The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

She pushes his hands into the water. Grabbing some soap, she quickly lathers them up. She doesn’t like the fact that she is voluntarily touching him but if there is any sap on his hands she needs to remove it quickly.

“They are a beautiful flower-that is why we are so attracted to them. However, they are extremely poisonous. Within minutes of coming into contact with the bright green sap that bleeds from the clipped stem, people get sick-vomiting and such-before they pass out. If not cleaned off quickly, the sap can leech into the blood within an hour. When it reaches the heart, the only result is death,” her eyes briefly flash up to him, “They call the flower the ‘ex-lover.'”

Irron looks slightly shocked, “I feel fine, at least I think I do… won’t you get sick?”

Namora shakes her head, “For some reason it doesn’t affect me. It didn’t affect my mother either-they think she passed her immunity down to me.”

In an instant, his eyes go cold, but his voice is soft, “Do you know much of her? Your mother?”

“No,” she dries his hands off, “Aside from that particular immunity, as far as I can tell I don’t share anything in common with her,” her voice goes quiet, “no one talks about her much.”

The two stand awkwardly for a moment in silence. She sets down the dry cloth. Irron cups her face into his hands, “I am going to miss you terribly, my love. I know it is only two and a half days that we will be apart, but I don’t know how I am going to stomach it.”

Please hurry up, Eunice she thinks. Her hands reach up to Irron’s wrists; though it might seem like an affectionate gesture, she does it so that she can prevent his hands from moving elsewhere. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.”

He leans ever so slightly closer to her, his eyes wanton. “May I have a kiss? Just something to tie me over, until we meet next?”

She wants to say no but she doesn’t have a good enough reason to deny him. She forces a smile onto her face, unable to say anything. As he begins to close the gap between them, she tries to prepare herself for her first kiss. A fleeting thought crosses her mind: not only will he be the first man she kisses but he will be the last.

His lips are surprisingly warm and he tastes sweet like honey. What starts out as a soft touch slowly deepens as he breaks free from her hold and slides one hand behind her head, the other around her waist. Pulling her close to him, she finds it hard to struggle away from his unforgiving chest. His tongue snakes its way into her mouth; her heart seems to lie dead inside of her, unresponsive to the situation that is slowly spiraling out of control.

Her door scrapes open and she can hear Eunice gasp. Irron quickly pulls away, removing his hands from her. She stands alone, face red with anger.

“I’m so sorry, Princess, I didn’t think-” the old lady blabs.

“It is alright, Eunice. King Irron just came to escort me to the dance. He was just about to wait outside for me to finish getting ready.”

“Yes, right,” he huffs, sidestepping the old lady out the door.

Once alone, she sits back down in front of the mirror. Her hands shake with rage so she keeps them clutched in her lap. Without a word, Eunice begins to fix Namora’s somewhat frazzled hair before twisting the crown on top.

When she steps out into the hallway she finds Irron waiting for her. She notices for the first time that he is dressed in a deep green coat, trimmed with gold. Namora forces herself to admit how handsome he looks in the color; she speculates that he wore it because it is her favorite. He smiles at her and takes her arm, turning in the direction of the Grand Hall.

She knows it is still a bit early which means that she will have to entertain him for a while before the townsfolk arrive. Though he doesn’t say anything, he somewhat possessively places his hand over hers. The hall is empty as she suspects but instead of leading her to their table, he continues on to the middle of the dance floor. As soon as they reach the center, music starts up. He smiles, taking her hand.

“I asked them to come early, so that we could have our dance in private.”

“That was thoughtful of you,” she smiles, somewhat relieved that they can get this out of the way.

The tune is a simple one as are the steps; it is a slow waltz in which partners never change but the fact that they are alone allows him to pull her a little closer than she would dance with someone else. He stares into her soul with his dark, dull eyes.

“It is a shame that this is our last night together… here in Derven. I was hoping to get to know you a bit more, on a personal level.”

“There will be time for that in Alumenia and more yet after the wedding,” she forces herself to stare back at him, accepting her fate.

“Yes, of course,” he mumbles. Before they can chat further, Laren and her father enter the room, taking their seats at the smaller table. Soon, while they are only half way through their dance, townsfolk begin to enter, standing silently against the walls as they watch the couple move across the dance floor.

