Sassy Ever After: Secret Sass (Kindle Worlds) by K. Lyn (1)

SECRET SASS

A Kindle World Novella

 

K. LYN

 

 

Contents

 

 

 

***

Lost in the woods and in danger of being captured by her former master, Victoria encounters a strange, attractive man.  When she learns he’s the owner of an estate, she begs to work for him in exchange for protection.  He reluctantly agrees, not wanting his secret to be known.  Before long, Victoria discovers more about him, and realizes she’s still in danger, but of a different kind.

***

 

Nervously, Victoria approached Sir William's massive estate.  His mansion was three stories high with ten rooms on each floor.  There was a stable on the right hand side, and massive green plains with grazing horses surrounded it.  The estate had arched windows and two black double doors.  As Victoria approached the double doors, her hands shook.  No longer shall I be the mistress of Sir William, she thought, frowning at the copper handle of the door.  Fear filled her at the thought of telling Sir William that she was through with him.

Before cowardice could get the better of her, Victoria knocked on Sir William's door and then paused.  It was but a second before one of the three butlers, Edward, answered the door and beckoned her inside.  Edward was thin and tall with graying hair and a serious expression on his face.  If Victoria didn't know him well, she would have sworn he had the inability to show emotion at all.

"Sir William is expecting you," Edward said.  "This way."

Edward whirled around and Victoria began to follow after him.  Halfway down the hall, she saw through an ajar door that Sir William's wife, Edith, sat in a wheelchair with a blank expression on her pale face.  Her blonde hair, which was missing in tufts from her scalp, hung lank at her shoulders.  Despite her sunken legs and shriveled condition, she wore a fine dress of the palest blue.

"Edith is still showing no improvement?" Victoria asked sadly.

"No," Edward said.  "Perhaps it is better she not."

Then Edward's eyes lingered on Victoria for a moment longer than necessary.  Though his face once again did not change, she understood what he meant.  Perhaps it is better she not, because there is a whore like you running about the estate.  She balled her fists and fought down the nausea.  She didn't want to spread her legs for a man who was not her husband.  She didn't want to force herself to visit his bedchambers and then leave again within a few hours like a common prostitute.  Unfortunately, she had to do it.  But no longer.

She frowned and then continued to walk down the spacious hallway adorned with draperies of the finest red.  Edward came to a pause outside Sir William's dining room and then knocked three times.

"Is it Victoria?" Sir William grunted from inside, his voice deep and husky.

"Yes, sir," Edward said.

"Send her in," Sir William said.

"Yes, sir."

Sparing her only one more glance, Edward pushed open the door and held it open for her as she stepped inside, her heart pounding in fear.  Sir William's dining room was large with a massive table which seated twenty and a crackling fireplace that filled the room with warmth on cold winter nights.  Sir William sat at the head of the table.

Sir William had dark brown hair filled with graying strands and his auburn eyes were sharp and cold.  In his thin hand, he held a metal goblet of dark red wine Victoria thought appeared a lot like blood.  The thought gave her the chills despite the roaring fire on this warm spring day and she shook it from her head.

Victoria approached the table and sat down across from Sir William, still quaking.  Sir William reached out and grabbed her sweaty palm at once.

"Your hands shudder," Sir William said, frowning at her.  "Please tell me you have not gotten the chills, Victoria."

"No, sir," Victoria said, shaking her head.  "I am in good health, same as always."

"That is good."  Sir William's eyes dropped to her ample bosom in the jade gown he had purchased especially for her.  "I wouldn't want anything to happen to my companion."

The time to tell him was now.  She bit her bottom lip and ran her hand through her curly red hair given to her by her late Scottish father.  At that moment, she wished she could have summoned the fiery persona which seemed to accompany the hair, but it escaped her grasp.

"I will not come to see you anymore," she stuttered.  "I am sorry, Sir William, but this arrangement will come to an end."

Silence.  The only thing she could hear was the crackling of the fire behind her, which filled the room as well as caused her back to grow hot.

"What?"  Sir William gripped her hand so hard it caused pain to go up her arm.  "What is the meaning of this?"

As his grip tightened even mote, she cried out.  She attempted to pull her hand back, but he stood up and yanked her to him.  Though she let out a scream of fear as she collided with his solid chest, she knew nobody would come for her.  She trembled in Sir William's arms and stared up into his narrowed eyes.  As she gazed into them, she saw anger and burning malice in them.

"What do you mean you will not come to see me anymore?"  Sir William shook her.  "I have fed you and your starving mother when your father grew sick and died.  I kept your land safe."

"Only at the cost of something which should never be given," she said.  "My virtue."

After drawing back his hand, Sir William slapped her across the face and burning filled her cheek and her ears rang.  She screamed again as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and then raised his opposing hand to stroke her pale cheek.  The other cheek was still consumed with an inferno of heat.

"Listen to me, woman," Sir William whispered against her forehead, even as he continued to yank her hair so hard she was breathless and feared he would pull it out of her head.  "You will continue to be mine.  I will not let you go.  Not now, not ever."

"Stop it."  Tears of pain filled Victoria's eyes from Sir William's hair pulling.  "I don't want to be with a man I don't love anymore.  My mother is getting remarried, and she will be fine with him.  I am free from this immoral servitude.  I. Don't. Want. This."

Flipping her around so fast that Victoria gasped, Sir William forced her against the wall by the fire with a "bang."  He held her up by her neck and tightened his grip until the breath was chased from her lungs and her neck seared with pain.  She tried to inhale, but no air came.  It was like being trapped under the mighty waves of the ocean with no hope of breathing.  As tears trickled down her cheeks as she stared into Sir William's murderous gaze, she tried to push him away but he was much stronger than she.

Dear God, he is going to kill me.  She once again tried to inhale, but he did not loosen his grip.  She brought up her hand and somehow managed to hit him in the face, scratching him under his right eye.  Swearing, he finally withdrew his hand and she grasped her neck, inhaled, and then began to run.  Halfway to the door, he seized her by her dress and dragged her down to the ground with a painful bang.  She screamed, tried to crawl along the floor, but he grabbed a fistful of her hair and held her head back.  He then straddled her, leaned forward, and breathed his sour breath into her ear.

"You will not leave me," he whispered.  "I won't let you.  You're mine.  If you left, I would follow you and take you back."

As he continued to straddle her, she shuddered and realized she could not hope to get away now.  She peered up at the table and spotted a golden goblet she knew was heavy.  An idea sparked in her brain.

"I won't leave you," she lied.

"Good," Sir William said, reaching down and cupping her breasts so hard her flesh burned.

The single touch made her want to sink into the river to soak for twelve hours.  She fought down the urge to vomit as he dismounted her back, flipped her over, and then leaned down and kissed her.  As she tasted red wine on his tongue as he forced it into her mouth so roughly that it hurt, she glanced up at the table above her and focused on that glistening goblet again.

Sir William's rough hand began to yank up her skirts around her hips, but she didn't want to allow him entrance.  She didn't want a man like him to touch her most private parts again.

"On the table," Victoria said.  "Let's do this on the table."

"That's the lecherous woman I know," Sir William chuckled.

Sir William stood, yanked her to her feet, and then slammed her against the table where he continued to pull up her skirts.  The goblet trembled, then fell to its side and spilled bloodlike wine on the wood.  It then rolled a few inches away from her.  As Sir William forced his lips over hers again, she finally managed to grasp the handle of the goblet and let out a shaky sigh.

Just as Sir William broke free from the kiss, she rose up her hand and brought the goblet down upon the back of his head with a dull, resounding thud.  He swore, shocked, and wrapped his hand around the back of his head.  Victoria shuddered and raised the goblet again.

"God forgive me," she said.

Victoria brought the goblet down on his head a second time, and this time he fell to his stomach with a bang.  Because she saw his arm twitch as he attempted to rise, she hit him again and then paused.  Sir William lay on the floor, unmoving, except for his ragged breathing.  What have I done?  I did not expect to harm anyone.  Oh, God.  Oh, God.

With a shaky gasp, Victoria turned and fled from the room.

Sir William awoke in his bed with his head pounding.  Edward, his butler, stood over him with a worried expression on his face.  Dr. Willard, his wife's fat, portly doctor, stood beside him.  What is the doctor doing here?  And why am I in my own bedroom when I was with Victoria?  He groaned, trying to recall what had happened last.  It was hard at first, but then he began to remember.

"You will not leave me," he said to Victoria.  "I won't let you.  You're mine."

As he continued to straddle her, he felt her quiver beneath him and felt his cock swell at the thought of her so powerless.

"I won't leave you," she said.

Of course you won't, Sir William thought.  You're mine, and you know it.

"Good."

Blinking, he sat up in his anger and remembered seeing a golden goblet go flying toward his head.  Yes, that was exactly what had happened.  He had just been in the middle of driving Victoria's dress up her silky thighs when the bitch hit him over the head with his own goblet.  Pain had filled his skull and while he was distracted, she had hit him again and then he woke up here.

"That witch," Sir William said.  "That witch."

Sir William attempted to get out of bed, but Dr. Willard grabbed him by his arm and tried to stop him.  Unlike Sir William, Dr. Willard was a large man and managed to get in his way.  Sir William scowled at Dr. Willard.

"You shouldn't leave the bed," Dr. Willard said.  "I recommend a bleeding for you."

Yanking his arm away, Sir William stood – or at least he attempted to.  He wobbled for a moment and Dr. Willard caught him and steadied him.

"You must have a bleeding," Dr. Willard said, pushing him down to the bed.  "Now."

No, what I must do is find Victoria.  Sir William glared at the fine portrait of Victoria he had hung at his bedside so that he could imagine her even before he slept.  Her hair, pale skin, and bright green eyes taunted him now.  As Dr. Willard pushed him back down onto the bed, all he could think of was the fiery anger burning deep in his heart.  Victoria was supposed to be his and his alone.  How dare she think she could escape him?  And her mother finding a husband…what a disgusting turn of fate.  He thought he had it made when Victoria's mother, Cecile, went mad and refused to work after her father was poisoned, leaving food and money all up to Victoria.  I have worked so hard to ensure Victoria would be mine, but now this.

As Sir William lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling wood, his fingers clenched the crimson bedspread.  The first time he laid eyes on Victoria, he had wanted to make her his.  He remembered that night in the middle of summer when he had first seen her dance.

The fires were bright in the darkness as Sir William rode in the carriage to the city.  Sir William accompanied a beautiful prostitute who went by the name of Roxanne, and she giggled and draped herself all over him.  She stank of ale and perfume.  In the distance, a large fire burned.

"What is that?" Sir William asked.

"That?" Roxanne peered at the burning fire.  "The townspeople are holding a festival where they dance around a fire.  It's silly, really.  I like to do a different kind of dancing."

With a smirk, Roxanne fingered his shirt.  He pushed her away and said, "Driver, bring me there.  I want to see."

Pouting, Roxanne turned away from him and balanced her chin on her palm.  He ignored her.  As physically appealing as she was with her blonde hair and blue eyes, she was annoying too, like a small child who had to have everything her way, though he paid her.  He continued to ignore her all the way until the carriage drew to a stop at the road by the crowd.  The carriage couldn't go any farther because a ring of people gathered around the fire.

Talking, laughter, and the fiddle could be heard.  The sweet scent of roasting meat hovered in the air.  Sir William climbed out of the carriage with Roxanne behind him and heard the ground crunch beneath his feet.  He walked over to the ring of people and pushed his way through them.  That was when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life.

The girl had hair the color of the roaring fire behind her, skin as pale as a freshly laid snow, lips the color of a spring cherry, and childbearing hips worthy of sons.  Her long arms were wide to the world as if she wanted to embrace everyone in the crowd as she danced to the sound of the fiddle and spun.  The dress she wore was white, the color of innocence.  The whole appearance she had was that of sweet innocence.

That innocence only made him want to break her more.  He could imagine her underneath him, her thighs damp with blood from where he had broken her virtue, her eyes wide and her body trembling.  He wanted to break her and keep her.

As he watched the girl, she spun around the fire and drew to a stop in front of a plump, laughing woman with long blonde hair and fat breasts and a man with red hair and a pleasant grin.  The girl hugged the man, spun again, and then hugged him once more.  She then attempted to drag the man out to dance.  Her father and mother, he guessed, were watching them.

I want her, he thought. I want her now.

"Roxanne, go and wait in the carriage," he said.  "I'll pay you when I get back."

"What?" Roxanne asked.

Ignoring Roxanne when she grabbed his arm, he walked over to the girl and her parents and paused in front of them.  The girl stopped dancing and cocked her head, innocently curious.  God, he wanted her even more then.  He could imagine those red lips upon his body.

"M’lady," Sir William said, extending his hand.  "What is the name of such an exquisite beauty?"

Before she could answer, a hand landed on her shoulder and the girl's father stepped forward.

"Her name is Victoria, but she will have nothing to do with the likes of you," her father said.  "I saw you with that prostitute.  My daughter is a good, virtuous girl."

Anger filled him as Sir William gazed at the man.  How dare he speak to me like that?  At that moment, he realized he would have to find a way to have Victoria.  A slow grin crossed his face as he watched Victoria grasp her mother's arm and a plan formed.

"I'll be leaving, then," Sir William said.

But not for good.

