in the study, he’d watched the man. Though he’d been an animal, he’d been able
to appreciate Hastings with the eye of a man. Having kissed him, tasted him, felt him tremble as
Atherton claimed his mouth, there’d be no possibility of forgetting.
After that kiss, Hastings probably expected to increase his wages assuming his body had
become part of the agreement. It hadn’t been at the time of the arrangement, although Atherton
had to admit he had chosen Hastings specifically for his birth order, rank, and extreme good
looks.
However. He’d overstepped himself in kissing Hastings. Oh, he’d do it again more than
likely, but he shouldn’t. If Hastings’ rapid departure after the kiss indicated what Atherton
presumed it did, Atherton would be paying for the privilege of tasting that mouth this time—and
the next. And Atherton would accept because it would be the last time he’d be true to his nature
and fall into the arms of another man.
Atherton was a lot of things. An adulterer wouldn’t be among them.
Atherton groaned. He dropped raggedly to his chair, catching his thick cock in his hand.
He dropped his head back, imagining that kiss again, the timidity of Hastings’ tongue, the gasp.
Atherton rubbed his palm against the sensitive underside of his own cock. Already moisture
dripped from the end, and he used it to ease the passage of his hand.
He imagined his hand was Hastings’, and Atherton hissed as he wrapped his fingers
tightly around himself and began a slow, satisfying pump, thumbing the rim of his cock, drawing
the foreskin back on the pull. His breath rasped loudly in his own ears as heightened arousal and
wolf sense took over.
He could still smell Hastings’ scent in the air. Could still see the nervous flare of his
nostrils after Atherton had released him. And could he smell the musky scent of arousal? He
couldn’t be sure as his own so readily perfumed the air.
Atherton worked his shaft rhythmically, increasing his pace until he couldn’t resist
bucking his hips to meet his attentive fist. He fucked his hand, felt the roughness of it on his
tender flesh and knew it would be ruddy when he’d finished. He didn’t care. No one would see it
but himself, and he’d know it was an homage to Hastings’ sweet mouth and soft lips.
God, those lips. What other treasures did the young man hide? Would his ass be smooth
and flex to take Atherton? Consuming heat tingled his sac, swirling and swirling, mirroring the
pattern he saw behind his lids. Without warning, he came. Atherton shouted as milky cum
sprayed and the building heat coursed through his body.
He gasped for breath, the quiet of his room unimpressed with his display. He pumped his
cock a few more times. Already he grew less firm, and he closed his eyes on the very human
pain of wanting a man he couldn’t have. A man who might take Atherton’s secret and ruin his
chances of finding a bride.
Tomorrow, when his mind was clearer and the mastery of the moon was no longer strong
in him, he’d deal with Hastings. He’d make him understand. He’d let him believe Atherton had
been drunk and the kiss wouldn’t recur. He’d laugh it off and tell Hastings he was a fool to
concern himself.
And they’d start over. And Atherton would keep himself in check. And the wolf would
be at bay for another month. If there was a god, he’d see to it that Atherton didn’t give into the
lusts of his wolf again.
* * * *
Michael had told his family that he’d be wintering with a University chum. They hadn’t
cared so long as their heir and spare were accounted for.
It had been a week since his first introduction to Lord Atherton. Mr. Leedy had explained
the drunken behavior of his lordship and the requirement that every few weeks, his lordship
would take several days of complete privacy. Under no circumstances was Mr. Hastings to
interfere in that schedule.
The secrecy, the rules, they seemed to fill the manse on hushed voices and whispered
conversations. Mr. Leedy left after issuing his lordship’s demands.
Michael entered the library to meet with Mr. Leedy and Lord Atherton. It made him
distinctly uncomfortable, as he wasn’t clear on how much Mr. Leedy knew. Perhaps it was the
reason Mr. Leedy would be present. Perhaps in having him there, Atherton knew Michael’s
discussion about the events of their last meeting would be limited.
Well, the tables would turn. Michael had no intension of discussing the kiss or the feel of
Atherton’s cock pressing against the front placket of Michael’s breaches. On the contrary to what
the lord might be thinking, he’d liked that bit. The behavior might be out of the ordinary for
Atherton, but Michael didn’t know that for certain, meaning any inkling he may have had about
discouraging further contact between them had been a whisper easily brushed aside.
If Atherton deemed it necessary to impose on Michael again, far be it from him to
reprimand the only male attention he’d had in months—this time from a far superior specimen.
It had taken hours before Michael finished unpacking his belongings and settled into
sleep that first evening. When he had, he’d dreamed of ravenous lords chasing him through well-
appointed ballrooms and demanding his cock for endless pleasure. He hardened now just
thinking of it. Fortunately, Mr. Leedy didn’t deign to look up when Michael entered, and
Atherton had yet to appear.
“Take a seat, Hastings.”
Michael did as Leedy asked, more to conceal his apparent state than to follow orders
from the sallow man.
The door opened and closed behind Michael and the heavy, even tread of steps could
only have belonged to Atherton. Michael stood out of respect, but Atherton waved for him to sit.
Mr. Leedy lifted his head and nodded as Atherton took the chair beside Michael and the
secretary lowered his papers to join them at a third of the four circled wingback chairs.
Atherton crossed his legs elegantly, not a trace of the inebriated man from the week
before. “You’ve called this meeting, Hastings. What did you wish to discuss?”
Michael folded his hands on his crossed knee. “May I be blunt, my lord?”
Atherton gestured for him to continue. “By all means.”
“When we reached an agreement for the next months of tutelage, I was led to believe that
my assistance was in addition to his lordship’s existing manner. I wasn’t instructed that there
could be a behavior requiring counter-teaching.”
“Speak plainly, man,” Atherton snapped.
“You were drunk last night. Naked and drunk, without any concern for your state of
undress,” Michael blurted. He nearly winced at his impertinence in addressing a lord in such a
manner.
Atherton seemed unperturbed. He pyramided his fingers before his lips as he considered
Michael. “Your concerns are valid. You have no prior history with me to know that what you
witnessed last night isn’t common to me.”
“An aberration in behavior?” Michael asked, feeling somewhat relieved and more than a
little disappointed.
He nodded. “I don’t expect you to take responsibility for my—foibles. I expect you to
polish my social interactions to the best of your ability. That is why you were hired.”
“I see.” Michael did see, but it still begged clarification. He dropped his crossed leg and
sat forward slightly. “Can you tell me with absolute certainty that you will not be found parading
about in your altogether again?”
Atherton’s expression darkened. “What happens in my home is my personal matter. What
happens in the fine salons of London is yours. Concern yourself with that.”
Michael knew his face had gone pale, for the sickly twist in his stomach and the cool
sweat that touched his brow. He decided not to press the issue. Something about Atherton’s
demeanor warned him from pursuing it. He took a different tack, instead.
“Forgive me, my lord. I have one more question.”
Atherton eyed him speculatively. “Ask.”
“This is your home, and I respect that your doings are your own. However, will there be
other times when,” Michael paused, carefully phrasing his words so as not to insult his lordship.
“When you may need assistance as you did last night?”
The speculative look narrowed further. “How do you mean?”
Michael’s throat felt tight. It was possible his question had sounded suggestive, and he
hurried to find a better way to ask his question. “I mean, my lord, that I have no judgment about
what you wear or choose not to wear in your own home. I will abide with whatever your wishes
are. I’m thinking of your modesty when I ask if there will be other times you’ll require my
unscheduled assistance in removing you bodily from the hallway before someone sees you,”
Here Michael stalled, then brightened when he thought of the word he wanted. “Unprepared.”
A small smile tipped Atherton’s lips. Michael thought he may have heard a brief rumble
of amusement, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Perhaps, Hastings,” Atherton answered.
“Perhaps, my lord?” Michael pressed.
Atherton lifted his brows. “Mm.”
At this time, Mr. Leedy squirmed a little too noticeably for Michael to continue ignoring
him. He’d opened and closed his mouth a few times during their exchange, and now he inhaled
sharply as though to speak.
Michael and Atherton both gave him their attention.
“Mr. Hastings. Your arrival here was unexpected by one day. You’ve been informed that
his lordship requires three days every few weeks, to himself. You trespassed upon the third of
those days. What you saw, you shouldn’t have,” Mr. Leedy informed him curtly.
“My apologies for surprising the household. However, if this freedom occurs every
month or so, wouldn’t I be subjected to it again twice over before The Christmas Ball anyway?”
Michael asked.
Mr. Leedy’s mouth moved fishlike, before settling in a thin line. “Perhaps,” he echoed
Atherton’s earlier response.
Michael sat back in his chair, confounded. “Perhaps,” he repeated.
“Exactly,” Atherton agreed.
* * * *
As the week stretched on, Michael became restless. He’d been hired to tutor a lord in
proper etiquette, yet other than a few hallway glimpses, and the library meeting, he hadn’t seen
his student. He’d wandered around the castle, digging for information while he unpacked his
belongings. Michael stumbled upon next to nothing in the way of information. He only knew that
Lord Atherton was the single remaining Viscount Atherton in a slim genealogy of other
Viscounts. He had no apparent heirs which explained the pressing need for a bride to continue
his line.
It seemed the wolf in the coat of arms was another link between past and current Lords
Atherton. A large gray wolf held a place of dominance on the family shield, along with a chalice
overarching the seal. Oddly, the living wolf fixture of the castle had proven scarce. Where
Michael had feared he’d have to deal with the creature on a daily basis, he almost never actually
saw it.
In venturing outdoors, the bleakly looming castle blocked the expanse of English
countryside behind it. It felt as defensive outside as inside. Beyond the butler, the two
housekeepers, a stable keeper, and the cook, only Mr. Leedy and the wolf had been there to rattle
around in the enormous spaces beyond the front doors. Now even Mr. Leedy was gone and the
wolf had all but disappeared.
Could it be the title was in more jeopardy than dying out? Perhaps Lord Atherton didn’t
merely wish to marry well, so much as need to marry into fortune. If so, why the ease of handily
offering Michael four thousand pounds for his services?
Unless his lordship never intended to pay when the deadline was reached. The thought
didn’t sit well with Michael. Other than his word and the handshake between himself and Mr.
Leedy, what was there to prove the agreement occurred? Nothing. A Viscount’s word against the
word of a third son, no matter the family behind him, would be a challenge of honor Michael
could lose.
Michael tromped through the muddy puddles to the front entry. The butler admitted him
as though he’d been waiting. He heard no other staff and it appeared he would rattle around in
the huge estate for the next months with very few servants to fill the empty rooms and an elusive
student.
He might as well say good bye to four thousand pounds, or the next four years of his life.
He’d have no opportunity to tutor Atherton if the lord didn’t soon make an appearance. Michael
didn’t like waiting. He also didn’t like leaving his fate in someone else’s hands.
Michael left his muddy boots with the butler and slipped on the clean pair the man held
out to him.
“Where is Lord Atherton?”
“He’s in his quarters.”
“Thank you.” Michael headed for the stairs.
“Sir, he doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”
“I’m aware of that, Henry. I will take full responsibility for his upset.”
Michael reached the top and quickly walked to Atherton’s door. He knocked.
“I said I didn’t wish to be bothered,” Atherton thundered from the other side.
“It’s Mr. Hastings. I’m coming in. There’s very little you could hide that I haven’t
already seen.”
Michael swallowed past the lump of cold fear. He was taking a risk, and it could be a
fatal one. Michael opened the door.
Lord Atherton paced the expanse of his bedroom. He shot Michael a dark glare. “I said I
didn’t wish to be bothered.”
“I know what you said, my lord. I also recall that you afforded me what is now less than
two months to prepare you for a very important ball.”
“There’s time,” Atherton grumbled.
“Is there? I’ve seen you precisely twice since arriving. In one of those moments you were
undressed and admirably drunk. I’ve neither spoken to you, nor had the pleasure to witness your
manners at mealtime, and it has been a full week. When did you suppose you would grant me
time to assess what improvements are to be made?”
Michael stood firm, his hands behind his back as he waited for Lord Atherton to
acknowledge the situation.
“When I’m damn good and ready.”
“When might that be, my lord. I’ll be sure to work it into the schedule.”
Atherton snarled, actually snarled, at him.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t be surprised if I cry foul on our arrangement. I can hardly be
expected to tutor you in proper etiquette when my pupil refuses to attend me,” Michael
continued. If the man behaved as a child, then Michael would treat him as one.
Atherton seemed to recognize the ploy. He swiveled on his well-shod heel and bore down
on Michael, stopping short of running into him. Atherton bent, the tip of his aristocratic nose
almost touching Michael’s. Michael refused to flinch.
Their gazes clashed, and Michael couldn’t help but think of the last time his lordship had
drawn this close to him. Of course, there was nothing of the stumbling drunk at present. But
when Atherton pulled back minutely and his gaze dropped to Michael’s lips, he wondered if the
other man remembered too.
Michael lifted his brows in question. “You were going to say?”
“Who said I meant to speak? Perhaps I wanted to see if you’d kiss me again.”
Michael’s mouth tightened. He forced himself to swallow his pride and face the man
down. “I refuse to take responsibility for your intoxicated behavior. You kissed me, my lord. Not
the other way around.”
“Bah!” Atherton threw up a hand dismissively.
“Of course if you’d rather shout and stomp than admit it, I’ll be sure to add that to our
agenda of social graces.”
Something resembling humor sparkled in Atherton’s eyes. His lips twitched before
resettling into annoyance. “If I’d kissed you, sir, I suspect you’d have me arrested.”
“Would I? You know me so well?” Michael challenged.
“This isn’t the discussion of gentleman, surely.”
“I believe you hired me to determine that. I suggest that if there’s anything to discuss
between us, it be discussed now.”
“Why?” Atherton said, folding his arms across his chest and looking down his nose at
Michael.
“Tutoring will begin tomorrow morning after breakfast. I want all your concerns
addressed and dealt with before then. So, my lord, if you have anything to say regarding our first
meeting, I suggest you begin talking.”
Atherton scoffed. “What could I possibly say about your perversion?”
Michael ground his teeth together. “Firstly, it’s your perversion. Secondly, I’ve told no
one, nor will I. Thirdly, a gentleman owns up to his errors and graciously begs forgiveness.
Fourthly—”
“Fourthly, I grow tired of this discussion,” Atherton barked.
The discussion was almost as ridiculous as Michael’s growing arousal for the pompous
bastard. He hated arrogance. Unfortunately for Atherton, Michael wasn’t about to take
responsibility for Atherton’s actions. This was a defining moment in his tutelage. If Michael
backed down and let himself be maneuvered, Atherton would use it as a cornerstone for future
manipulations.
