Entwined Destinies (7 page)

At least, it felt that way for a moment.

I look down to admire Mason as he gratifies me, but it’s not Mason anymore. It’s not even the half-man, half-wolf version of Mason. It’s another man between my legs. Somebody I’ve never seen before—not at first blush, anyway.

He’s larger than Mason, bulky and robust, a barrel-chested man with grey-streaked hair. The grey hair doesn’t make him look old so much as
distinguished
. The chiseled, handsome features don’t hurt either. Still, it’s his eyes I want to see. I can’t see them because they’re closed, focused on the task in front of him. Like Mason, he’s too busy eating me out.

The grey-haired man must sense my gaze, because he finally looks up and makes eye contact. That’s when I recognize him, but not because I’ve seen him before. I haven’t. I recognize him because I’ve seen his eyes before, gleaming red and vicious in the dark. In a cave. In Norway. This is the wolf I saw Sylvia nestled against, but in his human shape.

Dammit. Why can’t anything be simple?

I don’t have the heart to tell Mason, or stop him, but I’m picturing another man with his tongue between my legs. The vision has taken over, so I can’t help it, but the strangest part? It’s not a man I’ve ever seen before. Well, not in human form, at any rate.

If I can trust my visions, and I do, I saw this man earlier today during my last orgasm with Mason. Except I didn’t see him as I do now. I saw a wolf. Presumably the wolf this man can become.

The details are all suspiciously well aligned. Mason was turned by a wolf with red eyes that Sylvia drove away… as a teenage girl. That was sixteen years ago in Norway.

My last vision flew over land and sea to where I think Scandinavia is located. It could have been Norway, but the vision didn’t stop there. It flew into a burrow where there was a massive wolf. A wolf who wasn’t alone. Sylvia was there with him, nestled in his fur.

I still haven’t come up with an answer for that part. It’s hard to be sure of anything with my visions, but I’m sure Sylvia and this wolf connected somehow.

That’s when the red-eyed wolf saw me. At least, I think he saw me. It felt like I was actually
there
at the time. If I had to guess at what my vision is trying to tell me both then and now, I’d say that whomever this man is, he’s coming. Soon.

I clench my eyes shut and try to erase has face from my mind. Maybe if I focus hard enough, I can dispel the vision.

“Are you all right?”

It’s Mason’s voice. His
human
voice.

I open my eyes again to see that he’s already changed back. That was fast.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

His chin is glistening with my juices.

“No. Not at all. Just the opposite. You have me in a lather.”

Well, you and a strange man with red eyes
, I think.

Mason smiles. “I can taste how excited you are.”

“Oh gods!” I say, covering my face. “How horrible am I?”

“Not horrible at all. It’s like drinking nectar. And the scent gets me riled up.”

“I feel like a waterfall down there.”

“Good,” he says, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Mason wags his tongue against my breach to prove his point.

“That’s because you’re crazy,” I tell him. “Why don’t you come up here instead?”

He does. You don’t have to ask Mason twice.

The familiar weight of his body presses against mine. I can feel his length sliding along my leg. It clearly has one thought. Find the warm place and disappear inside that moist sheath. My nethers are no less single-minded.

I want nothing more than to swallow up Mason and bask in his heat. He obliges my unspoken urgency, sliding into me effortlessly. No guidance required and no resistance offered. Mason growls into my neck, opens his mouth to bite me, and snaps at my flesh.

His entire body smothers me in the way that I love as he fills my depths. His breathing is steady, but I want it to be ragged again. I close my eyes and disappear into his rhythm. My hands travel down his muscular back and reach for his backside.

Mason drives into me with the insistence of a refreshing gale. I dig my fingers into the taut flesh of his ass, clutch the cheeks, and pull him closer. I want even more of his girth, all of him. I want the wolf.

I spread my legs farther apart to make that possible, bend them at the knees, and caress his flank with my feet. Mason collides with the back of my cavern, can’t help himself. He wants me like I want him.

