Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves by W. A. Hoffman Page B

pushed myself to sitting despite his silent protest, and tended them. Then, with little tugs upon his tunic, I bade him remove his clothes. I ran my fingers over his flesh to insure myself he had not been beaten. There were old bruises, but they appeared to be the rewards of his struggles and not the result of cruelty. I kissed each yellowing bruise I found in the dimlight, and then took the rag, and bathed himas he had done me; until I had cleaned himin all the places I was now clean.
He took the rag back, and cleaned my feet and legs. I
    He took the rag back, and cleaned my feet and legs. I did the same to him, and then we dressed one another’s wounded ankles. There was only one area we had not touched, and I wondered at his reticence, though I was greatly relieved he had not examined me to find the wounds that must surely be there. And then, belatedly, I understood that that was his reason.
    I snatched the cloth up and bathed his privates and buttocks with care. He rose in response to my ministrations, but his eyes were filled with guilt. I was afraid he would dismiss his arousal, as he had always proven able to do. I grasped his manhood firmly and met his gaze with pleading eyes. He regarded me with wonder and then slow capitulation, before movingcloser to nuzzle myneck.
    His hand closed over the cloth, and I knew I must surrender it. He carefully washed and examined my privates. I did not rise for him: I felt no need. This was not the emotionaddled loss of desire I felt from time to time, but a profound emptiness. I had trulybrokenmyself.
    He fondled me and met my gaze. Tears welled in my heart and spilled out my eyes, and he nodded with patient understanding. I kissed himand buried myface inhis neck.
    Then the rag was upon my buttocks. Every muscle in my body tensed, and I held myself rigid as he began to rub toward my nether hole. He stopped, and put a hand aside my neck to push me back enough for our eyes to meet. I pressed my forehead to his, but held his gaze. The question I did not wish to answer was in his eyes. I nodded. He hissed with pain and his Horse eclipsed all else with a rage that made my Horse wish to flee. He crushed me to himbefore I could.
flee. He crushed me to himbefore I could.
    I could not speak. I did not know what I would say if I could. I was drawn and pinioned in purgatory. I wanted his forgiveness, but I knew there was nothing for him to forgive. Except… I had banished my cock. Except that my Horse had been traitorous—as had my cock—and thus made me do such a thing. I was an animal. I lacked the conviction of a man. Yet I had acted withthe convictionofa man.
    Shame held me under, and my Horse began to plunge about, tryingto breathe. I did not realize I was moving, struggling with Gaston, fighting to escape, until he pinned my weak and battered bodyto the deck.
    He held me stilland covered myface withkisses. I could taste his tears and hear his sobs as wellas myown.
“I love you,” he began to repeat over and over again, until at last it drowned out all else and the words took on meaning.
I stopped trying to struggle and surrendered, to lie boneless and gasping beneath him. His mouth covered mine, and I opened for him and accepted the truth of his tongue: he loved me, no matter what had been done to me, no matter what I had
done. With a hoarse cry, I wrapped my limbs around him, and
    kissed himwith abandon. Nipping and licking his jaw and neck. He responded ardently at first, only to stop and push up and away. I sprang up after him, and we crouched facing one another. His eyes were full of his Horse, and I knew mine were much the same. Though his beast was hungry and regretful, and mine was hungryand pleading.
mine was hungryand pleading.
    I needed him. I wanted him. I… Words finally came. “Make it allgo away,”I croaked, and held out myhand.
He sucked in a great breath and wonder lit his eyes, and thenunderstanding. He took myproffered hand.
My belly was least wounded, so I