“Fourthly, I’m not leaving this room while you’re under the misapprehension that I’m in
the wrong.” Michael took a step forward, daringly poking a finger at Atherton’s chest. “You
were naked last week. You were drunk. You grabbed my head, and you kissed me.” He
punctuated each statement with a poke. “I recognize that you weren’t operating with your full
faculties, and I don’t choose to hold it against you. What say you?”
A small smile touched Atherton’s lips. “I was naked, but I wasn’t drunk. I was quite
sober and fully cognizant of all my actions. And yours. Since you won’t leave, I will.” Atherton
strode from the room.
Michael blinked after him. What did he mean he’d been sober and fully aware? Had he
kissed Michael on purpose? Did he maintain that Michael had kissed him?
Chapter Three
Atherton kept himself in check for the next three weeks. It was as he approached the next
full moon cycle, that his concentration slipped. After yet another discussion from Hastings about
proper use of table utensils, Atherton calmly lowered the dessert spoon. He wanted to throw it.
Of all the lessons, this one was the most boring. However, tossing silver would earn him one of
Hastings’ hard scowls and his insistence that they begin from the top of the meal courses. Not
wanting to secure yet another hour in front of a clean plate, Atherton kept his motions calm and
purposeful.
“We’re done here,” Atherton announced.
Hastings sighed. “Very well. We’ll move to dancing.”
“I hate dancing.”
“Really? When was the last time you danced a reel?” Hastings asked, a smug look on his
face.
Atherton folded his arms and stared Hastings down. Except Hastings had learned a few
things about Atherton over the past few weeks as well, and he didn’t lower his pretty blue eyes
or look away. Damn him.
“I suspected as much. Come,” Hastings said, rising to his feet. “We’ll go to the parlor
where we can close the doors and keep the butler from seeing you.”
“What do I care if the butler sees me?”
“I agree,” Hastings said amiably. “However, I’ve noticed that when there’s an open door
and you’re learning something new, you worry who might be passing. I’m anticipating your
concern and creating an instructive environment until you’re more comfortable.”
“For dancing,” Atherton deadpanned disbelieving.
“For dancing,” Hastings acknowledged.
“Only men who are wet behind the ears dance. Next you’ll have me do a recital for the
servants.”
Hastings didn’t appear to be amused. “I’ll arrange it.”
Hastings led the way to the salon, and he held the door for Atherton. Atherton’s feet felt
especially heavy. The waxing moon approached, and while Hastings had been informed that
there’d be a three day lapse in tutoring both months, that didn’t mean Atherton’s wolf wasn’t
primed toward dominance even before the cycle began.
“When was the last time you danced a reel, my lord?” Hastings asked in seriousness.
“At University.”
“Then I have my work cut out for me.”
Hastings went through the steps of one reel slowly. He clapped his hands in time, and he
promenaded. Atherton folded his arms across his chest, refusing to offer the other man any
expression whatsoever. Finally, Hastings stopped.
“Now it’s your turn.”
“I think not,” Atherton protested mildly.
“Did you, or did you not, hire me to instruct you in proper etiquette?”
“I did. Dancing was not among the subjects.”
“On the contrary,” Hastings corrected, smiling. “Proper etiquette in courting a lady will
require dancing, especially at a ball. Her father will also be keen to learn your proper deportment
and social integration. Without the smallest of pleasantries on the dance floor, you could risk
your entire purpose.”
“What do you care?” Atherton snapped.
Hastings laughed. “I don’t. If you fail to secure a wife because of something you refused
to learn, then I’m free in one month’s time with four thousand pounds richer. Do what you will,
my lord.”
Hastings mirrored Atherton’s position although he appeared far more jovial than
Atherton felt. For effect, Atherton scowled. It merely made Hastings’ shoulders shake with
subdued laughter.
“Very well. But I don’t wish to dance reels.”
“There’s only the waltz then, my lord. It’s used sparingly, and one never dances a waltz
with a lady more than twice without receiving censure. As you seem to be avoiding scandal, my
recommendation is that you dance once with a lady unless you are supremely interested in
securing her.”
“I may avoid reels altogether?” Atherton asked skeptically.
“You may. You’ll seem apart from the others, but it may serve in your favor. The aloof,
handsome lord who lurks about the edges of the ballroom, pausing only to waltz with the
prettiest ladies.” Hastings’ voice dropped low as though he were telling a tale of intrigue.
“Handsome?” Atherton’s ears perked up. Hastings considered him handsome?
Hastings looked at him as though considering a great enigma. “Beneath the hair, you’re
quite fetching—for the ladies. I assume.” His gaze dropped away. “You have the look about you
that is popular this season.”
“What look might that be?” Atherton pressed, wanting to hear Hastings hale his
attributes.
“Well-formed, pale coloring, surly,” Hastings answered with a twinkle in his eye. “In dire
need of a cue and a shave.”
Atherton rubbed his scruffy jaw. Shaving cleanly became a near impossibility the closer
he came to the three-day cycle of the moon’s phases. The uncombed hair was pure laziness as he
had no patience for pulling through the knots. His tolerance wasn’t an attribute he could count on
at this time of month.
Atherton snarled before he caught himself. Hastings raised his brows. He had become
quite practiced at the patronizing lift.
“No reels,” Atherton snapped.
“It makes no matter to me, my lord.” He held out his hand. “Care to waltz with me?”
Atherton’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“Do you know how to waltz and turn?”
Atherton’s heart pounded madly. Take his hand? Dance with Hastings? Somehow he
hadn’t gone as far as to picture twirling the floor with Hastings. Now that he did imagine it, his
mouth had gone dry, and he had nothing clever to say.
“With you?” Atherton asked.
Hastings did a slow turn, his arm outstretched as it had been upon the offer to dance.
Coming around again, he cocked his head to one side. “Did you suppose you might dance with
another person in the room?”
Atherton grumbled, but he took Michael’s hand. Michael ignored the thrill of Atherton’s
fingers sliding on his palm.
“Lift this arm, elevate the elbow slightly, and cup her hand,” Michael instructed. “Your
other hand may rest lightly on her side. You lead. Show me what you know of waltzing, and I’ll
show you how to do it properly.”
Atherton’s mouth had twisted into an impressive frown. Michael began a count. Atherton
moved. So long as they weren’t spinning, Atherton did a fair job. However, he only moved
Michael in a straight line, backward.
After several corrections, Atherton seemed to grow tired of the exercise. His hand slid to
Michael’s waist. Michael was disinclined to correct him. Atherton led Michael through another
poorly executed turn, spinning him a little too vigorously and gripped Michael’s waist too
tightly. The spin brought them together until their chests bumped, and Atherton no longer held
his waist, but had an arm wrapped around Michael.
Atherton stepped on Michael’s toes. Michael stumbled, lost his balance, and toppled into
his dance partner. Atherton adjusted quickly, catching him. He held Michael tightly.
Michael clutched Atherton’s upper arms to keep from falling and finally managed to
stand. Except Atherton didn’t release him.
Michael’s heart pounded, the blood rushing in his ears as he looked up at the lord.
Atherton’s eyes seemed distant, yet searching. They darted over Michael’s face, settling on his
lips. Was he thinking about the last time they’d been this close? Michael certainly was, but his
lordship had been drunk off his arse.
Atherton helped steady Michael, though there was no need. He stood fine, if a bit shakily,
as the man in front of him seemed to devour Michael’s face with conflicting expressions of
wonder, curiosity, and fear.
Blunt fingertips brushed the loosened strands off Michael’s forehead, then grazed the
angle of his cheekbone and jaw. Atherton traced Michael’s bottom lip. Air didn’t seem to be
readily in supply, and Michael parted his lips as though that would alleviate his breathlessness. It
might have done, if Atherton hadn’t sighed.
The thready, almost mournful sound kissed Michael’s cheeks with longing. His gut
tightened sharply. He didn’t dare move. He could hardly press his mouth to Atherton’s without
fearing reprisal. Nor could he discourage Atherton from the hunger Michael read in his caressing
gaze.
Had Atherton been drunk that precious moment he’d kissed Michael? Could there be any
other reason behind a proud lord stumbling naked into the hallway? Michael knew there couldn’t
be.
Yet here, now, he faced the man so closely, and Atherton didn’t waver, nor did he release
his ironclad hold on Michael. What did it mean? What did he wish? He must know Michael
didn’t dare expose his true nature to a Viscount.
Did Atherton have the same fears?
“My lord,” Michael whispered, fearing his voice would break the spell, but needing to
express his acceptance of what could be between them. “Are there—other areas of study you
wish me to cover?”
Atherton’s brows drew together. “Explain,” he murmured back, just as quietly.
Michael dared to sweep his hands from Atherton’s upper arms, to his shoulders. He let
them rest in the cautiously intimate embrace. He hoped Atherton understood his unspoken offer.
Atherton shook his head slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You must make your meaning
clear if I’m to understand, Michael.”
His heart skipped rapidly as he heard his Christian name fall from Atherton’s lips. Was it
an invitation? Atherton asked him to clarify, but what if it was a ruse? Men and women didn’t
have to concern themselves with death upon confession of their hearts. Men declaring
themselves to other men, however, was entirely different.
Atherton didn’t appear to be setting a trap. Not when he continued to hold Michael. Not
when his arm seemed to tighten on Michael’s waist and he gently lifted Michael’s chin with the
crook of his finger.
“There isn’t a secret you need fear,” Atherton told him.
But he did fear. He wanted to revel in the warmth of Atherton’s body and feel his arms
wrapped around his naked form. He wanted permission to bury his face in Atherton’s neck and
drop kisses across his wide, firm chest. Michael felt faint with the need. Never had he been as
drawn to another man as he was to Atherton. As though Michael had imbibed too much wine,
wanting warmed his veins and clouded his judgment until he didn’t care what happened to him,
so long as he admitted his longing to Atherton.
“I do fear,” he said speaking the words aloud.
“What do you fear?” Atherton murmured.
“Death, my lord.”
“I won’t kill you, Michael.”
Michael searched his eyes. Atherton’s nearness was clear encouragement. Boldness fled
Michael.
“Why do you concern yourself with death? You’re young, strong, healthy. I can smell
your youth and virility.”
Michael wondered at the odd statement. Suddenly, Atherton swept him into a perfect
waltz, body pressed to body. His arms held Michael easily taking him through complex and
quick spins. Michael hugged his shoulders, his hands catching behind Atherton’s neck and
beneath his mass of wild blond hair.
Atherton laughed joyfully. He stopped at the end of a final spin and breathlessly claimed
Michael’s mouth. Michael moaned desperately. The surprise of it, and the desire for just such a
kiss, temporarily overwhelmed his senses allowing the telltale sound to escape.
The kiss slid sensuously across Michael’s mouth. The soft heat made him giddy and he
captured Atherton’s upper lip between his teeth, tugging on the slim morsel. It seemed to
enflame Atherton, because he delved deep into Michael’s mouth, sucking his tongue. Michael’s
cock, already alert, now throbbed with the promise of what that mouth could do to the rest of
him.
His mind swam. Viscount Lord Atherton kissed him freely, expertly, without reservation.
He demanded and received from Michael, seemingly without concern for discovery and with a
passion unlike anything Michael had experienced.
Atherton ended the kiss. “Are you convinced you have lessons to teach me?”
Michael’s heavily lidded gaze swept to his. A teasing lightness greeted him.
“Or might I have a few things to impart on you?”
“You may impart whatever you wish, my lord,” Michael offered through rapid breaths.
“Whatever I wish? Are you certain?”
Michael licked his lips wanting nothing more than to continue his education from
Atherton. The strange lightheadedness he felt could only be explained by the intensity of his
feelings, he presumed. However, the desire to allow Atherton to do with him as he chose was
new. As was the eager throb of Michael’s cock to be mastered. Later, he’d wonder what had put
him so out of character. He’d never been submissive before, but all he craved at the moment was
whatever Atherton bestowed on him.
“I’m certain,” he answered Atherton’s lingering question.
A predatory lift entered Atherton’s smile. A soft rumble filled his chest and vibrated to
Michael’s. Something akin to anticipation made his skin crawl with the instinctual command that
Michael flee, or hide, as though Atherton intended to eat him alive. As soon as the thought
entered his mind, Michael instantly wanted Atherton’s mouth, his scraping teeth and clawing
hands all over his naked body. He needed it. Now.
Michael dug at his restricting cravat, eyes locked on Atherton.
Atherton covered his hands, chuckling. “Not here. Upstairs.”
He took Michael’s hand and opened a hidden door beside the fire hearth. He led Michael
through dark interior passages that had neither light nor fresh air, up narrow steps, and through
yet another hidden creaking door, into the first bedroom Michael had seen here—Atherton’s. The
wall closed behind them. Atherton held his gaze and reached for a carved wooden chest on a
nearby table.
It seemed intensely important that Michael not look away from him. Atherton’s eyes
glowed golden, beautiful, warming, lustful. How had he ever thought those eyes were silver? He
couldn’t resist and didn’t want to.
“I’m not gentle, Michael. I have no interest in coddling you. I merely wish to fuck you.”
Atherton looked away. Michael blinked in confusion, the spell broken. Longing called to
him all the same.
“If you wish to go, you may. I won’t bother you again,” Atherton said. He pulled several
scarves from the chest, holding them in one hand.
Michael shook his head, trying to clear it of the fog that began to lift. “Leave?”
“You’re not yourself at the moment.” Atherton chuckled roughly feeling the anxious
catch in his throat as he tried to ease the tension. “I’m not myself at the moment, either.”
“Are you compromising me toward blackmail, my lord?” He could feel Michael’s shrewd
gaze.
“There’ve certainly been enough of them in the past season. I believe four were arrested
on suspicion of sodomy, if I’m not mistaken. I would understand believing that I might have an
agenda,” Atherton recognized.
There’d yet to be a lord arrested and tried on a claim of sodomy. However, it wouldn’t
require a trial to ruin him. Perhaps if he married a young lady and got her with child, Atherton
could continue a dalliance on the side more to his liking. Perhaps Hastings would fill that role for
him. He’d commit adultery, for Hastings.
Having a child of his lineage before Atherton’s thirty-third birthday would rid himself of
the wolf. He’d had no other recourse up until then but to live a solitary existence, as all his
predecessors had, until they lifted the curse. The three days of the full moon began tonight. It
was a time of unpredictability when high emotion would change him outside his will. Already he
could feel the animal lust in him, and he knew his wolf gaze could lure the most respectable man
if he had any tendencies toward sodomy. And it appeared Hastings did.
However, tending toward and acting on weren’t the same. Atherton kept his gaze away,
knowing that when the change was upon him, the hue had a mesmerizing effect on others. It
made them bend easily to his will. He didn’t want to influence Michael’s decision. Free will still
meant something to Atherton. It might not on the day of the actual full moon, but today, damn it
all, Atherton could at least give him a choice.
