Journey of the Hunted

Werewolves in the Renaissance 2

By Tracy Falbe

Journey of the Hunted: Werewolves in the Renaissance 2Copyright Tracy Falbe, all rights reservedFirst published 2014 by Brave Luck Books ™ an imprint and trademark of Falbe

Publishing.

Dedication

To those rejected for what they are.

“What the people love has little to do with what comes to pass,” Mileko argued. “Don’t fancy yourself some folk hero. You’re the monster in the night and they will always fear

you.”

Excerpt – A Love Scene…

“This way,” the man said and led Thal and Altea along the landing toward the front of the building. He took them into a big room that had windows looking out on the square. A large four-posted canopy bed dominated the room. Dark blue blankets covered the bed and an orange tabby cat was curled up on it. The cat lifted its head and hissed at Thal. Then it leaped for the door. In the hall Pistol encountered the flash of orange fur. A wild yapping chase ensued around the landing.

“Fluffy thinks this room is just for him,” the innkeeper apologized. “I’ll send up that water as soon as I can.” He pulled the door shut when he left.

Thal and Altea looked around the room. It was dusty and cobwebs hung in the rafters, but the privacy and the bed were exciting luxuries. Thal pulled Altea close. His solid arms triggered her desire. Without preamble their lips joined and they shuffled to the bed while kissing greedily.

He laid her back on the bed. Altea sank into the soft feather mattress. She could feel the warm spot left by the cat beneath her shoulder. Thal stepped back and undid his

cloak. He tossed it on the bed along with his marvelous wolf fur. Altea pulled the fur out and nuzzled it.

The soft tickle under her nose reminded Altea of the times they had made love. During their couplings his fur had always been spread beneath her in secret places under secret trees. The scent of Thal and the Earth were mingled upon the fur and prodded Altea to lose herself in his greatness.

He leaned on a bed post while pulling off his boots. He took off his belt and set his guns, sword, and knives on a table. Altea sat up to help him with the straps holding on his cuirass. She could not do much because of her thumbs.

“I’ll manage,” he said and gently brushed aside her fingers. She moved a hand up his thigh and massaged the filling codpiece.

He discarded hastily his armor. Its loud clang upon the floor made everyone downstairs look up. As if feeling the eyeballs below, Thal and Altea laughed at the careless noise and rolled into each other’s arms.

“We’ve never done this inside,” she commented between kisses. His tongue licked the inside of her lips and he breathed soft words into her mouth. “I

want you to make noise too.”She gasped at his naughtiness. The threat of embarrassment intruded on her lust

when she considered half the village might be downstairs by now. But her modesty could not withstand his lips nibbling along her neck and his hand up

her skirt. When his passion engulfed her, she cast away her cares. His masculine power consumed her world. Her womanhood made perfect his male craving like snow hardening a newly forged blade.

Trust deepened their physical connection. Altea knew Thal’s secrets. And he loved her for who she was. They did not judge each other by the standards of the cruel world that called them the Devil’s servants.

The lusting appetites of new lovers would not be denied. They took off their clothes. Thal caressed her breasts and suckled her nipples until her hips heaved beggingly beneath him. They rolled across the soft bed and wound the thick blanket around them. Within this cocoon they became one. His every thrust made her gasp. She lifted her knees and clutched his hips with her thighs to prove how completely she accepted his desire. She put her crippled hands upon his hard chest and looked into his eyes. Every color was within them, and behind those mysterious portals was a soul that had lived as an animal more than a man.

Pleasure slackened his face as he focused on the slick connection of their liberated bodies. Then he kissed her again, almost demandingly. Their tongues pushed back and forth like their bucking loins. The intensity of his desire both frightened and delighted Altea. She felt defenseless and special. The contradiction could not be reconciled, only enjoyed.

Ecstasy pulsed through her body. Every hardship was erased in those blissful moments.

Thal cried out softly and surrendered to the same forces. Altea had lost count of their couplings although each time remained precious. How

many times would she receive his seed before a baby came? Would a baby come? He was more than a man. He was a beast. The thought should have terrified her, but his love made it acceptable. He was not the monster in her nightmares. Other men were. She had

seen him kill for her, but he possessed more morality in a single tooth than those who had condemned her.

Thal slid off her but stayed close. His lips were on her cheek. His hand caressed her hip. “I want you to have fun tonight,” he said.

“This is fun,” she said, catching her breath. “Indeed, but I mean with other people. I see you’re nervous. You must make yourself

relax. We’ll eat in the common room. I’d like to hear you sing,” he said. “Oh,” she said, flustered by the thought of performing. It was terribly immodest.

Provocative even. Thal continued, “Let us celebrate our return to society.”“That can’t be wise. It will draw too much attention,” Altea said. Thal sat up and pulled his fur around his shoulders. The fluffy brown and gray hide

transformed him into a vision of primitive power. Leaning against the dark headboard carved with leaves and rosettes, he said, “I’ve

been thinking that through. We can’t cross two kingdoms and not be seen. I could do it on my own. Maybe Mileko too, but I’d have to drag you through the wilds. Bandits are a great enough threat on the roads, but off the roads we would be entirely in their territory.”

He spoke from experience. Regis had written a song about what had happened. “What do you suggest?” she asked.

“We don’t hide. We don’t act guilty. We travel openly. And when the bounty hunters come…well, that will be their misfortune,” he said.

Altea sat up next to him. She traced a swirl of hair on his chest. She believed Thal could defend them but she dreaded the violence. Her finger passed over the ridge of a scar. He was not invincible.

Thal continued, “By lodging in the villages and towns we can make a little coin and eat well.” He cupped one of her bare breasts and added, “You need more clothes.”

“Yes,” she agreed sadly. She still had not entirely come to terms with the totality of her losses.

He said, “And I need to talk to people and learn what is ahead on the road. There’s still so much for me to know.”

His eyes turned inward to follow his drifting thoughts. Altea assumed he probed the wreckage of his memories. Only a handful of months had passed since his dying mother’s spell had retrieved him to humanity and made him a werewolf. He had told her how his long years living purely as a wolf had obscured knowledge of his youth.

A knock on the door ended his reverie.

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