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

Back to life

As my consciousness slowly returns, I awaken to find myself engulfed by an unfamiliar bed. With a heavy head and groggy senses, I gradually take stock of my peculiar surroundings. A single path leads me out of this place, prompting me to laboriously attempt to rise and approach a solid wooden door. However, my limbs, burdened with exhaustion and discomfort, stubbornly refuse to obey my desperate commands.

If warrior stumble upon me in my weakened state within this establishment, I understand all too well that my fate would be sealed. Hence, I resign myself to a pathetic crawl across the cold floor until I manage to reach another door. My trembling fingers clumsily grapple with the stubborn doorknob, striving to push past the weighty barrier. After a tense moment, the door creaks open, filling the air with a piercing scream.

"What are you doing?" a voice echoes from the distant corridor, its timbre strikingly familiar, though I struggle to recall where or when I could have encountered such an individual. He appears almost ethereal, his obsidian locks cascading like a shadow, framing striking hazel eyes that glimmer like rubies against his alabaster complexion. Towering over me with broad shoulders that command the hallway, he is garbed in dark attire reminiscent of leather, a flowing red robe draped over his form.

It is Lord Torkan, though weariness has etched new lines upon his once formidable countenance. "Return to the bed at once," his tone is firm yet laced with a touch of compassion.

Alas, my weakened state renders me immobile, my gaze falling as I extend a trembling hand towards him. "She seeks your permission to speak, my Lord" a male voice asserts from behind, as Vastos emerges, his unsettling tranquility sending shivers down my spine.

Fear grips me as he approaches, his grip upon my arm unyielding as he hoists me upright. Despite my feeble attempts to draw closer to the enigmatic Lord Torkan, my exhaustion proves insurmountable. A surge of inexplicable intensity envelops me in his presence, leaving me bewildered and vulnerable.

"I shall escort her back to the infirmary," Torkan declares, effortlessly lifting me into his arms. "Ensure she receives ample rest." With a decisive turn, he carries me down the corridor, in route to the infirmary.

This unexpected turn of events, while unsettling, bears an uncanny sense of comfort. I nestle my head against his chest, drifting into a state of serenity, only to awaken and find ourselves outside a cluttered room, adorned with towering bookshelves and a central desk.

Lord Torkan lowered me onto the bed with a gentle hand, his movements deliberate and tense as he unfastened his shirt. A storm of emotions brewed within him, evident in the furrow of his brow and the tightness of his jaw. My own hands trembled as I dared to speak once more, my gaze flickering away to avoid the sight of his bare chest, though I found myself captivated by the contours of his sculpted physique.

Without warning, his hand guided mine to rest upon his abdomen, sending a wave of tingling sensations coursing through my veins, my entire being alight with a newfound fervor. The ripple of his muscles beneath my touch mirrored the rhythm of his breath, a synchronicity that felt both intimate and forbidden, igniting a desire within me that I struggled to contain.

His eyes fluttered shut briefly, yet his thumb continued to caress my hand with a tenderness that belied the turmoil that thrummed beneath his skin. Upon opening his eyes, he released my hand with a deep exhale, as though shedding the weight of an invisible burden that had strained his muscles taut.

"Do you understand what I am?" Torkan inquired, his voice a low rumble as he perched on the edge of the bed, fixing me with an unwavering gaze.

I nodded in response.

"Then I implore you to reveal your true self to me," he urged, a gentle smile softening his features.

"I..." I began, only to halt abruptly and conceal my words behind trembling fingers.