That chuffing sound came again and then he was rubbing the other side of her neck and finally she knew what he was doing.
“You are scenting me.”
It was not as if he could answer in his current form, but his ministrations increased, his wolf rubbing against every bit of exposed skin she had.
Her neck, her face, her hands, her feet and then he was trying to nose under her shift.
She jumped back. “Stop. What are you doing?”
He made a whining sound again, this time more plaintive.
“I will not take off my shift,” she assured the wolf.
He took hold of the hem in his teeth and tugged, his intent clear.
“Stop that. You are going to rip it.”
The wolf did not appear to care, pulling harder on the fabric.
“You are too forward,” she accused and then realized how ridiculous she sounded.
Telling a wolf, of all things, it was too forward.
Oh, she knew that like other Chrechte, Bryant was fully cognizant as a wolf. But she also knew that like herself, when in his animal form, for the most part his animal instincts ruled.
“You can’t mean to scent me all over,” she said, though she was very much afraid he did.
His only answer was to tug harder on the hem of her shift. The sound of fabric renting filled the air.
She cried out. “Fine. Will you please stop? I’ll take it off.”
He stopped tugging, but did not let go of the shift.
“I promise,” she said, unable to believe her own words, but even more the genuine intent behind them.
She was going to allow the wolf to scent her. His need to do so was so strong, she could not deny him.
She did not understand, but she knew that she’d missed him these past five days and feared never seeing him again.
The ache to be near him had caused her eagle to constantly fight for supremacy . . . she had wanted to take to the skies and find him.
She’d had no thoughts to fly beyond the deepest parts of the forest in five years.
Bryant released her shift and she tugged it over her head, but put her hand up to stop him coming closer. “After you have scented me, you will shift. We will talk.”
He gave a short bark of agreement and she dropped her hand.
He marked her body with his scent, making her giggle more than once as she discovered more ticklish places than she knew she had.
Finally, the wolf seemed satisfied and lay beside her on the furs, a strange rumbling sound much like a purr, but not, coming from deep in his chest.
Mayhap it could be described as a happy growl?
Regardless, ’twas more than apparent the beast was appeased.
She let him bask in his contentment for long minutes before reminding him that he needed to shift.
He gave another bark of acquiescence and she turned her back to give him privacy for it.