was almost too much, to be loved this fiercely. He was everywhere, and I wanted more. I pulled him to me, arched up against him, losing myself to each and every movement. His skin felt like fire against mine, his teeth grazing my neck as he grunted and thrust deeper. Moon or no moon, I dug my nails in and clung to him, reveling in his animal fervor. It would be all right; he would exhaust himself (and me) and come back down and we could save Marianne and it was so good, so good…
Then it changed. And it hurt. He was being too rough. Too violent. I struggled beneath him.
“Wolf, stop.”
He didn’t listen.
“Wolf, stop!”
He looked up at me and growled, a low menacing one this time, and his eyes had changed. They were red again. The red of blood and melted rubies. He bared his teeth.
Panic swept over me. This wasn’t love. It wasn’t even animal lust. This was rape.
I struck out at him, but he caught my hands and pinned them above my head. He used his other hand to hold my hips to the floor while he drove into me. I twisted and screamed, straining against him. He brought his head down and sank his fangs into my shoulder. I screamed again, tears building in my eyes. My shoulder grew wet with blood. I’d made the mistake of convincing myself that I could handle him like any other wolf, like he could be studied and understood. This was not a wolf from my world. They were wrong, sick, ruled by the moon. He was keeping me here until he was done, biting me like a lion biting a lioness. I did not matter.
I squirmed, shouting and trying to kick at him. He growled again at my shoulder. I managed to work one hand free and punched him in the ear. He let go of my shoulder and snarled in my face, but I swung my elbow around and struck him right above the eye. He yelped and recoiled backward, giving me enough time to scramble out from beneath him. I kicked him in the shoulder as I went. I managed to crawl around a stack of hay bales, wishing that I had a knife or at least my bear mace.
Wolf rocked back and forth, a hand to his face. He whined as blood trickled down his cheek. I’d opened a spot over his eye. Then he groaned and took his hand away, staring at the red liquid as if trying to remember why it was there. He licked his lips, which were still wet with my blood. His eyes went wide and he looked frantically around the barn.
“Caroline? Caroline!”
“I’m here,” I said quietly. I peered at him over the hay, too drained to move again.
“Oh,” he choked out. “Are you all right? How badly did I hurt you?” He reached out to me, but I recoiled behind the hay.
Pure anguish shone on his face. “I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
I wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it would be okay, but I would just be lying again. None of this was okay. I was still naked; going out to him might have the opposite effect. I didn’t know how to approach him without setting him off again.
He let his hand drop and then howled piteously. I wanted to say something, but my mind felt like it was drowning and I hurt and my shoulder bled down my arm. I watched him spring to his feet and sprint from the barn, headed for the woods.
I sat on the floor of the barn for a long time. The sun was setting, sending burning orange rays through the barn windows. I wanted to be angry, but I wasn’t. I thought maybe I should cry, but I didn’t. I didn’t have the energy to do either of those things. I was too tired and numb. I didn’t blame Wolf, not entirely anyway. Mostly I blamed my own arrogance. My own overconfidence in thinking I could handle his wolf side when clearly wolves were not the same here. After all, he’d warned me.
Finally I got to my feet, found my clothes. I did a slapdash dressing of my bite wound, covering it with the remaining gauze and a few squares of duct tape. As an afterthought, I fished the pouch of money from Wolf’s jacket. Then I started back down to the village, formulating answers for the undoubtedly