“Why would you mention those poor men now?” Michael asked.
“Because I understand your concern, and I’d understand your rejection in light of our
current times.”
“I see.” Michael moved to stand in Atherton’s line of sight.
Atherton turned away, moving toward his bed as though that had been his intension all
along. “Then you’ll also see that I don’t choose to influence you to behave unnaturally to your
desires.”
His words were met with silence. Atherton stopped, turning his head slightly to the side,
listening for any sound from the other man. Candlelight from his prepared quarters flickered
against the wall, making the shadows of his immense four-post bed dance and sway hypnotically.
Was that a shoe scuffing or the sound of wood sizzling in the fire grate? Atherton couldn’t be
sure as the silence stretched between them.
His back crawled, urging him to face around. What was Michael doing? Atherton inhaled
deeply, depending on his wolf to pluck clues from the air. All he could determine was that
Michael hadn’t left. His acute hearing picked out the quickened pace of his tutor’s pulse, and the
otherwise silent breaths which mirrored his excitement.
Did Michael want him, or was it just the after affects of Atherton’s wolf lure? How many
times had Atherton’s father warned him that when he came of age, he’d have to beware of the
three days of change? How many times had he told Atherton that the scent of his changing form
and the golden-eyed stare beckoned humans beyond their ability to resist?
Atherton wanted to keep distance from Michael, to keep his gaze averted, until Michael
decided under his own power.
“Turn around, Atherton.” Michael’s voice carried softly over the distance.
“I don’t dare until I know what you’d wish from me.”
“You’re asking me to speak the words aloud,” Michael noted. “That requires supreme
trust that you’re you who appear to be.”
“And my supreme trust in you, as you’re standing in my bed chamber after I’ve kissed
you.”
“The word of a lord over the word of a third son doesn’t compare,” Michael reasoned.
“But my word to you should carry some weight.”
“It would if you’d spoken it.”
“Very well,” Atherton whispered, keeping his back to Michael. He ran the collected
scarves through his hand as he spoke. “I want you. I want you in ways that men aren’t permitted
to desire, and yet I do.” He shuddered on a needy breath, hating the open hunger in his tone. “I
want you beneath me. I want to sheath my naked cock in your body and never remove it. I want
your passionate cries to marry mine, and I want you to find me afterward and tell me that it
wasn’t an error in judgment, nor offensive to your person.”
Chapter Four
Michael’s chest tightened on every word. Those words had a similar effect on his cock,
and already the line of his breaches was beyond repair. He’d loosened his cravat downstairs.
Now Michael pulled the tail of his dressing shirt from his waistband. He removed his surcoat,
tossing it to a nearby chair and lifted his shirt over his head to follow.
“Please turn, my lord.”
Atherton’s knotted tawny hair moved side to side as Michael heard him sigh and give in
to the request. “I don’t wish to influence you.”
“Beyond the words you’ve already uttered, I cannot imagine being more influenced than
by the man speaking them,” Michael admitted.
“You say so now, but will you in three days?” Atherton asked. His golden hued eyes
beseeched him.
“Why would three days matter?”
Atherton closed the distance between them. He held Michael’s upper arms loosely as he
looked into Michael’s upturned face. “This place has many secrets, and as many woes. Time will
only make you wiser.”
“Such cryptic runaround doesn’t make you more imposing, my lord,” Michael scoffed.
“Perhaps not, but I fear you’ll change your mind as you come to know this place.”
Atherton’s expression appeared guarded, fragilely optimistic. Michael couldn’t help but
reassure him of his sincerity. He couldn’t imagine the man before him worrying about Michael’s
long-term feelings about bedding him. They both knew in which direction they were headed.
Michael rested his hands on Atherton’s lean, firm hips and drew him nearer until
Atherton’s cock pressed Michael’s belly. Even through the breach-cloth, the heat of the other
man’s erection teased Michael’s answering warmth into a sharp tingle within his sac.
A tiny hop of glee pounded behind his breastbone. Atherton wanted him. Michael wanted
Atherton. They shared the same secret, surely. “There’s no secret so consuming that it can’t be
understood,” Michael answered carefully. “You might say, only I could understand your secret
perfectly.”
Atherton’s eyes narrowed with curiosity and skepticism. “How do you suppose?”
Michael stroked the back of his fingers along Atherton’s straggly beard to cup the side of
his face. “I understand you.”
Atherton closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against the palm with a sigh. “I believe you
think you do, and I believe that in many ways, you might.” His eyes fluttered open. “There are
important aspects I’m sure you alone understand. For now, I accept.”
“Only for now?”
“Now is all I have,” Atherton said.
“In three days your proclivities will change?” Michael asked, bringing forth the previous
reference.
Atherton smiled. Its feral slide hit Michael in the chest sparking nerves and lust. Unkempt
and appearing as dangerous as any highway robber, Lord Atherton made Michael want to forgo
all decorum and tear the man’s clothes off his body.
“My proclivities,” Atherton began, tilting his head to the side to press a kiss to Michael’s
neck. “Will always be what they are. That isn’t my concern. My concern stems from my
influence on you to accept them.”
Michael pulled away slightly. Already the simple touches and open confession made his
head swim. He wanted Atherton, influence or no. Now he had to make Atherton believe it.
Michael’s hand had moved from Atherton’s cheek, to tangle in his mass of dark blond hair. He
tugged on it, trying to get his point across with something more tangible than words.
Atherton grunted, but his brilliant eyes only glowed brighter and more determined.
“You’ve said your piece. Now I’ll say mine. I want your cock inside me. Stop waltzing
around your promises and act on them. I’m a willing participant, now and three days hence.”
The smile Atherton wore resembled that of eagerness for a tasty snack. Michael liked it.
“Such forcefulness. Tell me, young Hastings, do you like a firm hand in your lovemaking
too?”
Atherton roughly cupped Michael’s cock, pinching the base while one errant finger
massaged his testicles through the material. Heat shot through Michael’s veins.
“Yes, my lord. Very much.”
“Then strip, man. I want to see the ass I’ll ravage.”
Atherton’s voice took on a dark, growling aspect that sent shivers down Michael’s spine.
His cock leaked piteously for the promise of rough rutting. The few men Michael had been with
were far too gentle for his liking. Atherton’s heavy-handedness proved a bigger temptation than
he’d ever hoped. Would he finally be granted the thrill he’d always craved but had been too
afraid to ask for?
Michael stripped his breaches, hopped on one foot to free the boot, then switched feet. He
must have seemed ridiculous, bouncing on his toes without a stitch of clothing, yet Atherton
didn’t make light of him. Indeed Atherton’s gaze studied Michael as though he intended to
memorize the way Michael’s body moved—and enjoyed it.
Dutifully, Michael’s cock lifted rigidly upward, tracing moisture on his belly where the
tip of his shaft bumped and slid on his bent torso. Finally, he was free of the infernal footwear,
and he stood with his shoulders back and chest out. Michael knew he was an attractive man. He
had no insecurities in that regard. However, the longer Atherton looked at him, meticulously
raking his gaze over every part, the more Michael’s nerves cranked the spring of anxiety.
“My lord,” Michael dared, though his voice sounded overloud in the quiet quarters. But
Atherton’s silence had stretched far too long, and Michael needed to know if he was pleased or
regretful.
“Hastings?” Atherton mirrored, as though they stood fully clothed among peers in the
parlor.
Atherton’s slow perusal should have dimmed the flame of Michael’s unruly passion, yet
it didn’t. He nearly gasped in relief when Atherton laid a caressing hand on Michael’s chest, just
above his hammering heart.
“Well done.” Atherton nodded his head toward the giant four-poster bed on the far wall.
“Get up there. Lay on your back.”
Michael walked to the bed with carefully controlled steps, trying not to show how eager
he was. He kneed up on the high mattress. Atherton moved behind him. He cupped the globes of
Michael’s ass then sent Michael into motion with a well-aimed slap to his posterior.
“Up,” Atherton commanded.
Michael wanted to bend over the bed and let Atherton slake his lust just as they were, but
the tone in the lord’s voice brooked no disobedience.
“On your back, Hastings. Stretch your arms and legs toward the posts.”
Michael did, wondering if he’d be sexually drawn and quartered, if drawn and quartered
required the rapid, violent use of what was sure to be an enormous cock on his splayed person.
Michael squeezed his eyes shut, his body craving filling as though he had been hollow his whole
life until this moment. He’d never felt the keening wail of need to be taken. He’d never given the
power of his body over to another, yet here he laid arms and legs spread wide as he waited naked
before the hungering gaze of a dominant lord. His lord. His Atherton.
Silken scarves left ticklish trails along the crook of his arm as Atherton wrapped and tied
first one wrist and then the other. He secured the ends to the posts. Michael held himself taut for
the next step. Surely Lord Atherton didn’t intend to tie his ankles also. He knew the answer and
the truth kept him on a blade’s edge of pleasure.
Only Atherton didn’t do as Michael expected. Instead of tying both his ankles to the
posters at the foot of the bed, he tied one to the far corner and the other to Michael’s already
bound wrist, forcing him to bend his knee sharply and keep it still or risk chaffing. The position
brought a blush to his cheeks. Atherton, still half dressed in breaches and boots, surveyed his
work.
“Very pretty,” he murmured appreciatively. “A fine ass and a better cock.” Atherton
stroked a finger down the center of Michael’s balls.
Michael squirmed. His sac rested heavily between his shaft and his hole. The loose skin
drew up and as he looked down he saw his cock straining upward into the air like a proud soldier
at attention. And certainly, attention was what it needed. Vulnerability clawed at him.
The lord returned to the wooden chest from which the scarves had come. Atherton’s back
blocked Michael’s view. Michael’s breath quickened and he was forced to lick his lips when they
dried too much. Atherton dragged an implement across his palm. It had a handle on one end and
what appeared to be several thinly cut leather strips. He couldn’t be sure until Atherton brought it
back to the bed.
“What’s that?” Michael asked, hearing the nervous catch in his voice.
“A flogger specific for pleasure.”
“Will it hurt?” Michael asked, needing to know although he wasn’t sure he cared no
matter the answer.
“Do you want it to?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re new to rough play, but you like it.” Atherton closed his eyes and inhaled. “I
smell your need perfuming the air.”
“You’d see my need if you merely open your eyes, my lord.”
Atherton laughed. “Some things are better understood with the primal senses. I know, for
example, that your taste will be slightly sweet because of the fruit you enjoy, and fresh for the
unusual amount of vegetables you ask Cook to prepare.”
Michael groaned. “My lord, how much longer are you going to tease me?”
Atherton reopened his eyes. He placed the flogger across Michael’s belly. The cold
leather strips made him gasp as much as the foreign weight of the woven leather handle. He
imagined a thousand ways Atherton could use the implement on him.
Michael had once seen a public flogging. The sound of whip and metal hitting flesh, the
cries of the thief pleading for mercy had been enough to scare him as a young boy. Did Atherton
mean to use this smaller flogger the same way?
“Relax, Michael.” Atherton’s steady, calming voice soothed him.
“I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t trust anyone with your person if you aren’t completely
sure of them. But I’m not in a position to question you, at the moment.”
“Aren’t you?” Michael asked.
Atherton carefully worked off his boots and loosened his breaches. He shook his shaggy
head. “No. You may not understand yet, but you will. It’s inevitable.”
“Now that sounds ominous.”
“You’ll understand in time. For now, I’m going to accept your trust. I neither want, nor
choose, to resist you.”
Michael huffed a captive breath. In all his years of being the controlled, proper gentleman
of the ton, he’d never been made to feel quite so out of his element as he did when Atherton
made him feel neither controlled, nor proper. He felt as though he was a child again, learning and
being taught by the school superintendent, except this lesson was one he infinitely preferred to
arithmetic.
Where moments before, the power had been squarely situated on Atherton’s shoulders,
Michael sensed the shift in Atherton’s quietly spoken admission. Michael held the power. Dawn
broke on him in that moment of clarity. Michael held the power, by laying out his naked body,
allowing himself to be rendered immobile, and still asking Atherton to take him with a promise
of trust for whatever he doled out.
With new eyes, he looked at the confident lord who slowly shucked his pants. He noticed
the fine tremble in his hands and the tightness around his eyes that denoted caution. Atherton’s
beautiful golden eyed gaze danced over Michael’s body, seemingly afraid of lingering on any
one place too long. And yet just as there was humility behind his eyes, there was also lust boiling
behind the glimmering irises. Atherton’s duality fought with itself, caution winning, but just
barely.
Michael laid his head back on the pillows. “Don’t resist, then. I wouldn’t have it any
other way.”
Those troubled eyes shot to his. “You should ask me to resist, especially now. I could
hurt you, or scare you, or ruin you.”
“Yes, you could do all those things. But you won’t. Behind your stern demeanor, you’re a
kind man.” Michael searched his eyes. “A lonely man. Like me.”
“You should be discouraging me.”
“Moments ago, you demanded I strip. Are you having second thoughts?” Michael asked.
“I am because you aren’t, and I know better than to entertain my desires during this
cycle.”
Confusion touched him. “What cycle, my lord?”
Atherton waved it off. He seemed to come to some kind of decision, and pushed his
breaches down, easily stepping from them to crawl toward Michael on the massive bed. He took
the flogger in hand, dragging it slowly across Michael’s middle to let the leather strips slide and
tickle their way over his belly.
Michael gasped sharply. Gooseflesh rose up on his arms and his cock flexed impatiently.
If this was flogging, he definitely required more of the same.
Atherton picked up the tool, raised it over his shoulder, and gently slapped it down on
Michael’s chest. There was a slight sting, and the sensation of several fingers stroking his torso
as it trailed his body toward his very interested rod. But Atherton lifted it again before reaching
the location Michael most desired to be touched.
The flogger came down on his stretched shin, moving upward to his thigh, teasing the pit
of his knee where it was exposed, in the process.
Just when Michael thought he knew what Atherton would do next, he changed directions.
Atherton went to each of Michael’s arms, then his face and neck. Slowly the soft touches became
light slaps on his chest. Every nerve in Michael’s body was on edge, ready for the next move, the
next hit, the next touch. His mind lost focus of all other things but the swish and slap of leather
caressing his body at various intensities.
It hit against his ribs and Michaels took in a sharp breath at the ticklish, stinging pleasure.
It passed over his nipples, and he prayed there’d be more torrid play with them later.
At last, Atherton gently swished the straps on Michael’s heated cock. He moaned, trying
to understand the complex, disjointed feelings cascading through his mind as he alternately
wanted more flogging stimulation on his balls, cock, and ass, while also needing Atherton to stop
teasing and take his body.
“Please…”
“Please?” Atherton’s husky voice repeated in question.
