A Werewolf Sex Tale With Some Plot In It: Witches They Couldn't Burn

Rejected✅

My father's deep timbre mingled with the murmur of my brother Dorian, discussing the day's impending conclave. A glass of cool water materialized on the table beside me, a extended by my father.

"Drink," his voice, a gentle murmur amidst the tempest of my affliction. Shaking hands reached for the glass, my head pounding, my skin clammy and cold. The water slipped through my parched lips, a temporary reprieve from the heat that ravaged my body.

As we awaited Lord Vastos in the grand Hall, my condition remained unchanged. Sweat clung to my skin, the weight of my eyes closing in. The harsh bang of the door jolted me, my head throbbing in response. The arrival of Lord Vastos, marked by my father's presence, bore a disquieting air.

"Your daughter has misled my warriors" his disdainful words pierced the heavy silence, his gaze cold as marble. I swallowed my protest, my voice caught in the tempest brewing between my father and him. His fingers closed around my neck over my neck, hoisting me into the air, pinning me against the unforgiving stone. His grip, firm yet restrained, constricted my breath, his words a blade against my resolve.

"You are deemed unworthy of the position you hold," his voice resonated with authority, sending shivers down my spine. Before I could even muster a response, a wave of inexplicable sensations surged through me as his touch grazed my skin, leaving a trail of delightful tingles in its wake. With a sudden force, he released his grip, causing me to stumble and fall to the ground. I glanced up to meet his bewildered gaze, his hand lingering in mid-air as if astounded by its own actions.

"Did he touch You?" Dazed and trembling, I sought solace in Dorian's steadying presence.

"He did..." A shudder rippled through me as I confided in him, my father's inscrutable gaze bearing witness to the tumult within. Chaos reigned, unspoken words dancing in the space between us, a silent testament to the storm that loomed on the horizon.

Lord Vastos endeavors to keep pace with my fleeting figure, only to be thwarted by Dorian's swift intervention. My father, his countenance a mask of bewilderment momentarily, swiftly regains his composure.

"I shall ensure that my sister atones for her transgressions," Dorian proclaims with unyielding resolve, yet I cannot help but notice the tautness in his shoulders, a telltale sign of his inner turmoil.

"Silence," a commanding voice echoes through the room, the weight of the spell striking my brother like a thunderous blow, forcing him to falter and kneel in submission.

Lord Vastos' piercing gaze fixes once more upon me, his lip curling in a sneer as he advances slowly, each step calculated. I hold my breath in fearful anticipation, my heart thudding against my chest, only to be spared his touch as the door creaks open, revealing there soldiers, battered and bruised, and his wolf familiar.

As the soldiers silently depart, Lord Torkan makes his grand entrance, casting his authoritative presence over the room. Despite the intensity of Neith's stare, I avert my eyes to meet my brother's transfixed gaze, fixated upon Lord Torkan.

At the sight of the wolf familiar of the soldier who claimed me, a rush of emotion wells within me, culminating in a single tear that escapes my eye, quickly brushed aside. That familiar, upon recognizing me, musters the last of its strength to nuzzle against my face, a gesture of love amidst the chaos. Tears prickle at my eyes, yet I steel myself against the tumult of emotions, focusing on Torkan unwavering gaze.

In the midst of the tense standoff, Lord Torkan commands the soldier to release me from his mark, a grudging act he obeys with palpable reluctance. As he seizes me by the throat, his wolf is held back by Lord Vastos, a silent witness to the impending ordeal.

Driven by the beastly rage within, he subdues me against the wall, inflicting a searing agony that leaves me writhing in torment. His menacing whispers and sharp claws evoke a primal fear, mingled with revulsion, as I struggle against his grasp, to his Torkan and Vastos growls.

"Your concern for her is truly touching, Lord Torkan" Vastos' voice drips with sarcasm, punctuated by Torkan's flippant defense of his actions.

Unveiling a shocking revelation, Torkan remains silent. With a final, contemptuous glare, Lord Vastos departs, his footsteps echoing down the marble corridor, leaving behind a palpable sense of foreboding that lingers in the air.