I can feel the change ripple over his body as coarse hair grows across his skin, down his back and up his legs, thickening into fur. I can feel his bones shift beneath my touch, stretching muscle and sinew, tightening flesh into hide.

If the transformation is painful to endure, I get no hint of it. Mason hasn’t stopped having his way with me. He doesn’t slow down in the least.

I watch as he grows above me, overshadowing my body in his bestial shape. He’s thicker through the middle and wider across the shoulders. He’s incredible to behold, but that’s not the only place he grows.

I close my eyes and gasp for breath as his girth widens me, stretching my nethers from the inside out. It’s both too much and not enough. I want this more than anything. I can take it. I can weather the change from beginning to end. I’ll adjust. I know I can. I hope I can.

Okay, maybe I’ll need a little help.

It has been a while since Mason was this vigorous with me, but I have just the spell in mind. Maintain the Flesh should do the trick nicely. It worked before.
Sustento in Carne
, but without the words. Apparently, my love for Mason makes them unnecessary. A product of being a natural Maiden, according to Candice.

Casting the spell will drain the quicksilver pool even more, but the lust I’ll be harnessing from Mason will more than replenish what I use. Especially if the last time is any indication.

More than that, I want to be enough for Mason. I want him to feel like he can be himself in my arms, both as a human and a wolf. I want him to feel like I can receive him in any shape, that he’s not a monster to me. Just the opposite. Mason is a force of nature. He’s everything I want in a man. The protection. The possession. The feral animal that wants me more than anybody else.

To make that possible, I need only will the spell into existence, like I already did with my Preserve the Lust casting. Except I better do it soon, before he really loses himself.

I open my eyes to gaze upon the man I love, but that’s not whom I see.

It’s the stranger again, fucking me with those vicious red eyes. The vision is persisting for some reason. The image of this robust man picked up right where it left off, but how? I thought it was over. That I dispelled it with my mind.

I need to cast Maintain the Flesh, and soon, but I can’t cast it in front of Mason, assuming he’s still here with me, masked by this persistent vision of another man.

I try, but nothing.

I try again. Still nothing.

My ability to cast spells without the words is lost to me. What did Candice say? That the wordless spellcasting has to come from the love I feel for Mason. How can I feel that love when his face is replaced by a stranger looking down at me?

I feel what must be Mason, engorging between my lips, pushing the limits of my capacity as he becomes half-man, half-wolf, but I can’t see him. Just this crimson-eyed man that I have never seen before today.

He smiles at me, but is it Mason smiling? I can’t tell where one man begins and the other ends, but more importantly, I don’t know how much more I can take. Is it Mason or a stranger inside me? My nethers are moist, but I can only take so much. Dammit, it has to be the words, then. I don’t have a choice any longer, even if I risk being discovered as a witch.

“
Sustento in—
”

The stranger clasps a hand over my mouth, or Mason does. I can’t tell which anymore. Maybe I’m imagining the whole thing. Either way, I can’t finish the spell. The vision of the man with red eyes grins down at me. A cruel face. Greedy.

I try to move his hand from my mouth, but he pushes down even harder. He’s too strong. I’m muzzled from casting any spells. That’s when the robust figure really starts to thrust with abandon. He doesn’t care if he’s too large.

How is this even happening? It can’t be real. It’s just a vision, entirely in my head, yet I’m utterly caught up in it. I can’t divorce myself from this moment. It’s cruel and painful and rough, but that’s not all.

I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but it’s also exquisite beyond imagining. I’m at this stranger’s mercy. A man I don’t even know, except for some gut feeling that he might be connected to Mason somehow. He’s almost certainly connected to Sylvia, and that’s exciting as well. The lack of permission. At least, it’s exciting until he pulls out of me.

Clawed hands grab my waist, lift me bodily into the air, and spin me around. My weight is negligible to this man who may or may not be Mason. I land facedown. Fingers grab my ass, grabbing a cheek each, and spread them apart.

I don’t know what to expect until his long tongue lashes out like a whip. He licks me prow to stern, my undercarriage as well, over and over again, circling both orifices whether I like it or not. The truth is, I love it.