Michael grunted, unable to form his next thought adequately to ask for what he wanted,
when he himself wasn’t sure.
Atherton understood. He must have, because Michael had barely recognized his acute
need, when Atherton’s large hand wrapped around Michael’s cock and firmly stroked from base
to tip. The fringes of the flogger flitted across his balls and ass. It was the perfect merge of two
exquisite sensations. That he didn’t have to choose between them, but could have both, freed him
to experience the moment fully.
His hips arched off the bed, helped by the one planted foot, as much as the scarves
allowed movement. Atherton didn’t falter in his wicked coaxing as white bursts flowered behind
his closed lids.
“Is this what you wanted?” Atherton asked.
“Yes,” he rasped.
Atherton’s thumb rode up the underside of Michael’s cock to swirl the hole at the tip and
smooth the moisture on Michael’s flared crown, then down past the ridge to slick his pumping
fist. Pressure built in Michael’s sac, drawing it tight while cool leather tickled endlessly.
“Don’t withhold your pleasure from me,” Atherton warned.
A fine thread of composure snapped somewhere deep in Michael’s chest as he truly let
himself go. He thrust upward, rolling his hips to gain both the teasing ends of the flogger on his
ass and the delicious squeezing grip of his lordships hot, slick palm. Atherton murmured
something that sounded like approval. Michael’s ears roared, drowning out everything but his
own desperate cries.
He’d long since closed his eyes, arching his neck and back to alternately hide and find the
bright spark which beckoned him closer. His shaft felt too full, too sensitive. Atherton’s thumb
swiped Michael’s shaft hole, and he huffed hot breath on Michael’s member.
Michael gasped. His body stiffened. His hips flexed into another thrust and cum raced up
his length. Atherton’s hand covered the tip and Michael heard the sound of wetness hitting flesh.
Michael opened his eyes in time to catch Atherton’s pleased smile and the touch of his tongue to
Michael’s cock-head. That simple thrill drew another spurt from him which Atherton took on the
flat of his tongue before sucking off Michael’s rosy tip.
Michael didn’t have time to wonder about the collection of his cum. Atherton opened his
palm and spat in it, mixing his saliva with Michael’s fluid. He rubbed his hands together,
slicking them over his own engorged member, then roughly massaging the remaining moisture
into Michael’s anus.
A flutter of excitement created a new pressure in the pit of his stomach. He’d been with
men before, but now that Michael’s urgency was sated, the almost wild look in Atherton’s eyes,
the determination that pressed his lips into a thin line, and the quick forceful coaxing of his
fingers on Michael’s body, brought the next moments clearly to the forefront.
There’d be no returning from penetration. Allowing Atherton to sodomize him meant
he’d fully committed to the act of lovemaking with a peer. That was new. Michael had been the
man of power before, whether he rutted the man or the man rutted him. He’d been the one whose
word would carry weight.
Now Atherton had control in every way. If he took Michael’s body and then cried foul, a
Viscount’s word against his about what had happened, would not leave Michael the winner. It
took supreme trust, and yet as he looked upon Atherton’s face, there was no duplicity, only need.
“My lord,” Michael began.
Atherton lifted his head. His golden gaze shone as though lit from within—an internal
fire of gilded flame. It stilled Michael’s tongue and quickened his breath. Michael wanted him
almost to the point of feeling drunk or spellbound. The longer Atherton stared at him, the harder
it was to look away.
Atherton threw the flogger aside. He climbed Michael’s body, looming over him as he
dropped his hips into position. Michael couldn’t have stopped him if he’d wanted to, as he was
kept open by the clever arrangement of scarves. Still, as Atherton’s gaze held his, Michael
dropped his raised knee to the side, opening his body even farther. He wanted there to be no
question of his desire for Atherton.
Cock nudged Michael’s hole and he shuddered, ready.
“Have you changed your mind?” Atherton asked, although it sounded more like a
challenge.
Michael shook his head.
Atherton bent to Michael’s neck. He brushed his lips over Michael’s skin in a feathery
touch. Suddenly teeth caught and held—sharp pointed reminders of his lover’s tendency toward
roughness. Atherton shoved in, grunting as his cock rammed forth past Michael’s barely
prepared hole.
Pain seared Michael as pressure invaded his ass. His body tried to reject the intrusion, but
even as he physically resisted, the eager fluttering he’d felt earlier blossomed into frantic heat.
Michael moaned. Atherton held steady for several moments.
“Harder?” Atherton growled against Michael’s neck.
“Please, my lord. Use me.” The words left Michael’s mouth and for a moment he feared
he’d over-spoken his need.
His lordship didn’t laugh, didn’t blink. He pulled from Michael’s body and rammed in a
second time. Hot and cold swamped Michael. Blood rushed to his head as he felt ready to
explode with the sheer pleasure brought from being forcefully taken by Atherton’s impressive
cock. He wanted this man to crawl inside of him and fuck him from within, if that were possible.
Chapter Five
Atherton looked down at Michael through a haze of red-colored hunger. He wanted to
root around on the man, mark his bedroom door, roll in his bed clothes, snuffle at his cock and
balls. He wanted to lick and lick and lick and then rub against every part of him to mingle their
scents together unmistakably.
His ears buzzed as his superior lupine senses took hold. He heard each rasp of breath
from the man beneath him, as it raced through excited and constricted airways, each double
thump of his clutching heart, the soft pitches not heard by human ears but were as much of a cry
of pleasure as the hungry little moans escaping Michael’s pliant lips.
Atherton thrust, losing himself to the dragging heat of Michael’s ass. Michael’s cum
laced the air and Atherton inhaled sharply, flooding his olfactory senses as much as he could to
imprint Michael on every corner of his mind, and soothing those parts of him that had hoped
he’d find a connection with Michael.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Atherton’s voice grated over the admission.
“We only just met,” Michael said.
Atherton caught Michael’s earlobe between his teeth and pulled as he rammed into
Michael’s anus over and over, bucking hard into the thrust, making his balls bounce on the other
man’s ass.
“I’ve seen you many times.”
“Where?”
“London,” Atherton told him.
He placed a hand over Michael’s mouth to still the questions, smashing Michael’s lips
behind his fingers. It was all he’d explain. Telling Michael that Atherton had lurked the shadows
or had followed him and watched, either as man or animal, wasn’t a something he was ready to
share. Michael nipped Atherton’s fingers and lifted his hips.
Their eyes clashed. Atherton shifted, moving so that his face was before Michael’s and
they were eye to eye, unable to hide whatever feelings fucking each other had brought to bear.
Michael grunted, his body jerked with each rough thrust of Atherton’s cock.
“Mine,” Atherton whispered. “You’ll never fuck another man without thinking of me.”
Passion glazed Michael’s eyes; Atherton could smell the dark thrill of it on his skin.
Michael’s forehead drew, lifting his brows above the bridge of his nose, and his body clenched
on another ragged cry. Moisture spurted between them as Michael came a second time.
Atherton chuckled. “Well done, Hastings. Well done.”
He released Michael’s mouth, planted both hands on the bed either side of Michael’s
waist, and fucked in earnest. Atherton shouted, rocked hard, slamming balls deep and feeling the
muscled give of ass cheeks against his hip bones. Lust coiled around the base of his cock and lit
the sparking fuse as all thought narrowed to the labored sound of the man beneath him and the
smell of hot cum in the air.
A howl ripped from Atherton’s chest as orgasm streaked up his shaft and emptied into
Michael’s grasping body. Atherton’s arms shook, as he held himself up. His head fell forward,
and he shook it to clear the ringing. Slowly his surroundings came back to him, and Atherton felt
the unnatural tension of the unmoving man beneath him.
Atherton opened his eyes. Michael’s face had gone pale and he stared at Atherton in
horror. Atherton tried to think why. He knew he hadn’t shifted during sex. It wasn’t possible to
do so. Now that they were finished, he’d have to send Michael away for the next three days,
though. Atherton was nearly certain to shift into his wolf form purely from the fatigue of
lovemaking.
“Michael?” Atherton asked. “What is it?”
“Untie me.”
“What is it?” Atherton demanded.
“Untie me now.”
Atherton swallowed hard. He extracted his semi-hard cock from Michael’s body and
immediately reached back to untie the scarves at either ankle. Michael drew his legs up,
protectively. He pulled on his arms. Was Michael’s fear so great that he thought tugging would
free him when no amount of pulling during sex had loosened the hold of the fabric?
It confused Atherton. “Tell me what’s the matter.”
Michael’s lips rolled in on themselves as though holding words at bay. He refused to
meet Atherton’s look. Atherton released first one arm, and then the other. Michael leaped off the
bed. He didn’t bother to take his clothes before racing out of the room in his altogether.
Atherton sat back on his knees, his gaze riveted to the door. Finally, Atherton climbed off
the bed and walked to his mirror. Nothing seemed out of ordinary. Nothing. What had scared
Michael badly enough to send him running from the bedchamber?
* * * *
Michael had received word that Lord Atherton wasn’t going to be available for teaching
the next three days. That was fine with Michael. Atherton had scared him. He felt childish for
fearing a man he’d spent the last month getting to know. They’d been alone countless hours, held
away on the estate far from neighboring lands, and never once had Michael feared for his safety.
Until that evening.
He’d locked his bedroom door that night, then spent hours looking for secret entrances
that might allow Atherton entry. He hadn’t found any. That didn’t mean he rested any easier. On
the contrary, each sound of settling wood and creaking glass from the window made him tense.
He took all meals in his room trying to make sense of what he’d seen, and wishing he had the
luxury of talking to Atherton for an explanation. Except that Atherton was the reason for
Michael’s state.
Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps Atherton hadn’t bayed like a wolf at a full moon when
he’d emptied his seed inside of Michael. Perhaps his eyes hadn’t ever been gold and they’d
always been silver. Except that Michael knew better. When Atherton had reopened his eyes after
ruthlessly fucking Michael, all trace of yellow had vanished.
But there was something else, less definable. It was the feeling that Michael needed to
leave immediately. It was the feeling of being watched or stalked by something that could devour
him and leave nothing but a bloody trace. There was no reason for it, just the cold crawl on his
skin, and the way every hair on his body rose.
What did one call that? It made no sense whatsoever. Yet as intangible as that feeling
was, he couldn’t shake the certainty that he’d been in danger of something real. The unnamed
fear is what disconcerted him the most. He could talk himself out of the howl, which carried too
loudly and too full-bodied to be human. He could talk himself out of the eye color change,
because he could think of two people he knew whose eyes shifted between blue and green, and
brown and green. But he couldn’t explain what he had no way of explaining until he understood
it. The fear.
It didn’t help that the second night, the night of the full moon no less, the wolf had
scratched at Michael’s door and snuffled underneath it. That it had sat outside his door and
howled ungodly loudly, just as Atherton had the moment he’d come inside of Michael. Was the
man so like his pet?
He wanted to see Atherton. To put to rest his fears. To tell him that night had been
magnificent, and he wanted to do it again. Then to tell him the odd thoughts and feelings he’d
had starting with that cry.
He needed to know. It had been two days. Michael stared at the door latch for several
minutes before opening it and sticking his head into the hall. He didn’t see any sign of the
animal. Michael left his room and walked quickly down the hallway to Atherton’s door.
“Atherton,” Michael called, knocking on the door.
“Leave,” he rasped from the other side.
“There’s too much to talk about.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow your wolf may have already broken into my room and feasted on me.”
Michael heard something heavy hit against the other side of the door, rather like a head
dropping against it.
“Won’t hurt you,” Atherton said.
Michael flattened his palm on the wood where he imagined Atherton’s head was. “You
aren’t well, are you?”
“No.”
“Let me in.”
“No,” Atherton returned bluntly.
“I want to help. I need to see you.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Fuck tomorrow! I’ll see you now, and we’ll discuss that evening.”
“No discussion.”
Michael pounded the door with the flat of his hand. “You’re the most stubborn gentleman
I’ve come across, my lord. However, you’ve made the mistake in thinking that I’ll give in.”
“You did once before,” Atherton reminded huskily.
“I’m not leaving. I’ll continue to pound on your door until you open it.”
Michael thought he heard a groan. Finally the door opened. Michael pushed through,
shoulder to the wooden barrier as Atherton stumbled back. Michael couldn’t ignore the man’s
nakedness. Was he one of those men who periodically drowned their sorrows in copious amounts
of alcohol? Michael didn’t think so. The room didn’t smell of it, nor could he see any evidence
of spirits either out on a table, nor on Atherton’s breath.
Michael closed the door behind him and with a quick flick of his wrist, he locked the
door, removed the key, and stormed to the window where he tossed it out.
Atherton ran to the window, pushing Michael out of the way. “Why did you do that?”
“I won’t allow you to refuse seeing me. There are things we need to discuss.” Michael
folded his arms across his chest.
“You don’t understand. You must leave. Immediately.”
Atherton hurried to his bed and climbed under the sheets. He covered his head.
“You’re not a child, Atherton. Must you behave as one?”
Atherton groaned long and low. “It’s too late.”
Michael sighed in exasperation. He moved to the bed, took hold of the covers, and tried
to pull them off the other man. “This is ridiculous. Come out of there.”
His hand froze and the low growl coming from under the sheets. “Is your pet under there
with you?”
He hadn’t seen anything on the bed before. But he studied that human shaped rumple and
shook his head. Just as he thought. They were alone.
“So you’ve resorted to growling at me when petulance doesn’t produce the desired
response?” Michael queried.
“You must leave through the hidden door.” His voice sounded rough and guttural.
“Are you ill? I could call for Cook to fix a tisane.”
The bed began to tremble. How was it possible? The enormous wooden posts and wide
mattress seemed to shiver before his eyes. Michael yanked back the sheets. Atherton curled
naked on his side in convulsions.
“You’re very ill.”
Atherton’s state warranted alarm. Michael pressed a hand to Atherton’s feverish brow.
Sweat drenched his naked body. Michael quickly went toward the wash basin and pitcher,
liberally soaking a small towel and bringing the bowl to the bed side.
The man he found there seemed oddly changed. As though he’d bent his knees
unnaturally forward, his elbow having the same odd characteristics. It had to be a trick of the
light. His gaze traveled up Atherton’s bare body.
“Mistake to stay,” Atherton snarled, the words nearly unintelligible.
With shaking hands, Michael wrung out the towel and wiped Atherton’s brow. He
wouldn’t allow Atherton to dictate what was a mistake and what wasn’t. Michael decided his
actions alone. If Atherton couldn’t understand that he, as a grown man, could make decisions for
himself, then he has a lot to learn about human nature.
Atherton’s back had hair?
Michael blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and failed. He shook his
head, some part of him believing that he daydreamed yet the image before him didn’t change. Or
rather, it did change but not in the manner Michael expected.