Dr. Willard grabbing his arm brought him back to reality.  Yes, as soon as this bleeding was over, he was going to get Victoria, and he would make her sorry she had ever forgotten who she belonged to.

The atmosphere in Victoria's house was tense.  Victoria grabbed her clothes and stuffed them into a bag.  She also seized the sword her father had given her before he died, wrapped the blade in cloth because she didn't have a sheath, and put that in her bag too.  She then glanced over the dented table at her blonde-haired mother named Cecile who stood with her betrothed, Dawson.  Her mother was plump with blue eyes, and Dawson was also plump but had brown hair and hazel eyes.  Both of them appeared wide-eyed and tight lipped.

"Oh, Victoria," her mother said for the thousandth time that evening.  Her mother stared pointedly at her neck.

Victoria knew she had fingerprint bruises along her neck from when Sir William had almost choked her to death, and she had bruises along her thighs and back too.  Though her body ached and was sore, she knew she had to escape from here.  There was no doubt in her mind after seeing Sir William's rage that morning that he was going to come after her with a vengeance.  She could only pray he would be unconscious for a long while.

"Mother," Victoria said, stepping toward her mother and hugging her.  "Promise me you'll be careful with Dawson.  Promise me."

"I will," her mother said.  "But we are only going to Dawson's home one town over.  Are you sure you cannot go with us?  Maybe Sir William won't follow you there."

"He will, Mother," she said.  "I know he will."

Both of them were silent.  More tears poured down her mother's face and Victoria hugged her again, hard.  Victoria felt as if she could no longer breathe.

"I'll write to you, Mother," Victoria said.  "I'll let you know when I get to where I'm going.  Are you sure you won't come with me?  What if Sir William comes after you because I pushed him away?  It will be my entire fault.  I couldn't bear it if something happened and you."

With tears streaming down her cheeks, her mother pushed her hand against Victoria's lips.

"This is not your fault, Victoria," her mother said.  "If anything, this is my fault.  You are my daughter and I should have been watching out for you.  I shouldn't have ever let you go off with that wicked, wicked man.  He stole your virtue and could have killed you."

"You did warn me, Mother."  Tears began to spill down Victoria's cheeks too.  "I just didn't listen.  He offered me money to feed us when we were starving, and I took it.  I didn't even ask you.  Don't blame yourself."

"But I should have stopped him."  Her mother's bottom lip quivered.

"Oh, Mother."  Once again, Victoria hugged her mother.  How long would it be before she saw her mother again?  Months?  Years?  Being away from her mother made her feel like throwing up.  "I love you so much, but I have to go."

"I know," her mother said.  "I know…"

Shuddering, Victoria whipped around and grabbed her bag from the floor and then walked over to Dawson.  She pulled him into a tight hug and he grunted, shocked.  He's a good man.  I can leave my mother in his care.  After she had pulled away, she kissed Dawson's cheek.

"Take care of my mother, Dawson," she said.

He patted her cheek softly with one hand.  "You take care of yourself too.  And you will always be welcome with us.  It doesn't matter to me how much richer Sir William is.  Nobody messes with my daughter as long as she's with me."

"Thank you, Dawson," she said.  "I've got to go.  You'll be in less danger if I'm not around."

Feeling sadness and fear, she walked toward the door, opened it, and stepped outside.  The clouds were thick and grey, and cold rain fell in fat dollops.  She turned and ran to the paddock where they kept their horses, grabbed one of the halters that hung on the fence, and opened the gate.  She lunged over to her dapple-gray stallion, Stormy, with a wide head, black mane and tail, and large eyes.  Stormy lowered his head so she could put the halter on, and she put his nose through and tightened the strap around his ears.  She grabbed the side of the halter, led him over to the fence, grabbed one of the leading ropes and tied knots at both sides of his halter.  They had only one saddle and bridle and she had learned to ride without tack.

She pulled the horse out of the paddock, shut the paddock door, clambered onto his back, and slid downward until she was comfortable, with her bag resting in front of her at the base of Stormy's neck.  After digging her heels into Stormy's sides, he burst into a fast canter.  She then urged him into a gallop by driving her heels into him.  Soon she and Stormy flew down a foreign path, heading toward a world she did not know.

***

After Sir William's bleeding, he got his horse and climbed onto her back.  The ride from his estate to Victoria's house was a short one, but his anger was fierce and he immediately drove his heels into his horse's side to hasten the trip.  The trees and the plains rushed by him as his horse snorted and ate up ground.  Finally, he came upon a dumpy house with a paddock that was Victoria's home.  He drew his horse to a stop, dismounted from her back, and growled when he realized something was wrong.  There were no horses in the paddock, only fresh hoof prints.  No fat hens pecked the ground by the house either.

"Victoria," he roared, dropping his horse's reins and not even bothering to tie her up.

He ran over to the door and discovered it was unlocked.  Once inside, he let out a howl of anger.  The house was empty.  There was no food on the shelves.  The only things that remained were a poorly made wooden table, a set of chairs, and a large bed.  He knew even commoners didn't live this poorly.

As he stood in the house, shaking, he thought, I will find her.  And he knew just where to look.  Victoria had slipped up when she told him her mother was getting married.  All it would take was a few questions around the town and he would find out who her mother had married and where she was.  One thing for certain, he knew there was no way that Victoria, who had given up her virtue to feed her mother, would leave the woman alone for long.  And when Victoria contacted her, she would contact him too.  He would make sure of it.

 

Light shown in from the window where Leon sat and he grasped his skull as his forehead throbbed.  The full moon is tonight.  I always have headaches before a full moon.  He moved from his chair and glanced outside into the horizon where a small town appeared at the bottom of the hill.  He could make out a giant fire in the middle of the town and sighed.

There was the sound of footsteps behind him and then the sound of knocking.  Leon whirled around and walked past his large king-sized bed and the bookshelves which lined his walls.  He opened the door to his small, mousy servant named Donovan who had dark black hair and blue eyes.  Donovan was a new servant, since his first one had quit after Leon frightened him too badly.  Donovan glanced at Leon nervously, as if he would devour him – then again, he just might.

"Are you ready?" Donovan asked.

"Is anyone ever ready to be shackled to a wall all night?" Leon asked dully.  "But we must do as we must.  I will ensure that I never kill anyone again."

Not like my brother.  Visions of his auburn haired sixteen-year-old brother filled his mind, but he shook the memory away.  Already the sun had begun to go down, and he could feel pain within his bones.  It was only a matter of time now.

"You can control when you transform into a wolf on any other night," Donovan said.  "Why can't you stop from transforming on full moons?"

"It has been that way with werewolves forever," Leon said, trying to be patient.  "I can't explain it, just as I cannot explain why the venom from a werewolf bite made me like this."

Though Donovan didn't appear to like the short answer because his lips pursed, he nodded his head and moved to walk down the hallway.  The hallway was dark and smelled of mildew, and there were cobwebs on the ceiling.  Rich tapestries hung upon the walls and fine decorations graced cherry wood shelves, but they too were covered in layers of dust.  It had been that way since Leon had been bitten by a werewolf two hundred and fifty years ago at the age of thirty-two and had been forced to fire all the servants to keep them safe.  Now, one servant was enough, and usually he chose one who had secrets of their own, so that way they would be less likely to tell the world of his curse.

"Why won't you let me watch you transform?" Donovan asked.

"Because it would frighten you too badly," Leon said.  "Do you truly wish to see it?  Your uncle was the one who explained to you about this job, am I right?  He fled from me weeks ago and he was a strong man.  You would do well to remember that.  Now let's hurry.  I feel pain and cracking in my joints and the windows show the darkness."

"There is cloud cover."

"On a full moon, no amount of cloud cover will make a difference," Leon said.

Giving a timid nod, Donovan quickened his pace, walked down a flight of stairs, and then turned to the right where he opened the door for Leon.  Leon entered a dungeon that had a pair of metal shackles fastened to a brick wall.  There was no window, lest the townspeople hear his wild cries even more than they already did.  There was only a piece of brown cloth lying on the ground for Leon to tear at while he was in his werewolf form.

Leon staggered into the dungeon and backed up against the wall with his hands up.  Donovan headed in after him and nervously placed the shackles around Leon's wrists and snapped them shut.  Now Leon was completely shackled to the wall with no hope of being released.  He tried hard not to think about what would happen if Donovan decided not to unshackle him the next morning.  As a werewolf, he was immortal.  He would be up against the wall getting hungrier and hungrier for all eternity, and it wasn't like anybody would come searching for him because his entire family was dead.

"Do you need anything while you're here, sir?" Donovan asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"No," Leon said.  "Just get out of here.  Fast.  Get to your cleaning."

"No one man can possibly hope to clean an estate as big as yours," Donovan muttered, pivoted, and walked away.

An atypical youth.  Leon frowned.  I was that way once, so long ago.  Once again, he thought of his brother and cringed.  That memory always seemed to haunt him when he was in shackles.

Leon sat in his bedroom as his sixteen-year-old brother, Devon, sat beside him.  His brother was small and thin with pale skin.  Devon lifted his hand and pressed it to Leon's throat, which was covered in a bloodied bandage.  His eyes began to tingle and his muscles ached.  He let out a startled gasp.

"Leon?" Devon asked.  "Leon, are you all right?  Is it the wound?"

As more agony filled his muscles, Leon groaned and fell back onto the bed, dragging his nails over his skin.  He felt as if there were bugs crawling underneath his flesh, devouring him from the inside out.  Throwing back his head, Leon let out a wild scream of pain.  It hurts so bad…so bad…He saw Devon's face above him and reached for it.

"Devon," he groaned.  "Oh, God in heaven, Devon."

Then the taste of blood filled his mouth and everything went black.

Leon shook his head, pushing away the bad memory.  This curse of his…If he was a braver man, he would have driven a sword through his head already.  Alas, he was not a braver man.  He resorted to staying here, shackled up in his own dungeon, so that way he would never have to wake up next to a corpse of somebody he loved again, knowing he had done the deed.

Leon awoke the next morning with a groan.  His head pounded and he felt sick to his stomach.  That was always the case after a full moon.  Normal transformations he could handle.  Full moons, though, were special.  He sighed and began to pull at his shackles.  Where was Donovan, the blasted boy?

"Donovan?" he called.  "Donovan, where are you?"

A few minutes passed and then he finally heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway.  Slow, hesitant footsteps.  He watched as Donovan opened the door and came inside, pale-faced.  Donovan shook from head to toe and his eyes were so big Leon wouldn't have been surprised if they fell from his sockets.

"Donovan?"  Leon cocked his head.

"S…sir."  Walking forward, Donovan pulled out the key and unshackled his wrists.  "Are you okay?"

A moment went by as Leon scrutinized Donovan.  I understand.  Donovan looked at me when I transformed.  That's why he's so scared.  His lips tightened.  He took a step toward Donovan and Donovan took a shaky step back.

"You looked, didn't you, Donovan?" Leon shook his head. "I warned you not to.  I told you it would frighten you so much you would never sleep at night again."

For a moment, Donovan stared at his feet.  He didn't say anything.  His pale skin, quivering hands, and slumped posture revealed it all, though.  Like so many others, Donovan hated just being in his presence.  Leon was surprised he hadn't run.

"You can leave," Leon said.  "I absolve you of your servant duties.  I don't force anyone to stay here who cannot handle it, and I most certainly don't want a servant around who cannot obey important orders.  I could have devoured you.  On full moons, I don't remember who I am or what I am.  Everything goes black.  I couldn't have stopped myself."

"But what will you do?"  Donovan raised his eyes.  "Who will help take care of this house?  And what if you escape this house in your werewolf form?"

"You let me worry about that," Leon said.  "I have been a werewolf for a long time, and I will deal with the problems it comes with.  I won't have a servant who can't handle me.  Go back to your uncle."

Donovan remained still.  His expression also appeared torn, as if he wanted to stay but equally wished to go.  I do not want him to live with my curse.  He is not ready.  His uncle should never have sent him here.  He's obviously still a child.  There was one thing which would drive Donovan away, and he knew what it was.  He could change at will at all times but the full moon.

Shutting his eyes, Leon focused on the glowing heat within his heart and pictured the moon high and full in the sky.  He felt his muscles ache, his bones stretch, and his gums burn.  When he opened his eyes, he could make out every fine detail of the room.  He could see the small fly on the wall and the way its wings appeared like stained glass.  He could even hear Donovan's heart pounding against his ribcage.  A trickle of sweat ran down his nose and dripped to the floor.  To Leon, it made a deafening noise.

Leon stopped the transformation, though it was hard, like touching himself and stopping halfway to an orgasm.  His body yearned to finish the transformation and his skin tingled from the pressure.  He still needed to talk, though, and as a full werewolf, the most he could do was snarl and growl.  He glared at Donovan, who shivered and groaned, and let out a deep and angry cry.

"You did not listen to me when I told you to stay out."  Leon's voice was a deep, angry, bumbling brook.  "You are not ready.  Leave.  Now."

That was all the convincing Donovan needed.  He let out a high-pitched cry befitting of a woman, spun around, and ran as fast as he could toward the door.  Donovan opened the door, flew out of it, and ran down the hallway.  With a sigh, Leon shut his eyes and focused on relaxing every muscle of his body – the crown of his head, his shoulders, his chest, his arms, and his burning feet.  He shuddered and cupped his face in his hand.  The migraine returned tenfold.  He needed some actual sleep.