Is Mason doing this to me? Or is the stranger? Gods help me, I don’t care anymore. So long as he doesn’t stop.

His tongue is so long and soft. It travels everywhere without asking. My body is a live wire. His ministrations are like an electric current running through me. I don’t know what he’s going to do next, but so help me, I want him to keep doing it.

Do your worst, stranger!

My clit, my labia, my nethers, I don’t care. They are all prey to his fiendish tongue. Even my asshole. Nothing is sacred to this man who may or may not be Mason. No opening is neglected, and it feels incredible.

What amazes me is how much force his tongue can apply to me. He gives me one last lick that wraps around the front of my pelvis and slowly draws back. A snake slithering between my legs that tastes every part of me. My lips quiver open in anticipation as his tongue passes between them. I’m actually panting.

The man doesn’t keep me waiting long. It’s like a giant mushroom is being forced up my breach, and I scream at the invasion.

That’s when I realize my mouth hasn’t been covered for a while. I completely forgot to cast my spell of protection when the chance provided itself. It seems redundant now. I’ve taken him at his most swollen.

It helps that I was taken from behind. Still, I took him. All of him. I can’t offer a lot of depth, but I accommodate his width without any problem. Much to my own surprise.

My legs have no choice but to splay apart. The enormity of him demands it. I turn around to look back at Mason. Or the stranger. I’m not sure who I’ll see this time.

It’s the hybrid version of Mason, rippling with muscle. His back is hunched, jabbing into me with shallow thrusts. His eyes are rolled back, not really seeing me anymore.

I want to do more for him, so I push back onto my knees and bury my face against the bed. Mason digs his claws into my hips, but I can feel the sharpness of his fingers this time. The trickle of blood they draw. My body is so flooded with endorphins right now that I can’t even feel the pain. He could be shredding my flesh and I wouldn’t know it.

Mason towers over me in this position. The fullness of him splits me open like a ripe peach. This must be exactly what he wants, because I can feel him pulse inside me. Veins fattening with blood.

The one spell I did cast beforehand is still working on him, siphoning his lust through my body as a conduit, sending his energy to the quicksilver pool through the tendril still attached to me, but that’s all it does. I have to inspire his release, usually with signs of my own pleasure, and so I do, moaning into the sheets.

Mason throbs his response, knowing that I’m about to release as well, and moreover, that he got me there. I can feel the backlash building inside him. He doesn’t hold back, or wait for me get there first. It’s all about him, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. His need is greater than my own right now.

I can feel the jism erupt through his length and fire out of him, and each pounding of his beating heart brings more. A jet stream fills me with milk and honey. There’s so much of him today. He doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

That’s when he pulls out of me, still coming, launching streaks of himself onto my ass. It slides down between my cheeks. I tense my stomach to gush the spunk out of me, Mason’s handiwork on display for him alone.

I look back to gauge his reaction, but he’s not there anymore. He’s been replaced by my vision again. The red-eyed man with salt-and-pepper hair has returned. A brazen smile on his face. He’s no less horny than before.

That’s when I realize he’s not done with me yet. I can only imagine where he will go next, and then I don’t have to imagine. I know. I can see it in his eyes, and I only have one second to recall a spell that I haven’t cast since I first became a witch.

Since I was young woman embarking on my role as Maiden for the first time. It’s almost embarrassing to fall back on that spell now after all this time.

“
Accommodo magnitudo
.”

Fit size.

It’s the first spell to pop in my mind a second before the stranger plunges himself in my tightly lubricated backside.

The spell takes effect in time, and thank the powers it does.

The stranger that replaced Mason was just beginning to push into me when the magic enchanted my balloon knot. And just like that, he painlessly fits. I still have to grip the bed with all my strength, as his ramming speed is no less robust than before. Not only that, but he’s not letting up.

None of this is making any sense. Why does the vision of this man keep blotting out Mason? And why is Mason fucking me in the ass? It’s not like him to be presumptuous. Not the Mason I know, at any rate. As for the man who keeps replacing his likeness, that could be totally in character for him.