He took a step back. Atherton rolled, his face appearing oddly deformed with sharp full
cheekbones too pronounced for his handsome face. His brow had hardened and his eyes sunk
deeper into their sockets, glowing golden at him. Atherton snarled, his teeth long and filling his
mouth.
Michael dropped the towel, backing away from the bed in horror. The air had the same
thick predatory quality he’d noticed the night they were together. Atherton cried out, arching
wildly as his back snapped and his shoulders spontaneously dislocated from their sockets.
Michael yelled and ran for the door, only to remember he’d thrown away the key.
Staying had been unwise.
Michael switched tactics and raced for the hidden door. Unfortunately, it was a hidden
door for a reason, and he couldn’t find the latch to open it. He spun around, pressing his back to
the wooden detailing. Hard corners poked at his shoulder blades, and the cool surface grounded
him momentarily.
“Atherton. The latch. Where is it?”
But as his eyes fell on Atherton, he realized it was far too late to get answers. The large
gray wolf rose up on wobbling forelegs his head hanging low and warily.
“Dear God,” Michael whispered. “It’s impossible. It can’t be possible.”
The wolf whimpered and sank back down. He kept his golden eyes riveted to Michael.
Michael’s knees felt weak. They gave out, and he slid to the floor, each carved portion of the
wainscoting scraping his back through superfine.
Sitting on hardwood was not the preferred way in dealing with a wolf, he supposed.
However, standing was beyond him at the moment. Every muscle in his body strained as he held
himself utterly rigid. He tried to slow his breathing so as not to incite the wolf with his fear.
“Atherton?” Michael asked, voice unsteady.
The wolf lifted its head and whined.
“You won’t eat me?”
The wolf gave a deep sigh and looked away.
“This is the reason you hide away for three days each month, isn’t it?”
The wolf looked at him and yawned. Atherton rose slowly and leaped to the ground.
Michael put up a hand urgently. “Stay. Don’t come closer.”
Atherton cocked his head and crept forward anyway.
“I won’t be responsible if you receive a crack to the head. I’m warning you to stay where
you are.”
Atherton sat on his hind legs four feet from Michael. He seemed to be waiting.
“Do you understand me? Can you understand me?”
Atherton walked closer, cautiously approaching, and licked the tip of Michael’s
outstretched finger. Michael yelped and recoiled, clutching his hand to his chest.
“Don’t eat me!”
The wolf harrumphed, maneuvered between Michael’s feet, and dropped its massive head
on Michael’s knee. He looked at Michael balefully.
“It was you in the study with Mr. Leedy.” Michael’s mind raced. “And when I came a
day early, you stumbled drunkenly in the hall immediately after I spied the wolf at the top of the
stairs. That was you as well.”
Atherton whined.
“The coat of arms, with the gray wolf.” Michael swallowed with difficulty. He wasn’t
sure he could voice his thoughts without seeming completely for Bedlam. Yet there was no other
ready explanation for the wolf on a coat of arms that had been in the family for generations.
“Your transformation is a family trait?”
Atherton whined, excitedly stepped up and licked the underside of Michael’s jaw.
“That’s enough of that. I may have seen you with my own eyes, but I’m not—not
prepared for this.”
Atherton backed off, resuming his earlier position with his head on Michael’s knee. His
beautiful golden eyes watched him intently. His massive jaw parted as be panted softly.
“You’re quite terrifying.”
A subdued yip met his observation.
“Can you change at will? I’d prefer to speak with the man.”
When the animal didn’t change positions or move other than to run a tongue over one
impressive canine, Michael assumed he couldn’t.
“Right, then. This would explain the howl the night we were intimate, and the change in
your eye color from yellow to silver.”
Michael cautiously rubbed Atherton’s head. Atherton’s tail swept the floor behind him
and Michael curled his fingers into the fur to give him a good scratching. It was a moment out of
time, when all that made sense ceased to do so. Yet it felt completely natural to try to bring the
wolf some pleasure. Any feeling of threat Michael had, disappeared.
He didn’t know what to make of his relationship with Atherton, but it would require far
more thought than these few minutes. The transformation had left him shaken, although he was
quite proud of the way he handled himself.
The wolf hunkered low, curling in on itself as its muscles twitched rapidly. Atherton
whined and yelped in sounds of pain. Michael jerked his hand away, helplessly watching as wolf
began its shift to man.
It was fascinating and horrible. At first the muzzle shortening into a hairless canine face
held his attention, but the sound of flesh tearing, bone cracking, Atherton’s wheezing breaths
forced him to look away. Michael cowered, hearing the painful alterations and wincing as each
one inflicted itself upon Atherton’s body.
Finally, Atherton sprawled at Michael’s feet, barely hanging on to consciousness.
Michael got up, lifted Atherton to his feet and led him to the bed.
“Tell me how to open the secret door. I have to retrieve your key and bring you food.”
“The floorboard. There.” Atherton pointed unevenly at a slight protrusion low on the
wall.
Michael nodded abruptly, storing away his thoughts for another time when he could pull
them out and think more clearly on what he’d just witnessed.
“Do the servants know?”
Atherton nodded wearily.
“Tomorrow I’ll have food sent up and ask the housekeeper to change the linens tonight.
Two days from now, I’ll make sure you have a bath drawn and I’ll meet you for the supper
hour.”
“Thank you,” Atherton rasped.
Michael headed for the secret door.
“Michael.”
He looked back at the ghost of a man lying naked on his white sheets. Even exhausted,
ill, and nearly crippled with his condition, his body still exuded power. Michael had loved that
body just nights ago. Would he have, if he’d known then what he knew now?
He couldn’t be sure.
“Will you come back?” Atherton asked.
Michael thought about it. Barely controlled fear still lurked under the surface. His skin
still crawled with the awareness that he was in the presence of a predator. Though that predator
was the mostly docile and apparently cognizant Atherton, Michael couldn’t understand all the
feelings raging through his body.
“I need time.”
Hope dimmed in Atherton’s eyes. “I understand.”
Michael kicked the trigger for the hidden door. It sung on silent hinges, opening up the
dark, cool interior of the house with a musty draft.
“Michael.”
He paused, listening.
“Don’t share with anyone what you’ve seen.”
“I won’t,” Michael whispered numbly. He stepped into the corridor, closing the room
behind him. His body relaxed. He took a deep breath. The calm he was looking for didn’t return.
Chapter Six
It had been five days, and Michael wouldn’t talk about what he’d seen. Atherton had
waited, expecting the questions to come at any moment, but they never did. It was as they were
walking through the garden that Atherton decided he didn’t wish to wait any longer.
Atherton stopped walking. Michael followed suit, but true to form these past days,
Michael didn’t look at him.
“You must have questions,” Atherton began.
“I do. Shall we tour the rose garden?”
“About me.”
“I’m not paid to have questions, my lord.”
“Then ask as my friend.”
Michael swung his head around, his eyes full and troubled.
“Ask anything. Please.” Not long ago, Atherton would have pleaded to be left in peace.
Each day Michael avoided the obvious discussion made Atherton just a bit more unnerved by the
silence. He hadn’t stopped to wonder why that would be.
Michael clasped his hands behind his back. He considered Atherton openly. “Perhaps a
tour of the pond then.” He walked in the direction of the tall hedges which would open up to
reveal the man-made landscape feature.
Atherton jogged to catch up. He caught Michael’s arm and turned him around. “If not as
your companion, then as your employer. Tell me your concerns.”
“I think the weather will turn tomorrow, and I’m concerned that we’ll not complete our
rounds of the garden before that happens.”
“I can turn at will.”
Michael’s eyes widened, their bright blue depths mirroring the vast bright sky above
them.
“You wondered about it on the second day of my change. I can turn at will on any day
but those three. During the tri-fold days of the moons full phase, I have very little control. The
least control on the day of the true full moon.”
Michael’s brow furrowed. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”
“It hurts. Quite a bit, actually,” Atherton continued, as though Michael hadn’t spoken.
“I’m not sure how to teach a wolf comportment in the fine parlors of London. I’m fairly
certain the arrangement of silver and seating location wouldn’t matter.”
Michael began walking again.
“That’s why I need those three days every month. Only the few trusted servants I have
know of this. Their families have served mine for as long as we have record. They are fiercely
loyal, and we treat them well.”
“Look, I believe I see a sparrow on that branch.”
“It’s a curse,” Atherton continued. He wanted Michael to know everything. He needed
Michael to understand. Whatever it took, full confession, anything. Michael’s opinion—dear
God, it mattered.
“I didn’t think I’d see one this time of year. How odd.”
“Michael,” Atherton said, exasperated.
“It’s just up ahead. Come along. We need to prepare you for the inevitability of being
alone with a woman of breeding. There’s a way to do it such that you aren’t found or
compromised.”
“Is there a way to be alone with a man of breeding?” Atherton bit back.
Michael lifted his brows in surprise. “Why yes, you’re doing that as we speak. See?” He
smiled. “Not a whiff of scandal in it.”
“Unless I kiss you.” Atherton stepped forward.
Michael’s lips formed a grim line as he pushed his hand on Atherton’s chest. “You won’t
because I don’t want to be kissed by you.”
Atherton felt like he’d taken a strike to the belly. He swallowed the bitter bile at the back
of his tongue. “Because of what I am,” he assumed aloud.
Michael met his gaze steadily. He didn’t deny it. He lowered his hand, caught it behind
his back again, then moved on.
“Michael.”
“You’re getting married,” Michael snapped gruffly. His eyes flashed at Atherton when he
shot a look his direction. “To a woman. Not a man. Not an animal, thank God. Not to anyone
else but a woman. You’ve hired me to accomplish that end.”
“I must. To break the curse, I must,” Atherton told him. Did he dare hope that Michael’s
anger meant he wanted Atherton to himself? “I must marry and conceive an heir before my
thirty-third birthday, or I’ll never fully be human. I’ll always remain as you see me today.”
Michael snorted humorlessly. “Unless there’s a full moon about.”
“You see why I must find a wife.”
“Right. Ten paces. There’s the opening in the shrubbery. I’m sure the lilies are still
clogging the edges.” Michael smiled falsely bright.
“You are a walking megrim.”
“You aren’t paying attention to your lessons. You’ve less than a month before the ball and
I believe you’ve arranged for a fitting in town next week. That’s two full days and another three
just before you leave, in which I won’t be permitted to tutor you.”
“Have you considered that marriage doesn’t mean we can’t be together?” Atherton
pushed. He probably shouldn’t have. He had the sense he’d pushed too far already, yet he wanted
Michael to know that Atherton wasn’t finished with him. That he wanted Michael after vows
were said. Hell, he wanted Michael during, as well.
“Doesn’t it? You’d cuckold your wife? You aren’t the man I thought you were.”
“For you, Michael. I’d route my entire household and burn it to the ground if you asked
it.”
Michael paused. He lifted his chin and looked into Atherton’s eyes. Michael seemed so
sad, bruised if one could judge by an expression. “I’d never ask it, and you should never offer.
Your future wife doesn’t deserve the heartbreak of sharing you with anyone else.”
Michael turned away.
“I wouldn’t share you,” he whispered.
Atherton wouldn’t have caught the words if his hearing had not been so acute. But he
hadn’t intended Atherton to hear.
“Can I not have you in any capacity?” Atherton asked.
Michael ducked his head. A resigned sigh escaped him. “No. Even if you embraced
bachelorhood, I couldn’t accept what you are.”
“I understand,” Atherton said. His chest ached. He flexed his fingers, grasping at nothing
but the air at his sides.
“Doubtful.”
* * * *
Michael lifted his soup spoon, barely noticing the warmth of the liquid as it slid down his
throat. Standing in the garden a week ago, he didn’t know if he told the truth. He’d barely
grasped the life Atherton must have led and the reality of seeing man become wolf. Could
Atherton have really expected him to know his mind when he announced that a curse was
involved?
He’d seen the pain changing forms gave Atherton. He couldn’t ask Atherton to suffer
several times a month for the rest of his life if marrying a woman and producing an heir could
cure him. Putting the decision in his hands, however generous of Atherton, wasn’t fair.
He couldn’t ask it of Atherton. He wouldn’t allow Atherton to forego a normal life to
spend it with Michael. And he’d meant what he’d said about not having a relationship if
Atherton married. The world was made up of bad marital choices, that didn’t give Atherton the
permission to hurt his young bride. Truthfully, he didn’t expect Atherton to do that either. If it
came to a decision, Michael knew he could count on Atherton’s integrity to choose his wife.
Atherton only needed to come to terms with his selection.
He would. Michael counted on it from everything he’d seen of the man. Atherton, with
the exception of his curse, was an honest man. If Michael faltered and begged Atherton to take
him as a side relationship, it would only be a matter of time before Atherton sent Michael on his
way. If that happened, Michael would be dealt a crushing blow.
“Michael, you’ve already finished your soup. There’s nothing in your spoon.” Atherton’s
tone was teasing.
Michael held his spoon out speculatively. “I suppose I have.” He carefully laid it down.
“It’s proper etiquette to put it in your bowl for easier removal,” Atherton corrected
smugly.
Michael tried to laugh, but he didn’t feel lighthearted. “Who’s teaching whom?”
The question hung there. Cook brought the next course and removed the soup bowls.
“The clothing I ordered will be ready for you at the tailor tomorrow,” Michael said
instead.
“Would you attend me? To pick out accessories for the new wardrobe?” Atherton asked.
Michael looked him over. “With the exception of the beard and hair, you appoint yourself
in fine form. You don’t need me.”
Atherton put down his wine glass. He leaned forward. “I do need you,” he insisted.
Michael’s cheeks heated. He busied himself with the small roasted bird centered on his
plate.
“Will you at least help me groom for the season?” Atherton requested.
Michael nodded. “You’ll either need to find a barber in London, or pay special attention
when I trim your whiskers.”
“You’ll come with me.”
“No, I won’t. My duties end the moment you take the carriage into London.”
Atherton lifted his wine glass, holding it up before he sipped. “Then I won’t leave for the
ball until the evening before.”
“You have to. There are things to prepare and invitations to acquire.”
“I’ll acquire them after my appearance at the ball,” Atherton insisted.
Michael sawed at the bird, beginning to lose patience. “You’ll need to unpack your things
and set your household to rights.”
“My townhouse has been opened and a staff is cleaning it as we speak.”
That caught Michael’s attention. “You have other staff? What of your—condition?”
“They’re family of the current household and while they don’t know of my condition, as
you put it, they won’t need to. I’ll be out of London before the next full moon cycle.”
That surprised Michael. “You’re so confident that an offer of marriage will be so easily
acquired?”
“When isn’t a grasping mama eager to wed off her daughter to a titled lord?”
“Point taken.”