And now I need to find a new servant.  He told himself the reason why he needed to have a new servant was because he had to have somebody to keep the keys to his shackles and make sure he didn't escape, but he knew the truth deep down.  Werewolves had claws with no opposable thumbs and couldn't unlock a shackle.  He could have easily left the key on the floor and released himself, which he had done on multiple occasions.

No, the real reason he wanted a servant was selfish.  This cold estate was so lonely it made his heart ache to stare at the cold stone walls.  He wanted a friend, somebody who wasn't disgusted by his werewolf form like Donovan, somebody he could trust and count on.

If only it wasn't so hard to find somebody brave enough to be friends with a werewolf…

 

Sir William rode into town and pulled his horse to a stop next to a shop that had a sign that said Mary's.  The street was crowded with people and horses, and he growled as he glanced at them.  He knew just where he would start searching for Victoria's mother.  Victoria had spilled her heart too many times for him not to have known.

"My mother…"  Victoria sighed and gazed at the floor.  "Before my father died, she was a seamstress in town.  She sold her clothes with her friend, Mary, in her shop.  After he died, though, something about her just disappeared.  I can't…I can't go on without money.  We lived hand to mouth when my father was alive.  What are we going to do now?"

As Sir William gazed down at Victoria, he drew her into his arms and smiled into her hair.  "Shh.  I'll help you, Victoria.  I'll help you.  But you've got to do something for me."

His horse snorting brought him back to reality, and he dismounted and then pulled her over to several others that were tied to a wooden pole specifically made for the purpose.  Once again, he focused on Mary's shop and walked over to it.

The shop was small with a glass window that had prim, stylish dresses on the inside as well as a couple of hats.  He walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.  The shop smelled dusty and he fought back a sneeze.  Mary was obviously in need of a good maid.  He was shocked that she had any business at all with how unclean it was.

As he glanced around at the dresses, a plump woman with curly chestnut hair walked over to him.  The woman had on a lavender dress and wore a cream colored hat with a purple bow wrapped around it.  He grimaced when he observed her.

"Can I help you, Sir?" the woman asked.

"You are Mary?" he asked.

"Yes," Mary said.  "Can I help you with something?  Are you buying something for your wife?  Or are you courting, perhaps?"

As he gazed into Mary's beaming face, he thought, what an ugly commoner.  Still, it did good to play along.  He glanced at a black hat with a wide brim and picked it up, feigning interest.  He whirled around and grinned at Mary, who still watched and waited for an answer to her question.

"I am going to be attending a wedding," Sir William said, "and I would like to purchase a present for the bride."

"Oh, how lovely," Mary said. "Who is the lucky lady?"

"Cecile," Sir William said.  "Her name is Cecile."

A wide grin crossed Mary's fat face and made her pink cheeks bulge.

"Oh, how wondrous.  Cecile is a good friend of mine.  I can't believe she is getting married in just two weeks' time."  After glancing both ways as if a person could have entered the shop without her noticing, Mary leaned forward.  "Between you and me, I thought Cecile would never have the sense to get on her feet again.  She used to help me out in this very shop, but after her husband died, she went mad.  Wouldn't eat or feed herself.  Left her poor daughter, Victoria, to fend for her.  It's no wonder Victoria did some awful things no God-fearing woman should do.  Almost feel sorry for her.  But there is no reason for a young woman like Victoria to carry on in such a way, being with a man who isn't her husband."

"Victoria was carrying on with someone, was she?" Sir William asked, annoyance filling his stomach.  Did she mean him or another man?  Had Victoria spread her legs for more than just him?  "Did anyone mention who it was?"

Once again, Mary looked around the store and then grinned.  "Don't know myself, Sir, but I think it was somebody rich.  Victoria had more money to buy food than I did half the time, and here I am, working my fingers to the bone.  If she hadn't offered herself in such a way, I might have given her a place in my shop instead.  But I wouldn't now, not to a woman such as that.  People talk, you know."

"Oh, I know."  Sir William put his hand on Mary's shoulder and peered deep into her eyes, though he was so repulsed by her plain features he wished to flinch.  "Tell me, Mary dear, have you heard where Cecile and her betrothed will be living together?  I used to visit Cecile quite often in the village after she became mad.  I would like to check up on her from time to time."

"Don't you know, Sir, it's at the same place the wedding is at.  It's up at Oakham, it is.  By their new house.  It's a rush wedding.  Only a few people invited."  Mary sniffed in annoyance.  "I think the rush is because of a little secret in her belly, but don't you tell anyone I said so."

So Victoria's mother went to Oakham.  Oakham is miniscule.  All I will have to do is ask a few people, and then I'll find Cecile and will discover where Victoria went.  Then I'll show her.  I'll watch the blood drain from her body if she fights me again.  He spun around and marched toward the door.  As he opened it, he heard Mary cry, "But sir, aren't you going to buy a hat or dress?"

He shut the door behind him and walked toward his horse.

As Sir William drove his heels into his horse's sides, the animal strained beneath him and tossed her head.  Sir William could feel her sweat beneath his fingers as he balanced his hands over her mane, but he didn't care.  Wildham, a tiny town, appeared before him with its fat cottages.  As he galloped into the town and then yanked back on the reins so hard his horse let out a cry of pain, several people glanced his way.  One of them was a thin old man with a beard who had golden ale stains down the front of his tunic.

Sir William leapt off of his horse and walked over to the old man.  "Excuse me, sir."

The man raised an eyebrow as he stared at him.

"Would you care to tell me where I can find a woman named Cecile?" Sir William said.

Looking Sir William up and down, the man said nothing.  Annoyance filled Sir William and he imagined wringing the man's shriveled neck.  But no, if there was any violence to be had, he would save that for Victoria and maybe her mother, if she refused to tell him where Victoria went.

"I am talking to you."  Sir William gritted his teeth.

"And he can't answer you, neither," said a woman behind him.  Sir William whipped around.

A woman stood with her arms crossed in front of her.  She had large breasts, a thin waist, and large hips.  Her eyes were bright blue.  His cock immediately reacted, but this was not a pleasure trip to see a prostitute.  This was a trip to find Victoria and make her his once more.  He would feel a lot more pleasure if he had Victoria underneath him, panting and crying out, "No!" just like she had done their first time.

"Hello, Lady," Sir William said, though the woman was as much of a lady as his sweat covered mare.  "Have you heard of a woman named Cecile?  She is due to be married here soon, and I really need to speak with her."

The woman surveyed him with a cocked head.  "My father runs the pub.  He knows everything about everyone.  Would you care to come with me to speak to him?"

A grin crossed his face.  "Lady, nothing would give me more pleasure."

After giving him another once over, the woman beamed at him and waved him over.  He followed close behind, leading his mare behind him.

"So what brings a wealthy man like you to Wildham?" the woman asked.  "Most people who come here are simple commoners."

He looked down at his clothes and realized why the woman had grinned.  The people in Wildham wore soiled brown clothes and had a layer of dirt upon their skin.  He wore silks of purple and high-knee boots he had gotten especially from Kent.  Perhaps the woman had thought she could have her hand on some of his riches if she helped him.  Sly woman.  He would have to be careful around her.  Unlike Victoria, this woman was obviously not an innocent, foolish girl.

"It's in here, Sir," the woman said, pointing at a small, fat building which appeared more like a broken down cottage.  It was the size of one room in his estate.  "Tie your horse up here, at this post."

"You surely jest," he said, tying his sweat lathered horse up to an erect wooden pole.

"I do not."  She crossed her arms.  "Go on, then.  The people of Wildham are not as wealthy as you."

Frowning, he walked over to the pub and opened the door, with the woman behind him.  When he went inside, he saw that the small pub had a couple of tables, and a group of three weathered policemen sat drinking ale.  There was a small counter where a bearded, plump man wiped dirty tankards with an even more dirty rag.  Sir William headed over to the counter with the woman behind him, feeling dirty for even stepping into such a place.

When Sir William approached, the bartender glared down at him with hazel eyes.  "And who is this, Clare?  A suitor?  And he did not ask me for permission to walk with you?"

"No, Father, he is not a suitor," Clare said quickly.  "This is…Well, he's not from here and he wants to ask about a woman named Cecile.  He has not laid a hand upon me.  Sir, this is my father, Edmund."

A careful grin crossed her face and Sir William heard her secret message.  "He has not laid a hand upon me yet."  Perhaps later he would bury his face in her bosoms, if he was forced to take a night at the inn.  But not yet.  Not yet.

"So you came to talk to Cecile, eh?" Edmund continued to wipe at his glass.  "That's fine, then.  Sorry for getting angry.  How 'bout a drink?"

Sir William examined the tankard that Edmund cleaned.  "No."

With narrow eyes, Edmund looked him up and down.  "No?  I don't normally trust a man who doesn't drink."

He dug around in his coat where he kept his coins.  After grabbing two, he put them on the counter and pushed them over to the bartender.  It was the price of five tankards and more, and Edmund's eyes glowed at the sight of the coins.

"Well, now, guess I could trust a man like you, though," Edmund said.  "Dawson comes here to drink at the pub every once in a while, and his bride-to-be is a woman named Cecile.  Getting married sometime soon, I believe.  Not that anyone was invited to the affair.  They're keeping it real quiet.  Think they're hiding something."

Heart thudding in excitement, Sir William nodded.  "Yes, that would be her.  Where does this Dawson live?"

"Go down the town street and turn right when you see the funny tree with no leaves on it," Edmund said.  "There's a cottage at the end.  That's where Dawson lives.  Of course, it won't do you much good tonight."

"Why not?" he asked, his stomach sinking.

"Don't know," Edmund said.  "But old Paul made a stop at Dawson's place – wanted to buy some of his pig meat – and said he wasn't home.  Don't know where he or his bride is, either."

Sir William shook his head and his fists tightened.  "Fine.  Guess I'll just wait until they get back.  Where's the nearest inn?"

"My daughter will take you," Edmund said, nodding at Clare.  "Clare, you be a nice girl and show this gentleman to the inn and help him get settled."

"Yes, sir."  Clare curtsied at him and grinned, and Sir William knew he would be seeing more than good manners that night, whether her father was aware of it or not.

Swiveling, Sir William dug into his bag of coins and passed Edmund one more.  Edmund took the coin with a hungry look in his eye and licked his dry lips.  He gazed at Sir William as if hoping to rip off his coat and take him for all he had.  This look made Sir William draw his coat tighter around himself, and he cursed himself for not untying his sheath and sword from his horse's saddle before he came inside.

But then Edmund's eyes dulled again, and Sir William knew he was safe.

"There will be a lot more where that came from if you tell no one what I asked," Sir William said.  "And your daughter, too."

"No word 'bout it shall leave my mouth," Edmund said.

"Nor mine," Clare said.

"Good."  Now if only Victoria's blasted mother would get home, so he could find Victoria.

That morning, Leon walked to town with his cape drawn up over his head as he entered the village of Harlow.  The town was busy, and everywhere he glanced, people gasped and fell back.  They think I am of the Devil.  Perhaps they are correct.  Unfortunately, he did not know of what he was from, only that he existed.  He sped up his pace.

A hundred years ago, he had been assaulted by a mob ready to crush him beneath heavy bricks.  He had escaped the horde by transforming into a werewolf and fleeing into the forest for a time, but he would not forget their vengeance.  He wanted to spend as little time out in the open in the town as possible.  But he still had to pin up the fliers calling for a new servant.  It was unfortunate that he had run out of contacts in order to get someone new.  It was so much easier when he didn't have to show someone his werewolf form.

The sound of someone retching drew him from his thoughts, and it was also a reminder that he had reached the pub.  Even in the afternoon, someone had gotten drunk enough to throw up.  He wrinkled his nose and entered, carrying his paper with him.

One second the pub was filled with people chattering and eating stout sandwiches; the next, silence drew across the bar as he stepped inside.  He walked over to where a bar maiden served ale in large tankards, and paused.  Though the woman outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, she gasped and stepped back, clutching her massive breasts.

"I am looking for a new servant for my estate," he said quietly.  Several people inched in closer to hear him, including a thin, runty man with a small beard.  "Would you be so kind as to hang this upon your wall?"

The bar maiden nodded and took the paper from him.

"No one will work for the likes of you," said the thin, runty man.  "Get out of our town and go back to that hell hole you crawled from."

Leon whirled around and looked the man up and down, but he said nothing.  He didn't want to stir up trouble.

"Get out," the man repeated.

"Shut up, Monty.  He has as much right to be here as you.  You come in, get drunk, and cause a ruckus.  You even bring in prostitutes at your leisure.  Well, my husband and I are tired of it."  The bar maiden turned to Leon.  "Sir, I'll hang it up.  Don't know what kind of luck you'll have, but if someone comes by looking for work, I'll let them know.  Send them up to your estate, shall I, then?"

Shock filled him and his mouth dropped open.  He shut his mouth and then nodded slowly.

"Thank you," Leon said.

"Tis my job, Sir."  Then she turned and looked at the rest of the crowd.  "Now who here wants another pint?"

The roar in the pub steadily increased until it was a dull roar again, and Leon walked out of the pub feeling dazed.