Though she hates to admit it to herself, he isn’t a horrible dancer. If he practiced he could be a very good one but she suspects he despises it as a lowly activity. As the music comes to a cadence, Irron delicately tips her backwards and everyone begins to clap approvingly. He brings her back to her feet, taking her hand in his. The couple smiles tensely; Irron nods his head in thanks while she curtseys. Before they leave the dance floor, he surprises her with a gentle hand under her chin, followed by a soft kiss on her lips. Her face reddens, more angry at the fact that he kissed her in front of her father than in front of the whole town. None the less, the clapping gets louder with a few cheers. The couple makes their way back to their table and the music begins again as people fill the dance floor.

It is a few minutes later that she notices Irron’s Advisor sneak in. Irron looks at him with a slightly questioning look, only to get a brief nod of affirmation. A smile creeps on to his face before he turns his attentions back to Namora. She gets an eerie feeling that something is afoot.

The rest of the night they have short conversations, mostly consisting of Irron asking her of her likes and dislikes so that he can ensure his castle meets her expectations upon her arrival in Alumenia.

She answers him warmly, allowing herself to be happy that she will have a few days away from him to herself. Yet she doesn’t allow herself to think past those two days; the thought of having nowhere to run to in a foreign castle, no one to protect her from her future husband seems more than she can stomach at the moment.

The night moves by quickly and soon the Hunter’s Waltz plays, signaling the end of the dance. Irron’s hand slithers over to cup hers and though she dislikes the feel of his skin touching hers she doesn’t withdraw it. When the waltz is finished, leaving only one couple remaining on the dance floor, everyone files out of the doors to the front of the castle to send off the King. Her father and Laren rise, following suit, leaving only Namora, Irron and his Advisor in the Grand Hall. Still holding onto her hand, Irron slowly walks her to the front doors of the castle and down the stairs past her father.

The elaborate silver and gold carriage he arrived in waits at the bottom of the steps, doors open towards them so that when they stop at it she cannot see any of the townsfolk. Irron turns to her, grasping her other hand in his. As if he wants to completely break her down, his cold eyes search her face while his pleasant voice whispers, “I love you, Namora.”

Though she knows they are both pretending, she can’t bring herself to say those words to him even if they are a lie. His eyes begin to darken as the silence between them grows. She is forced to do the only thing to side step his anger-she rises up onto her tip toes and kisses him. Namora doesn’t pull away quickly like she wishes to, but she lingers, parting her lips slightly to allow his tongue to caress hers. She waits until their kiss is on the verge of vulgarity before she slowly pulls back; the wicked look in his eyes lets her know that he was pleased by it.

Without another word he lets her go and climbs into the carriage. His Advisor follows him into the box, shutting the door between them and the Princess. Slowly, they pull away from the castle and down the main road heading out of town. All of the townsfolk cheer and wave good-bye; Namora stands still with her hands clasped in front of her and her face blank, until she can no longer see the metal box in the distance.

She turns and ascends the stairs; Namora walks right by her father and Laren without making eye contact or even acknowledging their existence. She heads directly to her room and climbs in the bathtub, scrubbing her body until her skin hurts as much on the outside as she does on the inside. She rinses and dries off, climbing into bed naked and for the first time in weeks she sleeps through the night. CHAPTER 8: FRIENDSExclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

The next morning she wakes up feeling like she had just slept for weeks. She missed breakfast, as it is almost lunch time. Namora dresses quickly, slightly angry at herself that she slept through several hours of her remaining freedom. She exits the castle through the kitchen, grabbing some meat and cheese before directing one of the attendants, “Tell my father I shall be at Amyee’s house all day and will remain there for the night. Let him know not to expect me back until morning.”

Greystar is eager to get out of his stall, having missed their usual late night excursion. Once they take the road heading out of town he knows exactly where they are going and trots contentedly without direction. Namora finishes her food as well as two plums she snagged from the orchard. When they finally reach the small, slightly overgrown path that leads through the trees to Amyee’s house, she slows Greystar down to a crawl, not wanting to seem too eager to greet her friend.

As the forest pushes back, opening into the small clearing, she can hear the steady rhythm of a saw. Namora dismounts Greystar, walking him the last few yards to Franklin, where he processes a long tree trunk into planks. She waits until he is done as he never stops in the middle, claiming that it will mess up the wood if he does. Finally, when he is at the end and the plank breaks loose, he turns to her.