“I’m only sorry that you’re not an option for me. I suspect your father would have been
pleased to marry off one of his to me, in other circumstances.”
Michael chewed slowly. The meat was succulent, however all flavor had been lost from
the beginning of the meal. “He might well have been.”
Another question came to mind. One that hadn’t been discussed until now, but that bore
asking.
“Your staff is aware of your condition and they keep your secret. You trust them utterly?”
“I do,” Atherton agreed. He nudged a potato wedge onto his fork and delicately ate it.
Michael glanced around to make sure they were alone. “What of your other traits?”
“By which you mean?”
“Sodomy.”
Atherton coughed, lifting his napkin as he continued to cough unexpectedly. “Pardon
me,” he choked. He poured another glass of wine and gulped it down.
“Do they know?” Michael continued, having no real concern for Atherton’s coughing fit.
“No.”
“They might not be surprised if they listen half as well as most servants.”
Atherton smiled slowly, knowingly. “You certainly weren’t quiet.”
“Me? I meant you with your howling at the unseen moon in your bedroom.”
“I don’t howl,” Atherton scoffed.
“You do, and bravely. As though a pack were awaiting your word many miles off.”
Atherton laughed. “I see you’ve adjusted to the news well.”
“I’ve adjusted the knowledge of what happens. Watching, seeing, that’s entirely
different.”
“Why so?”
“It looked torturous,” Michael murmured after a moment.
Cook came in and cleared the plates. Michael rose first, followed by Atherton.
“Will you take a drink with me in the study?” Atherton asked.
“Well done. That’s exactly what you need to offer when you have guests over.” Michael
stepped over to the door Cook disappeared through and asked her to bring a kettle of hot water to
his lordship’s chambers.
Atherton frowned. “I meant that in all seriousness. Would you care to drink with me?”
He’d known that was Atherton’s intention. He’d deliberately played it off as an exercise
in proper host comportment. Truthfully, Atherton had little to improve on. Other than updating
some of his conversational topics, and breaking habits brought on by a life of solitude, Atherton
carried himself impressively. He’d be a success in London, of that Michael had no doubt.
He’d certainly become a success in Michael’s eyes, and that’s where the problem lie.
Michael couldn’t see him as anything other than a pupil, no matter how he wanted to spend their
remaining days sipping wine before a fire, or wrapped naked in each other’s embrace.
Just the thought of it made his body hot and cold with desire. He wanted Atherton. The
wolf merely presented an excuse that Atherton seemed to believe, but sometimes he wondered if
Atherton knew the truth and stayed away out of respect for Michael’s wishes.
“I think not, my lord. We should see to your grooming and end the evening early. You’ll
have errands to run tomorrow which may be more taxing on your stamina than you might
imagine. My sisters exhausted me and all that was required of me was holding doors and ribbons
while they dropped coin with each merchant.”
“I don’t lack stamina,” Atherton said softly.
“Still, an early evening is necessary. Come.” Michael avoided his gaze as he led the way
to Atherton’s bedroom. The closer he got, the less wise he suspected the decision. He should
have suggested they trim his beard in the library, or the salon, or any number of places that
weren’t where the two of them had writhed in naked ecstasy.
“Your breaches fit you well if only your coat wouldn’t cover it from viewing,” Atherton
mused behind him.
Fingers brushed down the curve of Michael’s ass, then up between the muscled globes.
Michael’s cock took interest, filling despite his internal monologue that he wouldn’t react in any
way.
He reached the top stair, waiting for Atherton to precede him. Atherton chuckled, but
moved passed. Michael sucked in a breath as those same wayward fingers tracked over
Michael’s erect shaft.
“Have a care, my lord. Any more of this and you’ll have to wait for your grooming lesson
when you return from the fitting,” Michael bit out.
“Very well, young Hastings. Show me how to trim.”
Michael kept conversation to a minimum as he set up a stool, a sheet and a bowl of cool
water to temper that of the kettle when the housekeeper brought it up several minutes later. He
set the near table with scissors, soap, and a razor. After she left, he tied the sheet around
Atherton’s neck. “I suggest you don’t surprise me with any inappropriate caresses.”
“Mm.”
As noncommittal as ever, Michael supposed. He lathered Atherton’s face and tipped his
head back against Michael’s chest. He dipped the sharpened razor, tapped it on the edge of the
basin, and carefully dragged it up Atherton’s neck while he gently held Atherton’s chin.
Atherton hummed contentedly.
Several minutes passed in the scrape, dip, tap of personal grooming, before Michael
finished his work and cleaned the soap residue from his lordship’s face. Next he combed through
the snarled mass of blond hair.
“This would be easier to tame if you kept it shorter.”
“I don’t like shorter,” Atherton groused. He winced as a knot captured several tines.
“Then keep it long, but comb it and cue it every evening and every morning. You’ll need
to do the same before any appointment or social gathering. You’ll be expected to keep clean and
tidy at every interval.”
“Sounds tedious.”
Michael smiled. “You would think so.”
“Don’t you?”
Michael shrugged. “I’ll trim it.”
“It won’t matter. The infernal hair grows every month.”
Michael laughed easily. “It does for most people, my lord. You aren’t exempt.”
“I mean on the full moon. I can’t keep my beard trimmed, and I grow several inches to
my cue which always makes it knot.”
He moved around Atherton to comb his forelocks, needing to stand between the man’s
thighs as he removed the snarls.
“Then I suppose you’d better be prepared to shave very frequently during those times,
and to keep a pair of scissors available. But don’t concern yourself overly. You’ll be right as rain
once you have a wife and an heir.”
Atherton caught Michael’s wrist so tightly the blood pounded in Michael’s fingers and he
dropped the comb. Atherton easily held Michael’s other wrist and swept his thigh inward,
effectively toppling Michael onto Atherton’s lap.
“That’s more the thing,” Atherton murmured.
The feel of his lordship’s muscled thigh lining Michael’s ass unnerved him with desire.
He wanted to feel Atherton’s body against his again. It had been too long already. Yet they were
destined to be torn apart. Giving in to lust now would only make parting more difficult later.
“You must release me to continue cutting your hair.”
“What I must do is kiss you soundly, Michael.”
“No. You absolutely mustn’t do that,” he replied, cursing the huskiness in his voice.
Atherton wouldn’t miss the hungry drop in pitch.
Atherton’s gaze dropped to Michael’s lips. As he’d suspected, Atherton missed nothing
about his effect on him.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” Atherton insisted.
“I don’t want you.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Michael’s mouth had gone bone dry. Silver eyes had taken on a golden cast, something
Michael had come to recognize meant Atherton was inclined to follow his passion. It warned
Michael that he’d better strengthen his resolve before Atherton convinced him to give in.
There’d be no giving in this time. He couldn’t, knowing that he’d forfeit his lord to the siren call
of a woman’s womb.
A lump formed in Michael’s throat. To find a male lover willing to risk loving was rare
enough. Finding a man who embodied the essence of who Michael wanted to spend his life with,
and knowing it could never happen, ripped at his heart. Yet he couldn’t let Atherton know it.
He’d be torn between Michael and the resolution of his family curse.
“You should try to believe it, my lord. I don’t want you now or after you wed.”
“Then why is your face flushed and your eyes dilated? Why can I smell the elevated scent
of your arousal? If you don’t want me, why is your body eager?”
Michael tried to blank his face of expression. “Because you’re willing. Fortunately I’m
governed by common sense.”
“My cock is hard for you. Say the word and I’ll take you to my bed and love you for as
long as you’ll let me,” Atherton countered.
“Ah, but is it love or is it your feral lust speaking?” Michael smiled at his clever play on
words. Redefining love and loving helped him distance himself from the actual promise Atherton
made.
“Michael,” Atherton grew serious. His fingers loosened on Michael’s wrists but didn’t let
him go completely. “You already possess the one.”
“Lust.”
“Love.”
“You can’t love me, my lord. Haven’t you heard? A man cannot truly be in love with
another man. I believe that was the most recent ruling for sodomy.”
“Bollocks! You’re playing word games with me. You know I love you.”
“Do I?” Michael asked, feeling the dull ache in his chest begin anew.
“I trust you with my life every time I look into your eyes and see the man I’d prefer to be
with.”
“You’ve never said as much until now.” God, Michael was not a crier. He blinked back
the moisture that collected at the corners.
He’d been frustrated before when he wanted Atherton and knew he’d eventually marry a
woman. Now he felt frustrated and powerless and prepared to yell at the unfairness of finding a
man he not only wanted, but who wanted him in return, who he was still not permitted to have.
“In so many words? No, I haven’t. Before I ever laid you in my bed, I told you how I felt.
How I wanted you. How I never wanted to be away from you.”
“I thought that was your lust speaking.”
“Partly, it was. I’ve never confessed my feelings for another man. You’re different. You
have been from the moment you bargained your terms in my study. I smelled fear on you then,
yet you kept your ground, and I knew I’d found a common bond in you. I smelled fear in you
again when you picked me off the floor in the hallway naked, and you directed Mr. Leedy about
his business.”
“That’s not love,” Michael argued. “Love is giving up everything for the other person.”
“Do you love me?” Atherton asked softly.
Michael glanced away. He didn’t want Atherton to see how much he meant to Michael.
He didn’t want Atherton to know what giving him up would cost Michael when their final weeks
were over and Atherton left for London without him.
“Do you love me?” Atherton asked again, emphasizing the word love.
“Don’t ask me that. I can’t tell you.”
“You tell me that I couldn’t know in those early days that I loved you. I agree that I
couldn’t have formulated that precise a thought on what I was feeling, nor would I have
concluded it, out of sheer stubbornness. That doesn’t make it any less true.
“It means that those two moments were the moments I knew you were special. They
opened the door for feelings to develop later on as we grew to know one another.”
Michael chuckled. “Silver dinner service, dancing, and practiced small talk don’t bring
you closer to loving someone.”
“Ah, but you expect that the same small niceties will be what secure me a loving wife.
Interesting.”
“No,” Michael countered. “They put you in the company of marriageable women. Love
has very little to do with it.”
“And yet that’s exactly how one becomes acquainted—small talk, chatter, dances, walks
on the grounds and arguments between the identification of flying creatures.”
A laugh escaped Michael. “Touché.”
“Do you love me?” Atherton asked a third time. His voice dropped low, as though the
doubtful whisper was any less intimidating to answer.
Was it so bad to tell him the truth? If Atherton carried the knowledge into his marriage
and through his old age, was it so bad to have told him? Would it wound Atherton or Michael
more to have left it unsaid? Was Michael being selfish, holding that information in his heart, by
keeping it away from the man he loved?
Michael took a breath and tried to still the fluttering nerves in his belly. “I do,” he
admitted. He lifted his gaze to Atherton’s, wondering what he’d see there.
“What are you giving up?” Atherton asked softly, reminding Michael of the claim he’d
made earlier about what true love was.
“You need to ask?” Michael didn’t try to hide the emotion in his eyes.
Sadness furrowed Atherton’s brow. “I must know.”
“You. I’m giving up you.”
Chapter Seven
Atherton felt like he was drowning in a sea of blue sorrow. Michael couldn’t know what
effect his words had on him, the pain and joy they caused. He tugged Michael to his chest,
released his wrists, and cupped his precious face. Tenderly, not wanting to push away Michael’s
words with a rash act, but rather bless them with adequate recognition, Atherton brushed his lips
across Michael’s. They were as smooth and soft as he remembered.
Atherton moaned as Michael’s lips parted. The barest moisture slicked his efforts, and the
kiss took on the gentle heat of light friction. Atherton couldn’t imagine a better gift than this man
admitting his love. He couldn’t have hoped for such a generous lover.
“I love you, Michael,” he said as he broke the kiss. “Somewhere amidst the proper
placement of linens and the perfect tailoring of my coats, you took hold of my heart.”
“And I’ll lose it just as easily.”
“You’ll never lose it,” Atherton insisted sharply.
“I may never lose it, but I can be sure never to possess it.”
The unknown wife loomed in both their minds. Atherton didn’t want her here. Not yet.
Not now when he finally had Michael to himself, no pretenses to keep them apart. He just
wanted Michael. Here. Now. However long they had together.
“Don’t be sweet to me,” Michael told him. “Don’t be gentle. Strap me to your bed and
have your way with me, but make it hurt as much as I already hurt inside.”
“I won’t.”
“Please,” Michael made a strange gulping noise, a gasped breath. “Please don’t allow me
time to think of what the next two weeks will bring. I can’t cope with what I’m feeling and know
I’ve no recourse.”
He pressed his lips to Michael’s again, understanding. Michael didn’t want to think or
dwell, he wanted to act and react. Atherton would give him that. He delved deep into Michael’s
mouth, tasting and demanding the return kiss until they were both breathless. Suddenly, Atherton
parted his legs, allowing Michael to slide through.
Atherton pulled back enough to speak. He looked at Michael’s waiting expression. “Suck
my cock, Hastings.”
Relief seemed to wash away Michael’s anxiety. “Yes, my lord.”
Atherton closed his eyes and let his head fall back on his shoulders. Michael tugged at
Atherton’s pants, finally freeing his naked cock.
“Take it deep, Hastings. I’m going to fuck your mouth until you gag with my spill. And
when you’re done, I expect you to strip, finish cutting my hair, and offer no complaints as to
whatever I do to your tight, needy body.”
“Yes, my lord.” Michael agreed breathlessly.
Michael’s heart swelled. He needed to be given the task. He needed it rough and harsh to
mirror the desperation he felt. Being directed the way Atherton directed him, let him let go of his
fears and love Atherton with every frustrated fiber of his being. He’d make Atherton come, he’d
let Atherton make him come. They’d be sated and emotionally purged when it finished, and then
Michael could bury the pain.
Somewhat.
Until the next time he needed Atherton.
Michael grasped Atherton’s cock in his hand, loving the way the thick flesh filled his
hand. His fingers barely touched. He dragged the moist tip over his lips, coating them with the
translucent liquid like a balm.
Atherton groaned and clutched Michael’s hair. “I told you to suck it, not play with it,
Hastings.”
Michael opened his mouth, savoring the tip, swirling his tongue around the end of
Atherton’s heated rod. Atherton hissed and pulled Michael further down his shaft until Michael’s
lips hit the side of his fisted hand. Then he began to pump.
For a few moments Atherton accepted the partial suck and swallow, but he soon pried
Michael’s fingers off his cock and parted his legs as far as he could, within the confines of his
breaches.
Michael paused to take them off and remove Atherton’s boots, leaving his lover bare
from waist down. When Atherton opened his body again, Michael marveled at the perfect view
of thick ropey thighs, firm clenched crescents of visible ass, and demanding cock, lifted and
rosy. The veined underside beckoned him.