 

Victoria rode Stormy into the small village of Harlow covered in a layer of sweat with her dress bunched about her thighs.  Her legs ached and her skin was covered in swollen welts where her skin had developed saddle sores after days of galloping.  People stared as she dismounted, and though she didn't know what she looked like, she had a pretty good idea she was a fine mess.

But at least I'm a mess that has gotten away from Sir William.  She could only pray that her mother had a similar fate.

As Victoria led Stormy through the crowd, she licked her dry lips and realized how much she could use a drink.  As a thin, dark-haired woman walked by her with her head down, Victoria called after her and the woman stopped and then stared at her with narrow eyes.  I really must appear horrible.  She glanced down at herself and then shook her head.

"Ma'am, I am looking for a place to get a drink," Victoria said.  "Can you help me?"

The woman nodded at a small building to Victoria's right.

"Thank you, Ma'am," she smiled.

The woman nodded again, turned, and then walked quickly down the street as if Victoria had asked her if she sacrificed cats at midnight instead of where the pub was.  Shaking her head, Victoria turned, led her horse over to the pub, and tied him up to a tree next to the building.  She patted Stormy's head and he nuzzled her arm with a sweaty muzzle.

"I'll be right back," she croaked.  "I need something to drink.  You stay here and eat some grass.  Who knows?  Maybe they have someone needing paid help and this will be our last stop."

In the last couple of towns she had stopped at, that had not been the case, but Victoria did not lose hope.  She walked toward the entrance of the pub, opened the door, and then stepped inside.  Several people turned their heads and did a double-take when they saw her.  Victoria once again frowned down at herself, shrugged, and then walked forward toward the counter where a large woman with bushy brown hair served drinks to a thin man with a full beard.  The bar maiden also did a double-take when she saw her.

"What can I get you?" the bar maiden asked.

"Whatever is cheapest."  Victoria wasn't sure how much longer the few coins she had from pilfering Sir William's old gifts would last.

"All right."  The bar maiden handed Victoria a large tankard of golden mead.

With a sigh of relief, Victoria took the golden mead from the bar maiden and took a deep mouthful.  The liquid was sweet and delicious.  Victoria swished the liquid in her mouth and then grinned.  Yes, this was what she needed.  She couldn't believe how good it tasted.  When she opened her eyes, she saw that the bar maiden still watched her carefully.

"Where are you from, girl?" the bar maiden asked.

Victoria peered around nervously.  How would Sir William find me here?  I'm fine.  She bit her bottom lip.

"Just by Uppingham, Ma'am."  She glanced down at her drink.

"Long ways to travel."  The bar maiden stared her down again.

"Yes, Ma'am."  Frowning, heat filled her face.  "My mother is getting remarried, so I came here to find work."

A shocked expression crossed the bar maiden's face.  "You say you're searching for work?"

Eagerly, Victoria nodded.  Her heart sped up.  "Do you know something?  Do you need someone for the bar?"

Being a bar maiden wasn't exactly what she had in mind when it came to earning coins.  She had envisioned herself working as a seamstress like her mother.  Still, she wasn't the type of woman who frowned upon a job when she needed the money.  Maybe Harlow was the town she was destined for, the town she was meant to live in.  It was small, but Uppingham wasn't exactly London, so she was fine with that.

"We don't need help at the bar," the bar maiden said.  "Did you happen to see the estate upon the hill when riding into town?"

Her stomach sunk.  Was there no work?  And what did the estate on the hill have to do with it?  Still, she nodded.  It was hard to miss the large mansion on the hill.  It loomed over the little town of Harlow like a lion hovered over his prey.

"I did see it," she said.

"The man there is looking for a servant," the bar maiden said, frowning at her.  "Would a lady like you be interested in that type of labor?"

The double question caught Victoria off guard.  It sounded almost like a warning.  She shrugged it off, thinking she had just gotten paranoid after Sir William.  She much rather would have worked at a large estate instead of in a bar, and perhaps the person who hired her would give her a place to stay.  Heaven knew she needed a bed underneath her instead of the lumpy ground.  Her horse could also do with a good pasture and some days of rest.

"I do have interest in it.  A very keen interest, in fact."  She grinned.  "This is the first town I came to where work was available.  People appear to be going through some hard times and weren't quick to trust the likes of me."

"Well, you do look a bit wild, your hair streaming about the way it is."

The bar maiden looked her up and down.  "I don't feel I should let you walk up to that estate without some warning, though…"

"Warning?" she asked nervously, her heart speeding up.  Maybe Harlow was not her town after all.  Maybe the man who dwelled in that estate was just like Sir William and lusted after women.  "What do you mean?"

"The man there is a bit peculiar," the bar maiden said.  "He hides alone most of the time.  Real polite, though.  Never causes a bit of trouble.  In fact, I haven't seen him down in these parts for years 'til he came by this morning, asking for a servant."

"So he isn't lecherous?" she asked.

"No.  A fine gentleman in that regard, as I recall," the bar maiden said.  "Heard no accounts of the ladies of the night heading up to his estate for anything, either."

"Married?"  Maybe his wife was cruel.  One of her friends in Rutland was a servant, and she served a mistress who treated her like slime.

"No.  No wife."  The bar maiden appeared thoughtful.  "He is bloody handsome, though, if I do say so myself.  Dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a strong body.  It is a shame he is reclusive the way he is.  With a home like that and a face the way his is, he should have found himself a good wife ages ago and settled down.  As I said, though, he is odd.  Never steps foot in town.  Speaks to no one."

Do I dare attempt to go up there to be his servant?  She frowned at her hands and hung her head.  Then again, what were the chances of her coming to a town and discovering that someone was in desperate need of a servant during these times?  Perhaps this was fate, or maybe God finally giving her a hand.  She could really need a turn of good luck.  This could have been it.  Plus, there wouldn't be any harm of seeing the man.  If she turned up and he was devilish and evil, she would leave.  No one could be worse than Sir William, and heaven help her, she had survived that.

"Well?" the bar maiden asked.

She decided she was not the type of woman who was a coward.  No, she would march up to the man's estate and ask about the servant job.  Her fists tightened in determination and she grabbed her tankard, finished the last gulp, and then placed it back on the counter with a "thunk."

"I'll do it," she said.  "I'll go see him straight away.  Heaven help me, I can't afford to stay at the inn, and I could do with a bed."

A grin crossed the bar maiden's face.  "Well, I'll be.  I'm impressed.  Haven't seen a bolder woman come to these parts in my life.  Best of luck to you.  My name is Nancy, and if you stay in town, come for a visit."

"Thank you."

Victoria pushed the tankard toward Nancy, turned, and walked out of the bar.  Once again, eyes followed her as she went, but she didn't care.  The potential was there for her to find good solid work, and she was not going to back down now that she was so close.

***

As Leon walked through the woods, he heard the sound of loud snarling in the thicket.  He stepped forward and glanced between some trees and saw a pack of wild wolves running back and forth over the carcass of a dead deer.  He let out a deep, throaty growl of warning, and two of the wolves growled back at him with narrowed eyes.

"Go away," Leon said, stepping forward.  In an instant, he could be in his werewolf form.  He didn't want any wild animals going near his estate or the village.  Too many children played in this forest.

When Leon took one more step forward, two of the grey wolves left him and sprinted into the darkness, but a dark brown wolf remained, glaring at him from over the carcass.  Leon focused on the heat within himself again and let out a deep snarl.  The wolf sized him up as if deciding whether he wanted to risk attacking or not.  A beat went by and then the wolf finally stepped away, turned, and fled.

As Leon listened to the wolves' progress with his superior hearing, he realized they were not far enough away from the town for him to be comfortable.  Maybe a half a kilometer at most.  That was dangerous.  People could get killed that way.  He knew firsthand what a pair of jaws could do.  Letting out a sigh, a memory flooded over him as he gazed down at the bloodied carcass on the ground.

Leon woke up with his head pounding and smelled copper.  What is that smell?  He blinked the daze from his eyes and stared down at himself.  His whole body was covered in something dark red that looked disturbingly like…like…

"Blood," Leon whispered.  "What in God's name is this?"

After leaping off of the bed, Leon wobbled and peered around in fear.  That was when he glanced downward and saw, to his horror, who lay on his bed.  It was his gentle brother.  He lay on his side, his arm draped over his rib cage, with his throat torn out, revealing a yellowing spinal cord within.  There were bite marks on his neck and arms, and his eyes were wide in silent horror.

"No."  Leon shook his head and took a step back into the wall.  "Sweet mother of God, no.  What have I done?  What have I done?"

But he knew what he had done.  He had killed his beloved brother, the one who had stuck by him even after the monster he had become roared to life.  He fell to his knees, gazing at the bloodied corpse, and gripped his hair, only to discover it was blood soaked too.  He then gazed at his hands, fought down the sour stomach acid which threatened to erupt from his throat, whipped around, and then ran for the door, unsure of where he was going or why.

The cool wind knocked him from his memory, and he was grateful for it.  He licked his chapped lips and listened for the wolves again.  Yes, still nearby.  He would head to his estate for food and then go out and herd the beasts from the land around Harlow.  If his brother's memory would serve one purpose, it would be keeping this town safe.

***

The hill to the man's estate was steeper than Victoria thought, and Stormy stumbled on the rough path after his past days of relentless galloping.  She pulled on Stormy's reins and climbed off of him.  The poor animal needed a break from carrying her anyway.  Stormy had proven himself time and time again over the past couple of days, and she couldn't stand the way he hung his head in exhaustion.

"We're almost there," Victoria said in determination.  "Come on, boy, let's go.  I'll walk the rest of the way."

As she gazed at the top of the estate which peeked out from over the tips of the trees like a rabbit pokes its head from its hole, she frowned and tried not to think of what would happen if the master of the house did not want her as a servant.  It would be a long walk back to town.

She girded her loins and began to climb with Stormy alongside her.  After the two of them had lurched up the hill for five minutes, Stormy threw up his head and began to nicker in panic.  He gazed in warning through the trees and then reared up on his hind legs and let out a frightened cry.  Her heart pounded.  Stormy wasn't the type of horse who panicked for no reason.

What should I do?  She gazed desperately at the estate on the top of the hill and wondered whether she should keep going.  Stormy began to knead the ground with his front right hoof and then half reared again, appearing tempted to run away.  That was enough of a warning she needed.  She trusted Stormy's intuition and knew she could trust his senses to her own.

Turning, Victoria began to lead Stormy back down the hill when she heard the sound of loud growling to her right.  She stared through the arms of the undergrowth and spotted the dark brown eyes on a snarling face.  A wolf.  She gasped, took a step back, and dug around in her bag.  She found the hilt of her sword and pulled it out with the cloth still wrapped about the blade.  She removed the cloth, and with her heart pounding, glared at the wolf.

When Stormy reared again, the wolf charged at him.  Victoria rushed forward, swung her sword wildly, and was shocked when she heard the wolf's pained scream and felt the sword vibrate as she sliced through flesh.  The brown wolf bared his teeth, as a second wolf, this one grey, charged out of the woods from the opposing side, this time going after Stormy.  Victoria expected Stormy to flee from her like any other horse would have, but instead he reared up on his hind legs and struck the wolf on its head with his front hoof.  The wolf lay on the ground, its skull crushed.

The brown wolf snarled, darted around and charged at her again, and this time it managed to sink its teeth into her leg.  As white hot pain filled her flesh, she let out a scream of agony but brought down the blade of the sword straight between the wolf's eyes.  The wolf let out a muffled groan and then fell to the ground at her feet, dead.  Victoria felt blood trickle down her leg.

Another pair of wolf eyes appeared at the edge of the wood, but this wolf did not advance.  Victoria waited, panting, sweaty, and shivering from pain, waiting for the wolf to spring out.  The wolf instead turned and fled into the underbrush.  Victoria silently waited for more wolves to appear, but she saw no more.

Victoria, shaking so bad she almost fell over, turned and headed toward her horse and wrapped her arms around his neck.  Blood ran down his right fetlock, but he appeared to be okay because he nuzzled her shoulder.

That was when she heard a loud, angry male voice.

"What on earth do you think you're doing, woman?"

Leon could not believe it.  After he left his estate, he had charged down the hill mid-transformation but had then heard the sound of a woman's cry and a wolf's squeal.  He had tracked the sounds here but had halted his transformation.  He wasn't sure what he had expected to find after hearing those odd sounds, but it wasn't this.

A lone young woman with curly hair the color of fire that was a tangled rat's nest stood clinging to a bloody grey horse.  There was a bloody sword at her side and the corpse of the aggressive brown wolf lay on the ground with his head broken open and blood and brains spilling through.  In front of the horse, the remains of a second wolf, one of the alpha male's grey followers, lay with his bloody face crushed in.  It was probably the horse's doing.

"There were wolves," the woman said.  "Wolves."

"I can see that."  Leon stepped toward the woman and frowned at her.  For the first time, he noticed that the bottom of her dress was soaked with blood.  "What are you doing here?  This path only goes up to my estate.  It's dangerous here."

Just as he reached for the woman, her horse did something he had never seen a horse do before to a human.  The horse reared up on his hind legs, mouth frothing, and attempted to club Leon's head with his hoof.  Leon dodged out of the way with time to spare with his superior senses as the woman attempted to pull at the reins of her horse.

"Stormy," she said.  "Stormy, easy boy.  What's the matter?  It's just a man.  Not a wolf.  It's okay."

"He's trying to protect you."  Leon frowned at the strange woman and her even stranger mount.

"He's never done this before," she said quietly, placing her hand on the horse's face.  "It must be the wolf attack.  He's shaken.  Please, sir, will you…will you help me?  My leg is hurt, and my horse was bitten too.  I'm sorry he reared at you."

It isn't good to get involved with a woman, especially one as beautiful as this.  You swore off any association with females a long time ago, after you were affected by this curse.  But as he stared at her worn, pale face and took in her bloodied sword and tattered dress, he realized he couldn't just leave her here, no matter how attractive she appeared to him.  It wasn't like she would be around for any length of time, and women were not poisonous, though he had treated them like they were in the past.

"Fine," he said.  "Just for now, though.  Come with me to my estate."

"Thank you, sir," Victoria said weakly, pulling the reins of her horse and then putting her sword back into her bag, the bloody blade uncleaned.  She then attempted to limp up the hill.  He surveyed her bad leg and grimaced.  Oh, hell, this woman can't climb my hill like this.  He bent down at the hip and glared at the woman.

"Climb on my back," he demanded.

"I'm quite all right."  She frowned at him.  "I can walk."

"You obviously can't."  He bent down so she could climb onto his back.  "Just quit being so stubborn."

The two of them glared at each other, and he began to feel ridiculous in his crouched position.  Finally, the woman sighed and stumbled toward him and then pulled her dress around her thighs.  She then wrapped her legs around his waist and he was able to stand up straight and get her situated.  Once she was upon his back, he was able to stare down at her leg, which now was no longer uncovered by dress.

The bite was deep, and he could make out where every one of the wolf's teeth had pierced her fine pale skin.  Furthermore, she hadn't said a word about the pain, even though a bite like that would have made even him growl and gripe.  This woman was not only beautiful, she was tough too.  The thought disturbed him if only because it made him respect and like her all at once.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

"The bite is deep," he said, stepping forward.

He noted that the woman still held the reins, even though her hands wrapped around his neck.  The horse followed behind them.

"I'm alive and that's all that matters."  The woman sighed.  "If it wasn't for Stormy killing that second wolf, I would have died because they would have come at me at once.  Most horses would have run away, but not him."

Silence fell and he tried not to focus on the woman's soft breasts burying into his back or the fact that her legs were revealed to him.  While the one leg was bloody, she still had a fine body and smooth, creamy skin.  He wondered how disgusting it made him that he thought about the woman's bosoms now when she was hurt.

"I'm Victoria, by the way," the woman said as he inwardly kicked himself.

"Leon," he grunted.

"Thank you for this."  She put her head on his back and let out a shaky sigh.  "To be honest, I wasn't sure what to do after I got attacked.  And poor Stormy…"

He frowned at his feet.  His question was, what was she doing heading down this road to begin with?  She had never answered that question.

"You shouldn't have been here," he said.  "What were you thinking?"

"You left a paper in the bar."  She gripped tighter onto his neck and almost choked him.  "You wanted a servant.  I was coming up here to see if I could have the job."

That almost made him choke.  Victoria was the exact opposite of what he wanted in a servant.  He wanted somebody he could have no attraction to whatsoever, a man or woman old and plain enough so he wouldn't have to worry about his urges getting in the way.  Plus, while the servant was there to aid him and ease his lonely heart, he also needed someone he could afford to lose.

"You can't have the job."  Leon shook his head violently and caused Stormy to snort.  "You're not what I'm looking for.  I'm bringing you up to my estate to clean your leg and that's all.  You'll spend the night and rest at most."

Once again, her hands tightened around his neck.

"Why not?" she asked indignantly.  "I'm a hard worker.  Have been all my life.  You couldn't ask for a better servant than me."

Well, at least she is strong enough so she can fight me.  He grimaced and gazed at his estate.  Almost there.  Ten more minutes of walking and then he could lock her in a room all night and shove her out the door the next morning.

"You aren't going to answer me?"  Her voice was shrill as she began to struggle.  More blood trickled from her leg.  "At least give me a response.  I can cook, I can clean, and I can wash clothes.  Plus, I'm desperate.  I'm willing to do nearly anything in order to get this job.  That has to count for something."

"It doesn't in my book," he frowned.  "Those aren't the qualities I'm looking for.  I'm searching for a manservant."

"A man?"  Her anger grew.  "Why on earth would you only want a man?"

"I don't want somebody I'm attracted to, all right?" he growled.  "Now if you want to keep your dignity intact, we should end this conversation now.  It is not for a lady's ears."

To his shock, she did fall silent, but the silence was just as hard to bear as her angry voice.  In the silence, he took more notice of her breasts thrust against his back and the heat of her thighs.  He shuddered and felt his cock react, and he tried to fight down the vision of Victoria lying on his bed with her legs open, showing off her gorgeous womanhood for the world to see.

The inside of the estate was filthy.  Rancid.  Disgusting.  Everywhere Victoria looked, there were cobwebs and dust.  No wonder Leon needed a servant.  Victoria was used to large estates because of Sir William, but she had grown accustomed to cleanliness.  Sir William never would have stood for such a mess to occur within his own home.

A grin crossed Leon's gorgeous face as he acknowledged her disgust.  "You don't like it?  Any servant I have would be forced to clean this place from top to bottom every day without complaint.  It's been a long time since it has seen a good cleaning."

Oh, good heavens, am I really desperate enough for a job to argue with him?  As she looked around the dust filled halls, she bit her bottom lip.  She fought down the desperate urge to sneeze and did her best to ignore the throbbing of her leg.

"Are you hungry?" Leon asked.  "Thirsty?  I fed your horse, now I suppose it's time for you.  And of course, I'll bandage your leg first."

The ale she had in town felt like ages ago.  "I'm famished."

Leon nodded, grabbed her arm, and began to lead her down the dust filled hallway.  Victoria swore she could see an upheaval of dirt appear behind her as she walked, but she chose not to acknowledge it.  To distract herself from her surroundings, she turned toward Leon, who was a lot like the house.  He was covered in a layer of grime, mystery, and darkness, but underneath that, she could tell there was a glorious being.

"What?"  Leon raised an eyebrow at her.

"Nothing."  She tore her eyes away.

Even after she peered away from him, she had Leon's face ingrained in her mind, his gorgeous dark brown hair and chin covered in a rough layer of hair, his gorgeous blue eyes which shone like pools of water and, of course, his strong body which had carried her all the way up here without breaking so much as a sweat.  I shouldn't think of him in such a way.  It is bad.  I'm either leaving here soon or I will become a servant if I can convince him I would make a good one.  He is right in saying that it would not be a good idea for us to become involved with each other.

Leon led her out the end of the hallway and into a room to the right, which was another hallway equally as dusty if not even more so.  That was when a sour stench assaulted her nostrils and she slowed her pace.  What is that odor?  She stole a concerned look at Leon and swore he grinned.  But why would he grin at such a smell?

At the end of the hall, Leon led her into the door to the left and straight into the kitchen where the heart of the bad odor was.  There was a mess of pots and pans everywhere covered in thick layers of sludge she assumed had once been food.  Victoria stifled a gasp and put her hand over her mouth in disgust.  The only thing edible lay out on the table.  It was a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, and some dried meat.  A plate with crumbs lay on the table but had not been taken away.

"It is filthy," Leon said cheerfully.  "See.  You don't want anything to do with me or this job.  I am horrible."

His cheerfulness annoyed her.  She realized what he was doing.  He was trying to make it so she would stop pressuring him about the job.  Well, tough.  She still wanted it anyway.

"I could clean it," she said, and watched the smile slide off of Leon's face.  "I could do it easily.  All this place needs is a good scrub down."

"Hmmph," Leon said.

There was once again silence between them, and Victoria tried hard to fight down the water which filled her eyes because of the awful stench.  Leon must have been so used to it that he didn't care, because he led her over to a chair and she sat down.

"Lift up your skirt," he said.  "Let me see your leg."

She hesitated at his demand but then thought, the man has seen it already.  What is the point of being careful now?  She lifted up her skirts and showed him her leg.  He bent down and frowned at the gaping wound.

"I am going to get water for you," he said, grimacing at the sight of the injury.  "I'll go get a tin of it and be back to clean your leg."

"That's fine."  She blinked at him tiredly.

With a grunt, he turned and went toward one of the kitchen shelves and retrieved a metal tin.  He then headed for the door.

What is with that woman? Leon thought as he walked over to the river which ran by his estate.  He bent down and allowed water to fill the tin and then straightened up again.  He had thought that leading her into the kitchen was the thing he needed to make her want to leave his house as soon as possible.  The kitchen was noxious.  With his superior smell, he could make out the rotting stench even from his bedroom all the way at the other side of his estate.  He was used to his servant cleaning the kitchen, though, and he hated scrubbing dishes more than anything else.

With an annoyed grunt, he spun around and headed back for the door to head inside.  Once he entered the kitchen, he heard the loud sound of guttural snoring and stopped in his tracks.  There, with her head in her arms on his table, sat Victoria, her hair covering the dirty plate and his cheese lump.  As he watched, Victoria let out another manly snore which filled the kitchen.  He couldn't help himself then – he chuckled.  How could such a small, beautiful creature let out such ugly snores?

I suppose one night will be all right.  I did say I might let her stay.  After walking over to the table, he placed the tin by the plate and then put his hand on top of Victoria's back and put his other hand underneath her knees.  With a grunt, he lifted her bridal style and then stared into her face as she let out more manly snores.  A line of drool ran down her red lips and he winced.  Yet there was something oddly attractive about her, even when she snored like an old man and drooled like livestock over feed.

As he began to walk, Victoria murmured, "Dad?  Daddy, where are you taking me?"

He watched her and continued to walk.  A tear streaming down her face made him stop short.

"Daddy…so sorry…" Victoria groaned.

He didn't know why she cried, but he didn't like it.

 

Sir William hovered hidden in the hallway of the inn as a familiar voice could be heard downstairs.  It was Cecile's.  With his heart beating in excitement, he inched down the hallway and then leaned against the wall, staring down.  The plump innkeeper, Michael, spoke to Cecile with a frown on his face.  Next to Cecile stood a man he had never seen before.  Sir William knew exactly who he was.  He was Cecile's new fiancé.

"You wish for a room?" Michael asked, eyebrow raised.

Cecile nodded and passed him a coin.  She ran a hand through her blonde hair and then sighed and passed a worried look at her fiancé.

"One moment."  Michael frowned, scratching his red beard.  "I will get you the key.  The second room on the left will be yours."

After turning, Michael disappeared from beyond the desk and went into a back room.  Cecile and her new fiancé turned toward one another.  Cecile's fiancé frowned at her.

"You don't have to stay at a hotel, Cecile."  He crossed his arms.

"Dawson, we spoke on this," Cecile said.  "I wish to keep my virtue until our night of wedded bliss, and if we sleep under the same roof, unholy carnal passions will arise.  One more week and then we can be together."

"When we went to tell my parents of our betrothal, we slept under the same roof."  Dawson frowned.  "We did not touch each other then."

"We had escorts when we were together at all times," she said.  "Please, Dawson, allow me this.  I beg of you.  I can't trust myself around you.  I know I would give in to the Devil and be in your bed within seconds."

After Dawson gave a begrudging nod, Cecile wrapped her arms around his waist and then put her head against his chest.  He wrapped his arms around her and patted her head.  Too easy.  This is all going to be too easy.  Sir William's face broke into a grin at the thought of having Cecile right next door to him.

"This would all be so much easier if I could just stay at my old home until our wedding night," Cecile sighed.  "That blasted man, Sir William.  Because of him, my daughter can't even see our wedding."

Blasted man.  He ground his teeth.  I'll show her blasted man.  Maybe I'll beat her a little before I threaten her into telling me where Victoria is.  He had never liked Cecile.  Too weak.  Too breakable.  She had melted without her husband.  Victoria would be harder to break and thus, more fun to conquer.  A slow grin crossed his face as he held back an excited groan.

Michael came back with a large metal key in his hand.

"I lock all doors if nobody is staying in them," Michael said.  "I also lock the doors of the residence after seven o'clock and unlock them again at sunrise."

"I appreciate that, Michael," Dawson said.  "It will keep my betrothed safe."

Eyeballing Dawson, Michael said, "I am a good, Catholic man, and I believe in holy matrimony.  I do not like any funny business under my roof.  Now I shall bring your fiancé up to her room.  You may escort her too, if you wish.  But I do not allow unmarried patrons to stay under the same roof unless they are of the same sex."

Once again, Dawson nodded.  Sir William cursed, spun around, and entered his room again.  He heard the sound of groaning on the stairs and heard muffled talking as Dawson and Michael spoke.  He wished Michael wasn't so thorough about his innkeeper job.  Why was it his business if a couple of unmarried townspeople had a fling under his roof?  Still, something good had happened that he did not expect.  Cecile would be under the same roof as he for the next week, which meant she was an easy target.  All he had to do was wait and listen.

***

That night, Leon lay in his bed on his side, fighting down the urges which erupted in his belly.  He could picture Victoria in bed next to him in nothing but a sheer white nightgown, her perky nipples straining the lace fabric and her hair draped around her like a veil.  This was exactly why it was a bad idea to have a woman in his estate with him.  Yes, he oftentimes felt the hand of devilish arousal at night and he relieved himself to thoughts of fat breasts and soaked cunts, but he didn't ever add a real woman's face to the images.  Normally, they were just empty dreams.