Michael dragged the flat of his tongue down and up, taking Atherton back into his mouth.
Atherton bucked, his hands linked behind Michael’s head as he sunk himself deep into Michael’s
willing throat. Michael gagged, but Atherton held himself there, deep, unmoving. Finally he
pulled out, allowing Michael to catch his breath on several smaller, sucking takes of his head.
Atherton’s fingers tightened, and Michael knew he’d be swallowing again. Excitement
tickled over his body like he was a child at Christmas, almost incapable of standing the delicious
tension. Yes, he wanted this. Atherton bucked, simultaneously holding Michael down. Springy
brown curls surrounded his nose. Cock rammed down his throat, blocking his airway a second
time. Michael’s eyes watered, but he liked this possession. He reached under Atherton,
massaging his ass cheeks to let him know how much he enjoyed the demand.
“Take it. Swallow, Hastings,” Atherton rasped.
Michael did as he was told, swallowing around the thick intrusion. He felt lightheaded
and Atherton pulled out, fucking gently just passed Michael’s ringed lips.
“That’s it. Well done,” Atherton praised.
Michael whimpered. His cock ached and his balls were tightly drawn. He wanted
Atherton to shoot down his throat so badly and the slick spurts of pre-orgasm only taunted him
with the pleasure that could be. Michael hummed, gripped Atherton’s ass and took his length
again.
It surprised Atherton, if his tense grunt meant anything. Michael suckled and swallowed
for all he was worth. He reached lower, pressing his thumb to the small crinkled opening beneath
Atherton’s balls. Atherton shouted, bucking hard even though Michael’s nose was already
planted into the curls at the base of his lover’s shaft. Hot cum seared down his throat. Michael
withheld the gag and though his eyes watered and his body screamed for air, he couldn’t make
himself let go until every last ejaculation left Atherton.
Only then did Michael slide off, drinking him clean as Atherton stroked his hair and
murmuring unintelligible words of tenderness.
Michael looked up at him from his knees.
“Are you alright?” Atherton asked, concern in his eyes.
Michael nodded, tears in his eyes. Not because of the force of lovemaking, but because
he’d expected some of the frustration for his need of Atherton to deplete. The opposite occurred.
He nearly shook with the need to keep him. What would he do when his lord climbed in his
carriage, bound for London and ladies? How would he ever forget this?
Atherton seemed to look passed the nod, and see that not all was right despite Michael’s
claim. He urged him to his feet. “You need more,” he interpreted rightly.
Michael could neither argue nor agree. There existed penalties either way, and he had yet
to bring himself to the point where he could willingly refuse Atherton.
“Take your clothes off, Michael. Go to the bed. Lie on your stomach with your hands
folded above your head.”
Michael moved quickly to the bed, doing as he was told. He needed whatever Atherton
would give him. He wanted it fiercely.
He felt weak in the face of Atherton’s passion. It was as though Michael had survived a
lifetime of darkness and was only now standing in the sunlight. How could he relinquish such a
gift? How could he refuse it until Atherton walked out of his life forever?
He couldn’t. He could only store up the memories now and pray they didn’t overshadow
his future without the lord. Yet he already knew they would. There’d never be another like his
Lord Atherton. No one could draw from him the intensity that his lord did. No one would touch
him body and soul. Michael didn’t fool himself. He might have his lordship now, he might be his
lordship’s current desire, but in a few weeks the necessity to end his curse would tear them apart.
Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t fair. Atherton had been nothing but true to him
from the start. He’d gone so far as to offer him a relationship affair apart from the marriage. The
compromise of morals should have told him how much Atherton wanted to keep what they had.
And it did, however sordid an affair it would be.
Michael found himself considering it. Keep Atherton, even part of him, and share him, or
lose Atherton completely and try to move on from their interlude ?
Michael rose up on his knees, trying to make himself as appealing as possible. He
dropped his forehead against his arms and waited. The scarf box clacked shut. Anticipation
crawled under his skin.
“Very pretty view, Hastings.”
Atherton tied two scarves around Michael’s joined hands, cinching them at the wrists so
that they were kept together. He tied the end of each scarf to the far posts. Then, tying a scarf at
each knee, he tied those to the head post as well. Michael was forced into his kneeling position
now, and spread wide.
“I’ve never seen such long scarves,” Michael mused aloud.
“They’re specific for my needs.” Atherton slapped Michael’s ass sharply.
Michael yelped, but his balls jiggled pleasurably, and he found himself confused as to
whether or not he liked the strike.
“Was that a complaint?” Atherton asked. Atherton swatted Michael’s other cheek
soundly.
Michael gasped. His flesh stung at first, then burned. The heat sunk into his muscles and
he waited for Atherton to strike him again.
Hot breath touched Michael’s parted flesh. Michael shivered. Hot and wet, something
traced the crevice toward his hole. Dear God in heaven, would Atherton lick him there? He
couldn’t imagine the forbidden delight of such a kiss. Then it happened. Atherton’s descent took
him to the puckered opening where his tongue danced and prodded. Michael moaned, trying to
arch his hips into the movements.
Atherton’s magical tongue disappeared and Michael felt the hard double slap to his ass.
“When I tell you to flex, you may flex. For now, take what you’re given. Don’t be
greedy.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Sharp teeth nipped Michael’s flank. Michael could barely contain his pleasure. His body
trembled, needing more, wanting more, wanting Atherton to use him. When would the need be
filled?
The tongue returned, along with soft fingering strokes to the underside of his balls. When
Atherton finally moved away, something cold and hard circled his hole.
“What is that,” Michael gasped. Hot to cold, the sensations were stunningly sensual.
“A marble phallus for the anus.”
He brought it around for Michael to see. The slim conical piece with a rounded tip was
lovely. It was less a phallus and more a funnel shaped solid object with a carved ring on the end.
“I found it on my European tour. My finger goes through the marble aperture to keep it
from being lost within you. Do you like it?” Atherton asked.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Good.” Atherton removed it from sight. He struck Michael’s ass several times until
Michael cried in whimpering protest. The cold marble touched his hole again and this time
Michael couldn’t keep from pushing back into it, no matter what erotic punishment Atherton
planned to bestow on him.
Atherton reached around and pinched Michael’s nipple, twisting it hard as the tip of the
marble slid in and out of his hole. Even though it was smooth, there was no moisture easing its
passage and the slight friction sent new waves of pleasure over him.
The tip, still embedded, held, and Michael felt the heat of breath, then the wet play of
tongue where marble met man.
“Dear God, I’m like to pass out.”
Atherton pushed sharply, embedding the cone in Michael’s body. His hole eagerly sucked
it in, and there was only the warmth of Atherton’s finger across its entry and the wet flickering
tongue. Michael’s balls drew tightly and his cock flexed hard. Cold and hard met soft and pliable
within him. It was terrifying and impossibly wonderful at the same instant. Atherton rubbed
Michael’s nipples roughly. Suddenly the tormenting fingers were gone and sharp slaps peppered
Michael’s ass, jiggling both his sac and the marble tool over something inside his passage that
welcomed the abuse.
The coil of pleasure was nearing fracture. Just a little more, a little more and he’d come.
He prayed Atherton allowed it, prayed he would keep smacking Michael’s ass, bouncing
Michael’s cock and balls with each painfully pleasurable hit.
“More, a bit more. Pray don’t stop,” Michael pleaded.
Atherton bit down on one cheek and rapidly struck the other while twisting the marble
tool. It took hold of Michael, sharper than any orgasm had before, acting for him as though he
were without sense of his own. Black swallowed his vision. He flexed hard shooting his essence
onto the bed covering in multiple fires and his body convulsed into orgasm.
His head dropped limply to his forearms again. Atherton stroked and kissed Michael’s
ass, soothing the fiery flesh he’d beaten into pleasure. Gently, the marble slid out of him, though
it seemed his body wished to retain it indefinitely. Atherton loosened the scarves at his knees,
allowing him to stretch out on his belly. Blessedly, Atherton crawled up beside him, half on and
half off of Michael’s body.
Atherton brushed the hair off Michael’s neck. He touched his lips to it softly, trailing
kisses to Michael’s cheek and the reachable corner of his lips when Michael turned his face
toward him.
“You’re perfect, Michael. You amaze me at every turn. How am I supposed to live
without you? How am I supposed to get a woman with child when all I want is in this bed with
me right now?”
Michael stared into his silvery golden gaze. He’d wondered the same things and had just
as few answers. “You have me while you can,” he replied. “You revel in what we share together
and remember it always, as I will.”
“I’d stay for you,” Atherton murmured.
“You’d be cursed forever. You can barely manage the change as you have it now. What
happens when you’re an old man, body broken with age and weakened by time? How will you
recover each time the moon pulls at you?” Michael asked.
Atherton’s gaze grew sad. “I don’t know. I’ve never questioned my destiny to marry and
give an heir. I’ve waited as long as possible, knowing my fate was sealed once the vows were
given, and I’d never be permitted to explore my true nature again.” He lifted his chin, his voice
turning wistful as he spoke. “I think I was waiting for you.”
Michael smiled. “Except that I lack the requisite parts to free you.”
“I’m free in other ways.”
“For now,” Michael reminded him.
“For now,” Atherton agreed.
He swept his broad hand up and down Michael’s back, caressing him, touching him
without fear. It was a kind of freedom Michael hadn’t had before. Dalliances, even long lasting
ones, were quickly dispatched, and he always reclothed before anyone could see.
At the Atherton estate, there was no one to see what they were to each other. They could
rest in their moments together, naked and accepting of the love they shared. No, there would
never be another moment with another man anywhere close to this.
“What’s it like being a wolf?” Michael asked.
“It’s a paradox. When I’m completely human, I hate the times when the wolf will come
to bear. When I’m a wolf, I love the strength and loathe the weakness of humanity.”
“What of the in between times?”
“Those times I’m torn between who I am and what I will be, I feel only the pain of
transformation, and the need to not be caught outside the gates when it occurs. But the running is
brilliant. There’s a beauty in running wild and racing the wind.”
“Do you eat?” Michael asked. “Is it like the tales of the wereman that ravage flocks?”
“No,” Atherton tugged Michael’s ear playfully. “You’ve seen me. I’m not half one and
half the other; I’m fully wolf at those times.” He sobered. “I do eat though. It’s disgusting, and I
can’t keep from doing it.”
“What do you eat?”
Atherton closed his eyes as though he could shut out the memories, or the question.
“Small animals mostly. It’s a wonder I don’t get sick. Apparently the constitution of the wolf is
very strong.”
Michael would have rolled to his side, snuggling into Atherton, but his wrists were still
tied. He settled for nudging a leg through Atherton’s. Atherton scooted closer, seeming to know
that Michael wanted to comfort him.
“You could untie me,” Michael suggested.
“I’m not through with you.”
Michael smiled. I’d hoped not. I want to feel you in me.”
“And I’ll be there. Then I’ll flip you over and taste you.”
Michael moaned through a chuckle. “You are devastating to me.”
“Not half as much as you are to me.”
His smile faltered as he thought of another question. “Atherton, how did your family
come to be cursed?”
Atherton shrugged. “It has always been. There’s never been a moment when our family
wasn’t cursed. There is no family story of an angry hag, no evil concoction swallowed, no
furious mage.”
“No solution other than marriage and an heir? How did you make the discovery?”
“An accidental discovery, I’m afraid. It’s as though the wolf needs to live on. When it
finds a way to continue, it leaves the man it was in.”
“You’d be infecting your heir with a curse,” Michael realized.
Atherton’s brow furrowed. “I suppose I would be.”
“So your infant would suffer the change?”
Atherton seemed to think on it for a moment. “I don’t recall the first moment of change
for me. I’ve always been this way.”
“Kiss me,” Michael whispered.
Atherton propped Michael’s cheek in his hand, supporting him as he took Michael’s
mouth. Soft and tender, so different than their lovemaking. So different than when Michael had
needed to be taken. It was a kissed apology, or rather a kiss expressing the true extent of their
relationship where the roughness was only play. The man came through in this kiss, sliding
across Michael’s lips like a whispered prayer, touching tongue tip to tongue tip, and tracing the
seams and recessing like the tentative lover Michael knew he was not.
Atherton retreated. “I want you, Michael. Are you ready?”
It was a request for permission. Michael nodded his agreement.
Atherton untied Michael’s wrists. “I wanted to take you as hard as I could, for you. I
know it’s what you need, but I need you. Will you let me worship you the way you deserve?”
“You’ll break my heart in the process.”
“I’ll mend my own. I feel selfish, Michael. I need to love you.”
Michael rolled to his side. He traced his thumb along Atherton’s cleanly shaved jaw, and
kissed his chin. “Then have me however you will, Atherton. I can hardly deny the lord of my
heart.”
Chapter Eight
Atherton rolled Michael to his stomach, using his knee to push Michael’s leg high to his
side. Atherton’s cock already raged for the man. It wept in mirror to the ache in his chest. He
knew that though he’d used the marble pleasure cone already, he hadn’t adequately prepared
Michael’s body. Still, he needed him and Michael was willing.
Atherton rocked his hips against the man’s ass, hoping to give some lubrication with his
weeping cock. He reached down, holding his shaft tip to the opening and pushed. Michael tensed
but seemed to be forcing his body to relax and take him.
Putting his hands on either side of Michael’s waist, Atherton levied himself up. He thrust
fully in, crying out as their bodies fused perfectly together. Atherton looked down at Michael’s
back, watched the bunch of his shoulder muscles, the arch of his neck and enjoyed the rounded
cushion of ass against his pelvis. Atherton flexed inside him and he made a sweet gasping sound.
Michael’s fists clenched the bed coverings. Atherton held still, giving the other man time to
accept his cock.
Michael’s brown hair spilled over his shoulders to the side. His eyes were tightly shut and
his lips parted on quick breaths. The tip of his pink tongue darted out to moisten the bottom one.
Atherton’s gaze fixed on the soft full flesh, remembering what those lips felt like wrapped
around his cock.
Unable to hold back longer, Atherton dragged out of Michael and pushed back in with
only the tip, pumping quickly three times before sinking in at an angle designed to strike the
most desirable spot inside Michael’s sheath. The soft hiss confirmed Atherton had hit his mark.
He targeted that place, moving in and out of Michael’s willing body, until Atherton
couldn’t pay attention to more than the rising tide of his own lust. He bucked hard, feeling the
bounce of Michael’s ass and the swing of his own balls patting lower. Hot body squeezed his
cock like a velvet glove, and Atherton lost his senses.
He rutted into Michael, no longer able to keep himself in check. He fucked for the sake of
fucking and imprinting his cock into the body’s memory. Michael was his, his alone. No man
who came after would claim him the way Atherton did.