As Leon gripped the bed, he continued to imagine Victoria next to him, shutting her eyes and arching her back and massaging her own pink, hard nipples.  His imaginary Victoria let out a low, throaty groan as she tweaked the pink coins of her breasts and then squirmed in ecstasy.  The fantasy became so intense that he could swear he could smell wet pussy in the room and his cock bulged in his night pants.

Swearing and knowing he had to relieve himself or spend the night walking around the castle in a nervous state, Leon reached down and put his hands in his pants.  He then pulled them down so they were just over his ass and his large, fat, swollen cock over his two fist-sized balls were out in the open air.  He reached down and grasped his veiny cock in his hand and tightened his grip, groaning.  As he moved his hand hard over his shaft, he continued to imagine Victoria.

His imaginary Victoria continued to tweak her right nipple with one hand as she reached down between her wet legs with the other.  As she put her hand between her thighs and rubbed the surface of her dark brown, furry cunt, he could hear every movement she made because of her sticky juices.  He groaned and pumped harder at his cock and imagined Victoria arching her back and then smiling at him with her large, vibrant green eyes.  She then stopped tweaking her nipple and reached down between her legs with her other hand too.

Victoria spread her legs further, showing him every last bit of her cunt.  Dark auburn curls flowed over two fat, bulging lips that were damp from her excitement.  She reached down between her lips and toyed with them with her right hand, revealing that what was inside of her cunt's lips was an even darker shade of pink, and he longed to bury his face in them and kiss them.

With her index finger, imaginary Victoria entered her hole and began to pump into herself, once again making that same beautiful "Schlick, schlick" sound.  She cried out at her own thrusting and once again arched her back, making her gorgeous breasts strain the fabric of her gown.  As Victoria pumped into herself with her right hand, she played with the risen cleft at the opening of her pussy with her left hand.  She then let out a shaky moan and he did too, feeling his balls pulse at the imagery in his own mind.

Victoria began to grip her cunt's hair, and she groaned and gasped as if it was he who touched her and not her who touched herself.  Her legs trembled and caused the bed to vibrate.  Then, with a slow, sly grin, she withdrew her right hand from her hole, drew her hand up to her lips and inserted her sticky fingers into her mouth.  She shut her eyes and smiled in ecstasy as she tasted herself.

That was all Leon could take and his balls pulsed as he blew his load all over the sheets.  He stared at the empty space on the bed where he had imagined Victoria touching herself, and he let out a shaky sigh.  God, that was fast.  It was probably because it had been so long since he had touched himself at all.  There wasn't much erotic about cold brick and old, hairy servants.

But there was something erotic about the goddess in his house, Victoria.

***

Sir William didn't sleep all night.  He kept himself awake having visions of Victoria and wherever she was.  She's a whore.  If she was willing to abandon you, then she probably is willing to bed other men, too.  I'll break her of that habit soon enough.  The thought made him grit his teeth and let out an angry sigh.  Victoria, Victoria, Victoria.  She was his own curse and savior, rolled into one.

As Sir William imagined her curled up in the arms of another man, he heard the sound of the door opening in the room across from his.  Cecile was finally out.  Sir William leapt to his feet and then walked toward the door.  He opened it and snuck up behind Cecile, who stood at the foot of the stairs prepared to go down them.  With a growl, he pressed his hand over her mouth and then hauled her backward, into the hallway.  He felt Cecile's hot breath on his palm and the pressure of her scream.

While Sir William hauled her backward, Cecile kicked and drew back her arm, elbowing him in his stomach and knocking the air from him.  He gulped and gasped, running into the wall with a loud "thud."  He still managed, however, to keep a firm grip on Cecile's face with his hand.  Cecile opened her mouth and sunk her teeth into his pointer finger, making him give a roar of pain and rage as her bite burned his hand.

"Let me go," Cecile said.  "Unhand me this instant, you monster.  Michael.  Michael, please come quick.  Michael."

Sir William seized her by her waist and pulled her into his room as she screamed and thrashed.  There was the sound of thudding downstairs and then loud grunting.  That blasted, overprotective hotel keeper.  Swearing, Sir William pushed Cecile onto the bed, straddled her, and stared down at her pale face which appeared a lot like Victoria's except more wrinkled.  After he captured Cecile, he had intended to question her before hurting her, but with Michael charging up the stairs like an angered ram, he had to act fast.

Drawing back his fist, he hit Cecile across the face with a "crack" and his knuckle pulsed with pain from the blow.  Cecile's head tilted to the left and her mouth opened, revealing bloodied teeth.  She was unconscious and showed no signs of moving.

"Good," Sir William said darkly as the sound of footsteps carried up the stairs.

"What is going on?" Michael roared.  Sir William heard Michael open Cecile's door across the hall and frowned, panting, as he grabbed the heavy metal lamp at his bedside and then lunged over to his own door to wait behind it.

As Sir William waited, he thought, I won't let anyone stand between me and Victoria.  Not this hotelkeeper, not her mother, no one.  Victoria belongs to me.  She is mine.  My property.  There was the sound of heavy breathing as Michael ran out of Cecile's room and rushed over to Sir William's room.  Michael opened the door and then leapt inside, his eyes wild and his fists balled at his sides.

"You Devil's fiend, what have–"

Sneaking up behind him, Sir William raised the heavy metal lamp and then brought it down onto the back of Michael's head with a loud "thud."  Michael groaned, fell to his knees, and clutched his skull where blood trickled down the back of his neck.  I didn't hit him hard enough.  Gritting his teeth, Sir William drove the heavy lamp against the back of Michael's head again as hard as he could with a dull thud.  Blood splattered on Sir William's face as Michael's skull caved inward.

Something came over Sir William.  The blood, the feeling of driving the lamp against someone's skull, and hearing the "crunch," made a rush of pleasure fill him.  Sir William began to drive the lamp against Michael's skull again and again, causing blood to splatter his face and the walls with every hit.  His breathing grew ragged with excitement as the taste of iron filled his mouth.

During that moment, as Sir William turned Michael's skull into stew and his head became unrecognizable as a human's skull, new thoughts began to form.  He knew how he could possess Victoria so much more fully now.

"Thud." He brought the lamp down against Michael's head.

He imagined holding onto Victoria's neck, watching her face go pale and her eyes bulge from her sockets.  He would stop before he killed her, but this time, that violence would not be enough.

"Thud."  Once again, he used the lamp and sent it on its deadly path.

He would run a knife along Victoria's perfect flesh and watch the glorious blood spill.

"Thud."  He clubbed Michael's shoulder and heard the bones crunch.

After that, he would force Victoria to have sex with him.  When he was done with her, he would take her down to his basement and chain her to his wall.

"Thud."  Now he hit Michael's back with the lamp and his body jumped.

After he had chained her to the wall, he would torture her.  He would impale her with knives and watch blood pour.

"Thud."  He broke Michael's leg with the lamp.

Just as Sir William was on the verge of being immersed in another twisted Victoria fantasy, Cecile groaned and opened her eyes.  A trickle of blood ran down the side of her mouth as she drew back her hand and touched her forehead.  She winced and then turned and gazed at him.

All the remaining color drained from her face as she saw him, and for the first time he turned to stare at the blood splattered mirror upon the wall.  He was sweaty and his hair was in disarray, and he was covered head to toe in blood and held a bloody lamp in his hand.  He stood over Michael's destroyed corpse.

In that moment, he felt powerful.  The picture of himself frozen and bloody was so glorious he wanted to capture it forever, maybe have a portrait painted so he would never forget.  A twisted grin crossed his face, but the moment was ruined when Cecile threw back her head and began to let out loud, terrified screams again.  Swearing, he dropped the lamp on the ground and then leapt at Cecile and straddled her, putting his hand over her hot lips.  His palm muffled the sound, but once again Cecile attempted to bite him.  Luckily, he removed his hand just in time.

In his anger, he wrapped his hands around Cecile's frail neck and pressed down, gazing at her pale face.  Panicked, Cecile gasped in a choked attempt to breathe, and grasped the bedspread between her thin, long fingers.

"You will be quiet now," he said.  "You will be quiet so I can tie you up, do you understand me?"

Cecile's face became blue and pleasure once again filled him.  Every bit of his brain screamed, "More! More! More!" but he knew he would never find Victoria if he continued this.  He would have this pleasure all in good time, after he had discovered Victoria's location.

He released Cecile's neck and gazed into her face.  A hurried, panicked gasp left her throat as she stared up at him in horror.  The expression on her face was so beautiful it made him smile.  God, I can drink in that fear.  It's beautiful.  He felt like he could get her to tell him whatever he wanted to know.  And he would do just that, but first he had to get rid of this body and then get Cecile to someplace quiet, someplace where they wouldn't be interrupted.

 

The next morning, Victoria groaned and felt her leg throb as she opened her eyes.  It took her a long time to figure out where she was.  The room appeared dark, cold, and dirty.  She lay on top of a silk purple bed which appeared as if somebody had attempted to give it a fast cleaning but failed.  There was a glass pitcher at her bedside that was filled with clean water, which led her to believe it was recent and had been left there by Leon in case she grew thirsty in the middle of the night.  There was a glass next to it.

The unspoken concern made her heart feel warm, but she did not concentrate on that long.  All she could think about was the throbbing pain in her leg.  She pulled up her dress and stared down at the wound, frowning at what she saw.  The outside of the wound was covered in a dark red ring, and when she touched the middle of it, she noted the wound was sticky to the touch and was also hot.  What is this?  Her eyes widened.  She had never seen a wound get like this before, and she had been a wild child who had gotten injured all the time playing in the bramble and falling out of trees.

Victoria got off of the bed and put her arms to her sides to balance.  She was able to balance all right, but instead of her leg feeling better when she attempted to walk on it, it only got worse.  Every step she took, hot pain traveled through her lower leg all the way up to her thigh.  Shuddering, she gazed down at the red wound and grasped the bedside table.

I have to be tough about this.  A wound has never affected me like this before.  But the more she walked, the more worried she got.  Leon had promised her one night here, and unless she managed to convince him to let her be his servant, she was going to have to make it down the mountain.  She would have to choose between three miles of walking or riding Stormy, which meant an hour of her leg rubbing against brittle, dirty horse fur.  Even the idea made her shudder.

No, I need this job.  I am going to convince Leon to let me be his servant and then there will be no wild ride down the mountain.  She squared her back in determination and limped toward the door.  She was not the type of woman who gave up easily, and she most certainly wasn't the type of woman who let a bite get to her.

After she had made it to the hallway and shut the door behind her, her leg throbbed again and she winced, gasped, and tried to ignore it.

"Leon," she said.  "Leon, are you in any of these rooms?"

Her voice echoed in the cold hallway.  As she looked around, waiting for an answer, she realized how cold and lonely Leon's estate was.  She wouldn't want to live here by herself, even if it was clean.  Now that she had a night's rest and her head was less jumbled with wolf filled thoughts, she recognized that the house stank not only of a physical stench – it stank of loneliness and depression.  It was too easy to imagine Leon pacing these halls by himself, his face sour and his mood dark.

But that only gave her more cause to want to be his servant.  She could paint herself in the picture, grabbing Leon's arm and keeping him company.  But alas, that was only her imagination.  They had known each other very little and yet she was already putting herself in his world.  No wonder he didn't want her as a servant.  She was getting too personal.  Shaking her head, she walked forward, toward where Leon had led her yesterday.

When she was in the next hallway and neared the kitchen, she heard the sound of banging and clanking.  She hastened her step, limping in pain every time her foot hit the ground, and then opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.  She did a double-take in surprise at the transformation the kitchen had gone through.

The soiled dishes were gone, as was the rank scent.  The table was clean and all of the spoiled foodstuffs were put away.  On the table, there were two plates across from one another with forks and knives.  A loaf of crusty bread next to a hunk of butter and a jar of strawberry preserves sat on the table.  Leon stood by the counter, cleaning a last dish with a brown cloth.  When he turned around, he stiffened and his eyes dropped to her leg.  He sniffed the air like some sort of primal animal and headed toward her.  The serious, intense expression he wore caused her to back up against the wall.

"What is the matter with your leg?" Leon asked at once.

"What do you mean?" she asked.  "I got bitten yesterday.  It's fine."

"Let me see the wound.  Now."

Leon seized the bottom of her skirt and began to pull at her gown.  Heat filled her face as she had a flash of Sir William forcing her over his table until she hit him over the head with his golden goblet.  No, no, no.  In her frightened state, she kicked Leon as hard as she could between his legs and felt her foot come in contact with his soft balls.  He let out a loud groan and fell to his knees at her feet, holding himself.  Victoria stared down at him, not wanting to apologize because he had ripped at her skirt without asking and yet feeling guilty because she was sure he had only done so out of concern for her leg.  It was as if he had smelled that the wound was devilish.

***

Pain.

That was the only thing Leon felt between his legs for several minutes as he cupped his cock and balls as tears of pain filled his eyes.  Of all the places that blasted woman could have kicked, it had to have been there.  He leaned forward, pressed his head against the cold floor, and breathed.

Finally, the pain began to fade and was now a dull ache instead.  He exhaled a shaky sigh as he was allowed to think again.  That wretched woman, kicking me.  I looked at her legs all day yesterday and she had no complaints then.  It was not as if I was going to ravage her. Yet he had ripped at her skirts and dreamed about ravaging her the night before.  The feeling that he had deserved this mingled with the physical pain.

As he staggered to his feet, Victoria still hovering before him with a horrified and guilty expression on her face, he once again sniffed the air, catching the odor which had made him rush to her in the first place.  It was ten times worse than the stink of his kitchen had been.  It smelled like an odd mixture between stale chicken noodle soup and rotting flesh.  The wound was not normal.  Cursed, even.

The two of them locked eyes but neither of them said anything.

Finally, Victoria said, "Leon, are you…all right?"

Leon nodded slowly.  His balls still ached, but it was manageable.  "What about you?"

Victoria bit her bottom lip.  "Well, I…My leg is strange, but I really shouldn't show it to you."

"Oh, go on."  Leon sat down.  "Last night, you showed it to me many times, and today you started off our breakfast by kicking me where only a wife should touch.  I doubt you have anything to worry about, keeping your virtue and all that.  My man parts probably won't work for a week after the injury you gave me."

Though she did not apologize, her expression was apologetic.  She then bent down and began to tug at her dress until it bunched around her knee.  The bite wound was the size of his hand.  Yesterday, when it was bloody and messy, he didn't think it could get much worse, but he had been wrong.  Today it was worse.  The skin surrounding the wound was dark red and he could tell it was wet at the top.  At the upper right side where one of the bigger fangs had pierced Victoria's skin, yellow ooze began to flow from it.  Swearing, he bent down in front of the wound and placed his hand next to the skin.  Though Victoria gasped and her leg twitched, she did not pull away from him.  He respected her for that and only gently touched the hot skin on the outside of the injury.

What is this madness?  Is this a form of the plague?  I should send her from my house today, just like I had planned to do.  But when he looked up into Victoria's large eyes and pale face, the idea of sending her away to no one was even worse than the kick to his balls.

"This isn't good."  He ran his thumb on the hot skin on the outside of the wound.  "This bite radiates heat.  This isn't a normal wound."

"I know," Victoria shuddered.  "It aches like an abnormal wound too.  I was bitten by a dog as a child, but it was nothing like this."

Once again, both of them were silent.  Even during this moment, peering up into Victoria's face made his heart pound and images of his fantasies from last night filled his head…Victoria, her back arched and her hair covering the pillows…Victoria, her legs spread as she inserted her fingers into herself.  He tore his eyes away and let out an aggravated sigh.

See what comes of going to town?  If you hadn't, this woman never would have gotten bitten and you would be free like you always were.  His jaw tightened and he straightened up.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" Leon asked stiffly.  "I should send you away right now.  This wound could infect me too.  It's dangerous."

Her eyes widened in fear.  It was like staring into two glistening ponds, and he hated the idea that such a sad expression was his fault.  I can't send her away.  I can't.  But what about the full moon?  He chased the thought about the full moon aside.  It didn't matter.  He may have been cold toward the townspeople, but he wasn't heartless.  If he forced Victoria out of his estate now, she would die.  He would have to allow her to stay until her wound healed, even if it meant she infected him with her strange illness.  He had already killed his brother.  He wasn't going to add this woman to his list of casualties.

"You can stay," Leon said, his voice tight.  "But I will not hire you as a servant.  It is not right for you.  Once you are of good health again, you must take your horse and leave my estate.  Do you understand?"

At once, her fear-filled green eyes brightened with relief, and she stepped forward and crushed him to her chest.  He could feel her entire body at that moment – her supple breasts, her child bearing hips, her smooth, flat stomach.  His heart quickened further and he gently pushed her away before he could react by doing something unintelligent like holding her tighter.  Getting attached to Victoria would only cause him pain in the end when he forced her to leave, and he would, too.  It was for her own good.

"Thank you so much for this."  Victoria grabbed his hand and pressed it to her fat breasts.

He nodded solemnly.  "I'm sending a letter to a doctor I know named Dr. Manheim.  He should be here within a couple days' time.  I hope the wound heals by then, but if it doesn't, I prefer to have him here."

Her eyes widened.  "A doctor?  He will likely think the two of us, an unmarried man and woman, are…"

A blush filled her cheeks, and he once again had an erotic image of her legs spread, pussy dripping wet as she thrust her fingers into herself.  He easily imagined her putting her fingers in her mouth and sucking them.  He shook his head and grunted before his imagination got carried away.

"Dr. Manheim will not say anything to anyone."  The doctor had proven himself worthy of his werewolf secret, as had his father before him who was also a doctor.  "We do not have to worry about the man's waggling tongue in this case."

She appeared relieved.

***

Sir William did not know who the cabin on the outskirts of the town belonged to, but he could tell from the excess dust that it had not been used in a long time.  The door had been unlocked when he had come upon it, too, and there was no life inside except for a couple of fat rats patrolling for nonexistent food.  Cecile was tied to a chair with thick pieces of rope with tears streaming down her blood encrusted face.  Sweat dampened her gown as she quivered and sobbed.

"You shouldn't have allowed your daughter to leave me."  Sir William paced in front of Cecile, who shuddered as she gazed at him with her large eyes.  "Why couldn't you have remained a poor widow, huh?  If you had, this wouldn't be happening and Victoria would still be mine."

"Victoria was never yours," Cecile glared at him.  "My daughter belongs to herself, not to you.  And even if I had not married, I would have urged her to leave you.  You are an evil man, the spawn of the devil who–"

Drawing back his hand, Sir William hit Cecile across the face with his fist, causing his knuckle to burn.  With a cry of pain, the chair tilted to the left and fell, and she cried out in pain.  Sir William smiled at her shriek.

"You deserved that."  Sir William bent down and heaved the chair upright.  "You are such a self-righteous creature.  So was your husband.  It felt so good to kill him."

Cecile went rigid.

"You didn't know that, did you?"  A low chuckle escaped his throat.  "What was it my doctor told you?  An illness?  Yes, it was an illness, I suppose.  An illness caused by my poison given by my hand.  It was just too easy to figure out where you bought your bread.  All it took was just the right amount of convincing, and your husband received a sample from the friendly baker woman."

"You, you monster," Cecile struggled, her eyes narrowed with anger.  "You killed my husband?  Why?  He was the most decent, hardworking person in the entire world, and you killed him.  Do you know what losing him did to Victoria?  Do you know how much my daughter has suffered?"

"I know how much your weakness made Victoria suffer."  Sir William grinned at her.  "I know how you shriveled up without him.  I know how you were so weak she had to come crawling to me.  I sensed your weakness the moment I saw you, and that was how I knew my plan would work.  Hotheaded Victoria, just like her father, and her weak, soft little mother who wouldn't know how to survive without her husband to hold her hand.  It was easy."

"No," Cecile said.

"Yes."  Sir William straightened up and loomed over her.  "That was exactly how it was, and that is exactly how it is now, which is why you are going to tell me where Victoria is.  I know you know her whereabouts."

Cecile's lips tightened and she shook her head.

Drawing back his hand, Sir William hit her again, and she screamed and the chair wobbled.  Cecile, sobbing, spit up blood and it dribbled down her chin and onto her skirt.

"Tell me where Victoria is," Sir William threatened Cecile with his fist.

In response, Cecile spit into Sir William's face.  With a howl of anger, he wiped it from his shut eyes and then swore.  He could taste the blood that had been on her lips.  Shaking his head in anger, he thrashed.  When he finally opened his eyes, he gazed at Cecile with every bit of malice which bubbled beneath his skin.  He wanted to break Cecile, just like he had watched his father do to his own mother.  He wanted to observe her squirm for what she had done to him.  See her punished.  That was his way.

Drawing back his hand, he once again hit Cecile across the face and spit flew.  He hit her again and again.  With every wail she released, his breath left his chest in excited flurries.  He knew that by tomorrow he would have no double where Victoria was.  And Cecile would be dead, hanging from the ceiling.

***

Victoria and Leon sat inside her room, which she had managed to clean up yesterday, despite her aching leg.  Leon sat at her side on the bed, holding a bowlful of hot water and a rag.  The rag steamed after he dipped it in the water, and Victoria wondered whether Leon had left the water alone for long enough after boiling.  Maybe there was going to be a burn added to her injury.  The thought made her grimace.

"It's all right," Leon said, as if reading her thoughts.  "It's hot, but it should only sting a little."

Grimacing, Victoria nodded.  She knew it would hurt.  The question was, how much.

Leon tugged the dress higher around her knees and revealed the swollen wound which had begun to become more pus-filled every night.  Where the fangs had touched skin, pus oozed outward.  The wound was still slimy and wet.  Leon gazed at the wound and wrinkled his nose as if he could smell it, which was impossible because she couldn't smell anything.

"You ready?"  Leon gazed at her with a pitying expression, which only made her want to be strong for him.

"Yes," Victoria nodded.

Lowering the rag, Leon's jaw tightened.  The moment the hot rag covered the wound, she arched her back and threw back her head.  She bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming as the wound ached, but she could not hold back a muffled moan.  It wouldn't have hurt more if that rag had been a prod for searing tattoos onto animals.  She gripped the bedspread between her hands.

"It's all right," Leon soothed as he moved the rag over her wound.  "It will be all right."

His voice filled her ears like an angelic choir, and she found herself believing him.  Yes, she realized, it would be all right.  Of course it would.  She shuddered and sighed.  How was it that she trusted this man so much after just a day?  As she forced her eyes open, still clutching the bed as her leg ached, she watched as Leon lifted the rag and revealed that it was dirty with blood, yellow pus, and brown gunk which she guessed was dirt and possibly poison from the wolf's teeth.

That was what it had to have been, after all.  When she traveled to seek Leon, that wolf wasn't actually a wolf, but was actually the devil, and he had gotten to her.  Maybe God had allowed this to happen because of her misdeed with Sir William.  If that was the case, she had no one to blame but herself.

Leon dipped the rag into the water again, knocking her from her thoughts, and she saw the dirt and gunk from the rag swept away by the hot water.  When he pulled out the rag, it was clean and steaming again.  He gazed at her, giving her a questioning stare, and she nodded her head and shut her eyes.  Once again, Leon placed the rag over her wound and continued to clean it, though it filled her with agony.  Every movement felt as if a saw was digging into her muscle and tearing it to pieces.

Lord, Lord, Lord.  She shook her head, bunching the blankets between her hands, and then she felt Leon's free hand grasp her own.  When she opened her eyes, she saw that his eyes were not on the wound where the rag was, but on her face.  She flipped over her hand so it was palm up and he grasped it, entangling his fingers in her own.  As they held hands, he continued to clean her wound with the rag.

It hurts so badly, yet I still feel so much more than pain.  I have never felt like this about anyone – my heart pounds and yearns, and I feel like I'm on fire.  She grasped Leon's hand harder and gazed at him, feeling her heart warm.  As he gazed back into her eyes, he gasped as if shocked, though she had no idea why.

Victoria stared at him with such intensity it made his heart and groin ache.  Though the smell of the wound was disgusting, there was nothing disgusting about Victoria or her bright eyes.  If he wasn't who he was – a cursed werewolf – he would have courted her and perhaps married her.  But not now.  The thought filled him with sadness and the only thing that pulled him from Victoria's lily pad eyes was the smell of the infected wound.

He couldn't help but wonder if the wound she had received was a message for him from up above.  A wolf had bitten her, after all, and the bite now oozed with poison which tore her apart from the inside out.  Maybe it was a sign that he was never meant to be with a human woman.  The thought sickened him, though he reminded himself that God need not have warned him by destroying an innocent woman's leg.  He had never intended to marry a woman to begin with.  The curse had hurt him enough without him placing such a burden on someone he loved.

Shaking his head to clear it from his depressed thoughts, he withdrew the rag, now sticky with red and yellow goop which smelled so sour his eyes watered for a moment, and then he dipped it into the steaming hot bucket and waited.  A moment later, he pulled out the hot rag and once again put the rag against her leg.  Victoria groaned and let out a shaky sigh, and he glanced at her face and felt pity and something more – deep affection.

The feeling was unwelcome.

***

Cecile had not told him where Victoria was, and that angered Sir William to no end.  As he stared down at Cecile, his face tense and his bloodied hands balled, his heart pounded in rage.  He thought this was the easy part.  He thought all he would have to do was threaten Cecile, and she would crumble like a house without a foundation.

But instead, Cecile sat, bloody and sweaty, with her face swollen and covered in bruises.  Her hair was matted with crimson and her mouth hung open, revealing that she missed teeth in the front after he had struck her down.  Sir William paced back in forth in front of Cecile, wondering what other tortures he could give her that would not kill her.  He could tell by the way she trembled and her breath left her chest in shaky gasps that she was close to dying, and he could not afford to have the woman die when she knew where Victoria was.

"Where is Victoria?" Sir William asked for the thousandth time, his voice shaking with anger.  "Tell me.  Now."

"I do not know where Victoria is."  Cecile shuddered and shook.  "She did not tell me where she went.  She took her horse and left.  That is all I know."

"Then maybe I shall kill you," Sir William boomed.