The litany swirled through his mind. He closed his eyes, squeezing moisture out the
corners as he imagined Michael on his belly like this for other men, long after Atherton had
taken a bride. And damn him, he hated those unnamed men! He hated Michael for letting them
fuck him as Atherton did. He hated himself for letting Michael go, knowing that though it was all
yet in the future, it was still inevitable. Then hated fate for making him what he was.
He shouted, slamming into Michael’s body as Michael moaned and lifted hips to take yet
more abuse from him. The lift of Michael’s hips brought out dimples in his lower back and the
silent plea for Atherton’s seed was all it took to send him over the abyss into dark, howling
orgasm. He bucked, arched, held and emptied as his voice carried his need and longing to the
ceiling.
His muscles rebelled. They began shaking, and Atherton finally collapsed on top of
Michael.
“Please forgive me,” Atherton gasped.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Michael reached back, holding Atherton’s hips close.
“I used you.”
“You loved me. Your care was evident.” He looked over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have
minded if you had merely used me, Atherton. There’s no amount you can give that I wouldn’t
gladly welcome.”
Atherton pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I adore you.”
“I know.”
“Let me show you.” Atheron rose up, encouraging Michael to roll onto his back.
“You already have,” Michael answered laughingly.
Atherton loved his face, his openness, the willingness to try anything so long as it was the
two of them. “I want to pleasure you alone.”
Atherton was already moving over him. Who was Michael to refuse a man on a sexual
mission? “As always, I’m yours.”
The words earned him a hard, happy kiss. Several softer ones followed, dropping sweetly
across his shoulders and chest. Atherton lifted Michael’s arm and licked a line on either side of
the pit along the muscle before nuzzling the hairy center. He moved to Michael’s nipple,
capturing it between his teeth for a nip and a taste, then sucked it hard into his mouth.
Michael tossed his head. He wrapped his legs loosely around Atherton’s torso, but no so
tightly as to keep him from sinking lower as he continued to taste and tease every part of
Michael’s chest. He traced the slim line of sparse hair with his tongue, circled Michael’s navel
and hummed with pleasure as he faced Michael’s turgid cock.
“Magnificent.” Atherton brushed his fingertips up the side of Michael’s cock. “Perfectly
pale throughout, right to the slim, blunt end.”
Atherton placed a line of open kisses from end to base then dragged his tongue up the
underside. He dipped the tip into the tiny hole at the top and Michael quickly pulled pillows
under his head to watch Atherton’s clever mouth work. Atherton kept his gaze trained on
Michael’s. It thrilled Michael to watch Atherton watching him. Atherton’s movements became
something of a show as to how much he enjoyed tasting Michael’s cock. He couldn’t have found
a more appreciative audience, or subject.
When Atherton finally took Michael in his mouth, Michael almost forgot how to breathe.
Atherton’s hand pressed flat on Michael’s belly, sliding up to his chest as Atherton’s mouth took
him completely.
The golden-eyed gaze captured his. It entranced him almost as much as the sucking heat
on his cock. Atherton’s palm over his heart only reminded Michael how connected they were,
how much Atherton was aware of what he was doing to Michael.
Michael reached for him, stroked his hair, his face, his hollowed cheeks and smooth
brow. His gaze lingered on the rub and slide of Atherton’s lips and the naughty tug of his cock
against the slick corners of Atherton’s mouth.
Atherton cupped Michael’s balls, rolling them with his thumb and began to hum. The
vibrations streaked up Michael’s cock, taking him by surprise as excitement spiked from
wickedly pleasurable to sharply erotic.
“I’m going to come,” Michael warned.
Atherton kept his pace steady, giving an extra squeeze to the end of Michael’s cock as he
drew to the tip, before plunging down to the base of his shaft again. Michael tried not to thrust,
but he’d long since stopped touching Atherton’s face and hair in favor of a clutching grip to the
man’s powerful shoulders.
“Yes, like that,” Michael praised.
Atherton’s bottom teeth lightly grazed the underside of Michael’s shaft and all attempts
to hold steady fled him. Michael thrust up, instinctively. Atherton took him in stride, accepting
the use of his mouth, with a smug glint in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy Michael’s loss of control,
and it made Michael impossibly hotter.
Pressure built at the base of his cock, joining the ticklish thrill brought by Atherton’s
swirling thumb. Michael thrust faster, his breathing labored, his eyes nearly shut but for the slit
that allowed him to keep his gaze locked on Atherton. It was as though they shared the moment.
Pleasure exploded inside Michael. His cock filled and emptied as black spots danced in his
vision.
Atherton took it all, sucking down hard to the base, milking him of every drop. After a
few moments, he allowed Michael’s spent shaft to slide from his lips. He kissed Michael
everywhere, leaving no area unloved by his attention.
“I love the way you taste. Your smell intoxicates me,” Atherton told him.
Atherton looked up from his position between Michael’s legs. “Never forget this.”
Sadness touched him. “How could I?”
“Promise me you’ll spend every night with me until—”
“—Until London,” Michael finished for him. “Yes.”
Atherton climbed his body. He lowered himself to lie on top, blissfully pressing their
naked bodied together. This is how they were meant to be. This is how love should be. No
intrusions. Nothing left unsaid. Nothing left undone. No curses to keep them apart. No regrets.
“I love you,” Michael said through building tears.
Atherton tipped his head to the side, kissing the corners of Michael’s eyes. “You are
more precious to me than I could have imagined someone being. Is there a word that means more
than love? If there is, what I feel for you surpasses even that.”
Michael wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Atherton’s shoulder. “Beyond
love,” Michael agreed.
* * * *
The days went by too quickly for Atherton. Michael spent every night in his bed after a
full day of etiquette training. Not all days were enjoyable. In fact, most were tedious, but every
night was perfection of their making. His favorite moments were the ones where he simply held
Michael, drawing him against his chest until they fell asleep, tangled in the sheets.
Loving Michael came naturally and while they made up for a future without the pleasure
of each other’s bodies, they had a few nights where the only thing they wanted was each other,
alone, naked, merely holding on.
But as dawn broke bright and sunny, Atherton realized his prayers hadn’t been answered.
There was no blistery snow to keep him from London today. In fact, there was very little snow
on the ground at all. And though Atherton had waited until the tri-fold days of shape shifting
ended, Michael had not left his side throughout them, choosing to stay and offer whatever
comfort he could.
Atherton turned from his bedroom window as Michael came into the room.
“I’ve called for a bath. Your trunks have been packed. All that remains are your traveling
clothes on the bed.”
Michael recited the information as though it gave him no pause whatsoever. Atherton
studied him and found Michael’s expression devoid of emotion.
“After your bath,” Michael continued. “You’ll be set to leave. The London townhouse is
prepared for you. Mr. Leedy sent word during breakfast that you’ll be expected by dinner time
tonight.”
“Come with me,” Atherton rasped.
When Michael looked up, Atherton finally saw the turmoil in his beautiful blue eyes.
“You know I can’t, my lord.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
Michael smiled sadly. “You haven’t a choice.”
“We haven’t had enough time together,” Atherton argued.
Michael crossed the room and absently began undressing Atherton for his bath. “Would
there truly be enough time, my lord?”
“Don’t do that, Michael. Don’t start my-lording me.”
“What would you have me call you? Lover, husband? That right will never be mine. It
will belong to her.”
“We’re not over.”
Michael backed away from him. Atherton wanted to grab him and keep him close, but the
distance in Michael’s body language warned him to stay away.
“We’re over, Atherton. We never truly began.” He took a deep breath, as though
fortifying himself for the sallow smile he sent Atherton’s way. “Now, clean up. Don’t forget to
shave and tie your hair in a combed cue, my lord. All of London awaits.”
Michael left him then, albeit stiffly, formally. Atherton hated it.
He shaved and cleaned up. He dressed, trying not to think of the journey he was about to
embark on. Trying not to imagine the pretty fineries of London parlors and young, perfumed
misses whose soft bodies weren’t wholly unappealing, they just weren’t Michael’s.
They wouldn’t have his angles, his mind, his love, his way of thinking, his blunt speech,
nor his acceptance. They wouldn’t know him the way Michael knew him. Michael had seen the
worst in him, the animal in him, the deviant in him, and had taken it all while asking for more.
Michael had seen the wolf and loved the man.
Atherton waited in the entry as Henry loaded the coach with his belongings. Atherton
turned, hoping for a glimpse of Michael, but came up lacking.
The above stairs maid came down the steps. She seemed uncomfortable. “My lord, Mr.
Hastings wishes me to tell you that he bids you safe travel and success. He regrets to inform you
that he’s not able to attend you at the moment and begs your pardon.”
Atherton straightened to his full height. He glanced up the staircase, but without another
view of his love, he pressed his lips together tightly, nodded at the housekeeper, and spun on his
heel. As he reached the door, he paused. “Margaret. Please inform Mr. Hastings that Mr. Leedy
has his payment in full. Any further obligation agreed upon is dissolved.” He stopped, wondering
how much of a message he should deliver third party. “And tell him he may stay as long as he
wishes before departing. That he shall always have welcome at Atherton Hall.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her curtsey. Atherton squeezed the doorframe he
hadn’t realized he’d been holding on to and walked down the front steps to the waiting carriage.
Henry closed the carriage door and climbed to the driver’s bench. Atherton tapped the roof and
the vehicle lurched forward.
It felt foreign, leaving Michael behind. Like he was venturing into the unknown world
away from the familiar and loved. As though part of him was being neglected. But Michael had
been so cold that morning, most likely owning to the fact that he needed his distance from
Atherton as much as Atherton had needed to say goodbye properly.
They passed through the gates of Atherton’s estate and climbed the long low hill leading
away from his property and toward the bustle of high society. Within hours, he’d be having
dinner and accepting invitations. By the morning after, he’d be visiting the parlors of giggling
young ladies who would adore being the next Viscountess above anything else.
She’d agree to marry him and return to his hideaway home, hidden from family until she
was with child. Then she’d hide away by choice for the spawn he’d seeded in her womb. And
she would cry as his mother had cried. Or leave, and once again Atherton would be alone.
Having pushed away the one person he wanted most.
The decision had never been an easy one. There were sacrifices from every angle. He
either left Michael and married a bride who’d rid him of the curse, or he stayed with Michael and
suffered the change several nights a month, every month of his life.
It had never been easy, but it had never felt as difficult as it did now. Because before,
marrying a woman merely denied himself of a love he’d never felt. Having known it now, it
ripped him in two to leave.
All of London awaits me, he thought. All of London but the one person I’d rather see
more than any other. All of London wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Michael.
There were sacrifices from every angle, he repeated. Some sacrifices were worth making.
Atherton pounded on the roof of the carriage.
Michael stood around the corner as his message was delivered. He listened to the pained
response as Atherton told Margaret he could stay on and his agreement dissolved. He wanted to
run down the stairs and demand he stay. He couldn’t. He couldn’t be the reason that caused his
lover pain. It had to be Atherton’s decision or none at all. He could give Atherton at least that
small gift.
He’d already packed his trunk. The thought of staying another night in the Hall without
Atherton was more than he could bear. If it meant leaving his trunk and borrowing a horse to ride
to his family seat, he’d do that. He could send for his belongings later, when Atherton was safely
in London, and Michael didn’t have to think of the time they’d spent locked away from the
reality of judging eyes, and marrying misses. When he could look fondly back on this without
the tears, or the pain, or the hurt that didn’t seem to quit stabbing him upon each breath he drew.
God, would it ever be easy to breathe again?
Michael finally gathered enough strength to stand away from the wall. He took the stairs
feeling as though his legs were leaden and better off detached from his body so they could
wander without him. Best that, so he could sleep until the pain stopped. But reach the bottom he
did, and he made his way through the great hall toward the room where he’d first met Atherton
in wolf form.
The memory made him smile. If he’d only known then the significance of that wolf! He
could have cooed for him and winked. That would have surprised Atherton beautifully.
The front doors opened and colder air swept in. Michael turned, his throat catching on a
sob as Atherton filled the opening. His expression was unreadable, blacked out completely by the
brighter light that shone in behind him. His form was unmistakable.
“Did you forget something?” Michael asked roughly. He’d been gone barely minutes and
already it felt like a lifetime.
“Yes. I forgot who I was for a moment,” Atherton answered, stepping inside. “I can’t do
this without you.”
Right. That. “You’ll have to make do.”
“Will I?”
“I can’t go with you. We’ve been through this,” Michael said exasperated. “I can’t—
can’t, please,” he added brokenly. “Don’t ask me again. This is hard enough.”
Atherton walked quickly to him, dropping his coat and gloves on the floor of the great
hall. “Michael, I need you.”
Atherton looked wrecked. His face tightened with sadness. One moment Atherton
approached, the next, Atherton pulled Michael into his arms.
“It all means nothing without you.”
Michael’s arms moved around him without thought. “The curse.”
“I survived it as an infant. I’ll survive it as an old man with you at my side. I said it
before, my wolf’s constitution seems capable of handling many things. I can manage the change
if I have to.”
Despite himself, Michael buried his face in Atherton’s neck. “You don’t have to. You
have a choice.”
“That’s correct,” Atherton whispered. “I choose you.”
Michael lifted his face. Atherton kissed him, tearing a desperate cry from Michael as their
tongues touched and took. Atherton held him as though he were a drowning man and Michael his
salvation. When their kiss broke, Atherton smoothed his hand down Michael’s cheek.
“I love you. That has to count for something.”
“It’s everything,” Michael whispered. “But is it enough? Will you regret coming back to
me in the years to come?”
“How could I if you’re beside me reminding me of all the reasons why you were the right
choice to begin with? Will you have me, Michael?”
“Every day of my life. I love you.”
“Take me upstairs and show me how much,” Atherton said roughly.
Michael slipped from his arm, catching his hand before they were fully parted. He walked
backward to the stair, carefully taking one blind step at a time. “Come, my lord. You have some
making up to do.”
“Do I?”
“Mm. You caused me to worry I’d lost you. I foresee reparations.”
“Will you beg?” Atherton asked.
“Repeatedly.” Michael stopped. Atherton took the step below him, putting them at equal
heights. Michael gazed into Atherton’s silvery gold eyes, looking for and finding the passion he
sought. Michael’s lips pulled into a relieved smile. “Welcome home, my lord. You were
missed.”
“Barely twenty minutes.”
“Yet, a lifetime of doubt,” Michael murmured.
“Remove all doubt, my love. We’re both home now.”
About the Author
Mia makes her home in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she divides her time between a job and
spying on people. Mia enjoys long walks in Como Park, daisies, dancing in the snow...(Delete
prior sentence, meant for personal ad)...
Mr. Perfect may apply in person for a thorough evaluation and trial. All others will be towed.
Also Available from
Resplendence Publishing
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