When Sir William stormed toward her, his fist raised again, Cecile flinched and groaned, but still did not tell him where Victoria was.  His hand dropped to his side and his jaw tensed in anger.  A horrifying thought struck him.  Maybe the reason why Cecile was withholding information was not because she was stronger than he had thought, but because she truly did not know where Victoria was.

Would Victoria really leave without telling her mother where she was going?  All the time Sir William had lain with Victoria, she would talk of her mother, sometimes with tears in her eyes.  When she had spoken of her mother, it had annoyed Sir William to no end and he would grab Victoria's face, plunge his tongue into her mouth, and then burrow his cock between her thighs until her breath left her body in quick gasps.

But if Victoria herself didn’t know where she was going, only that she was leaving, she would not tell her mother.  The realization made him sick because that was a setback in his plan.  He wanted to rush to Victoria, find her now, and punish her mercilessly for what she had done to him.  Angry, Sir William turned toward Cecile, gritting his teeth.

"Tell me the last words Victoria said to you," he said angrily.

Cecile stared at him, blood flowing down the side of her head and mingling with that which was already dried and crusted.

"She said…she said…"  A blank expression covered her face.  "She said I should be careful with Dawson.  That is all."

"You're lying."  Sir William drew back his hand and hit Cecile over the head again.  Blood splattered at the touch from a previous wound.  "Tell me, you despicable creature, where Victoria is.  What did she last say to you?"

Sadness crossed Cecile's face.  "She said she would write to me.  She said she would tell me where she is when she got there.  That's all I know.  I swear it.  I swear to God."

More tears poured down her face and mingled with the wet blood.  Sir William grinned, stepped forward, and wrapped his hand around her blood and sweat dampened neck and squeezed.  Cecile made a soft squeak as he caressed her head, and he could feel her shake, which pleased him.  He could smell her fear.  Taste it.

"Shhh, now."  Sir William shut his eyes as he imagined Victoria on his bed, her thighs parted again.  Naked.  Blissfully naked and soon to be overpowered.  "You did well, Cecile.  You did very well.  I promise I won't strike you again if you help me with something else."

At least, not until it comes time for me to kill you.  He tightened his grip around her neck and she made a mouse-like sound.

"I want you, Cecile, to lure out your dear Dawson," Sir William said.  "I have become accustomed to a finer state of living, and I want his house while I await Victoria's sweet letters."

Cecile shook harder and then groaned.  "What are you going to do to my daughter?" she asked fearfully.

"I just have a feeling that she is going to be quick to rush to your aid when she finds out her mother and fiancé are kidnapped."  Sir William threw back his head and laughed.  "I will very much enjoy writing the letter demanding her to come home, or else you and your betrothed shall die."

***

As Leon placed his hand on Victoria's sweating forehead, he frowned and shook his head.  Her forehead was boiling hot and covered in a layer of sweat.  When Victoria gazed at him, there was a glassy veil over her eyes now, as if she was unsure of where she was or even who she was.  Leon pulled the blankets that draped around her shoulders further up around her neck and then released a shaky sigh.  Poor beautiful Victoria.  He got up but then felt her hand wrap around his wrist and he paused.

When Leon peered down, he saw Victoria gazing up at him with wide eyes and it took his breath away.  She was so beautiful, Victoria, even when she was pale and sweaty.  The doctor should be here soon.  I just hope he can cure this evil inside of her.  I hope he can get rid of what horrible curse this wolf has cast upon her.

"Don't leave me," Victoria said, breaking through his thoughts.  "My leg throbs and I feel so hot.  Please, just stay."

Leon, heart pounding, nodded, and then sat down beside her, holding her frail hand.

"What can I do to help you, Victoria?" Leon asked.  "I am afraid there is not much I can do for you now, till the doctor comes."

Victoria sighed and then rolled onto her side and balanced her head on the crook of her arm.  With a frown, she gazed at him with an intense spark in her eye and then traced the veins in his hand, causing him to exhale a sigh.  The touch felt amazing, sending shots of pleasure throughout his body.  Just one touch and Victoria had him completely under his command.  He hadn't realized how much he longed for a woman's touch until she arrived.

"Tell me a story, Leon," Victoria said.

"A story?"  He raised an eyebrow.  "What do you mean?  What kind of story?"

"Just distract me from the pain in my leg."  Victoria bit her bottom lip as she continued to trace the veins running under Leon's skin.  "Please.  If you don't want to tell me a real story, then make something up."

A story.  The request surprised him.  He had many stories and many memories, but most of them reminded him of his old family and made his heart hurt upon thinking about them.

Victoria changed her focus from his hand to his face and gave him a desperate look.  "Please, Leon.  Please."

"Oh, all right."  Leon sighed.  "I had a brother once.  The two of us were really close.  His name was Devin, and I swear, he was my shadow.  We did everything together.  A couple of days after Christmas, my family and I ate dinner at my estate.  My mother was already dead at the time.  She had grown ill and passed a year before, and it was just my father, my brother, and me.  I wanted to go play by the lake that's a kilometer away from this estate, but my father said no.  He didn't give me a reason, so I took it upon myself to defy him.  Naturally, my brother came along too."

"Oh, no," Victoria said, her eyes wide.  It was as if he was telling the most gut wrenching story in the world, and not his own memory.  "That isn't good."

"It wasn't."  A small smile crossed Leon's face.  "The two of us went down to the lake.  At first, I was perfectly happy pelting my brother with snowballs and watching him squirm, but then I naturally set my eyes on the frozen lake.  I started to walk and skid on the ice, and as my brother followed, I got more and more daring.  I went all the way to the center and spun around.  My brother followed too.  One second I was standing on the ice laughing, and the next, there was the sound of cracking and I remember the ice giving way beneath me.  I plunged into the cold water.  I managed to get up to the surface for just a second and then air was like acid in my lungs because it was so cold.  I remember hearing my brother scream for a second and then there was nothing.  I thought, What have I done? Just before I was dragged under."

Victoria quivered and stopped caressing his hands.  Both of her hands gripped the bedspread as she stared at him, appearing hypnotized.  He couldn't help himself.  He chuckled.

"How did you make it out?" she asked.

"Well, I was very lucky."  He smirked.  "A hunter had wandered by and managed to break open the ice with his axe and pulled me out of the icy water.  He brought me, shivering, to the shore and then ran back onto the ice after my brother, who was now stuck beneath an even bigger hunk of it and couldn't breathe.  That was the worst part, I think.  My brother meant the world to me, and knowing that he could die because of me made me sick.  I prayed he would make it out and that he would be okay.  When the hunter pulled out my soaked, pale brother, I started to cry, I was so relieved.  I leapt to my feet and ran over to him and hugged and kissed him.  The hunter brought us home and yelled at us the entire way.  My father just stared at us when we came home, wet and cold, shook his head and walked away.  He never mentioned the fact that we had disobeyed him.  Maybe he knew we had gotten our just rewards.  I don't know.  But what I do know is that I never deliberately led my brother into danger again."

A smile crossed Victoria's face.  "Thank heavens you were all right."

"What did you think happened?"  He chuckled and shook his head.  "I'm sitting right here, so it's not like I could have died."

"But your brother…"  She paled and did not finish her sentence.

Pain filled his heart.  When he had talked about the memory, it almost felt good.  Now he remembered why he didn't think of his brother.  It was the aftereffects, the remembrance of Devon's blood soaked corpse upon his bed, which made his heart chill.  He sighed.

"May I ask…"  She glanced at him somberly.  "How did your brother die?"

"He was killed," Leon gulped.  "Killed by a deranged beast."

Shock crossed Victoria's face, and she clamped her mouth shut.

"He was killed.  Killed by a deranged beast."  The words echoed in Victoria's ears minutes after Leon had said them.  She could tell by Leon's saddened expression that he spoke the truth of what had happened to his brother.  Poor Leon.  No wonder he appears so sad.  I too know what it is like to lose somebody important.  Tears filled her eyes at the thought of her gentle father, who had never tired of her spirited personality.

"I lost somebody too," Victoria whispered.  "My father."

A shocked expression crossed Leon's face.  She tried to hide how ill she felt, but she couldn't.  The tears crawled up her throat and threatened to spring free from her eyes.  Leon squeezed her hand and gazed at her with sadness, and the look in his eye only made her faster to weeping because there was something about him she trusted.  Maybe it was the fact that he too knew pain that made her less hesitant to weep.

As tears poured down her cheeks, Leon leaned over the bed and gathered her in his arms.  She wrapped her arms around his back and held on tight, bunching the material between her fingers.  Leon's steady breathing calmed her aching heart at the thought of her father.

"How did he die?" Leon asked quietly.

"My father died from illness, like your mother."  Victoria shuddered.  "One second he was fine, the next he was pale and his eyes were glazed and dead.  I remember because he died in our home.  He lay in bed, rolled onto his side, and then vomited up pork stew and stale bread all over the sheets.  My mother called the doctor and I stayed with him.  He held my hand as he died and I remember thinking, no, not him.  When the doctor came, it was already too late.  The hand of God had already taken him."

Leon grunted, "I see."

Though he did not prompt her, she wanted to continue.  Victoria had never talked about what had happened after her father died.  All of her friends abandoned her after what she had done with Sir William, and her mother had left her in the throes of grief.  It had just been her, all alone, until her mother found Dawson and she suddenly got well again.

"After my father died, I felt so cold and alone.  It was like God had taken my mother as well.  She just stared straight ahead with this blank look on her face.  My family was not wealthy and we scraped by with my father and his job, but without him, we were doomed to starvation.  I panicked.  Though some of the townspeople occasionally brought us food, they too had trouble getting on, and soon their gifts waned."  She sighed into his shoulder.  "A wealthy man who lives near the city came and said he could feed me and my family if I would…if I would…give up my virtue for him, so I did.  I got food and money and everything else, and I was able to save my mother and myself from starving to death.  Unfortunately, I lost so much in the process – my old friends took me for a whore, as did the townspeople.  A few even refused to sell food to me, even though I had good money.  I still feel guilty about what I did."

Leon sucked in air and she wondered, horrified, whether she had gone too far in telling him her past.  Why did I say that to him?  Why did I let him know everything?  He'll think I'm a monster when I'm through.  When he gazed at her at that moment, though, she saw nothing but pity in his beautiful eyes.  It was a much welcomed sight after years of ridicule for being a "lady of the night."

"What happened to you?" he asked slowly.

"My mother came back to life eventually.  She met a man named Dawson who finally made her smile again.  He is not wealthy but they could get by.  Blissful happiness.  I would only have to worry about feeding myself, and I saved some coins out of what Sir William gave me each time just in case something happened."  She glanced down at her shaking hands as more tears welled in her eyes.  "I came to his estate to tell him I would no longer be his.  I did not love him.  He nearly killed me and threatened to do so if I did not return.  I ran away.  That’s why I am here.  That was why I went up your mountain that day."

His mouth tightened.  "I see."

"You think I'm awful, don't you?"  She sniffled and wiped her nose on her hand.  "I think that’s why I was struck down with this awful curse.  I think I got it because I was immoral and now I’m being punished for my actions.  This is what a woman gets for breaking her virtue."

"You aren't awful, you're strong," Leon said.

She blinked in shock.  No one had ever called her that before.

"What?"  She shook her head.  "No, I'm not.  If I were strong, I would have found another way to save us."

"You made a choice to save your family no matter what it cost you."  Leon shook his head.  "I think it makes you strong, even though you had to…"

Once again, she shook her head and moved her gaze to the right.

Strange feelings filled Leon after hearing her story, but jealousy was the primary one.  Victoria had been with another man.  Yes, Leon had no intention of marrying her because of what he was, but he still felt intense anger all the same.  He also felt respect for Victoria and for what she had done.  Leon sometimes wondered whether the world was as cut and dry as the townspeople made it out to be.  Could anyone truly condemn Victoria for trying to save her mother and keep herself alive?  He knew he couldn't.  There were definitely much worse sins in the world, ones that the other townspeople appeared to have forgotten about, sins like gossiping and greed during a time when someone needed help the most.

He shook his head and gripped Victoria closer.  As he felt her quivering against him, his heart went out to her, which confused him.  He should not feel this close to Victoria when he knew he would make her leave.  He should not want to offer her the servant job so much that it caused his heart to ache.

"Victoria," Leon said into her hair.

"Yes?" Victoria asked, her voice soft.

"You are the most amazing woman I have ever met."  Leon curled his fingers into her hair.  "No matter what others say, don't you ever forget that.  You deserve so much more than what you have been given."

She squeezed him closer and the two of them silently embraced for hours.

 

Sir William sat outside of Dawson's house with a frown on his face.  At his side, Cecile had her hands bound and her mouth gagged.  Though her feet were unbound, he was not worried.  He knew she would be as likely to get away from him as an arrow struck duck would get away from the hunter.  He also had a bag over his back which held rope for binding.

"Where is your beloved fiancé?" Sir William barked, turning to glance at Cecile in annoyance.  "He should be here by now."

Instead of responding, Cecile shook her head.  In his rage, Sir William drew back his hand and hit Cecile across the face, just for the fun of it.  He enjoyed the agonized expression on her face as well as the soft cry she let out as she hit the ground and curled up into a ball.  Chuckling, he prepared to kick her, but then he heard the sound of a carriage bouncing along the dirt path.

Sir William crouched again and gazed at the carriage.  The carriage was drawn by two bay horses and was being controlled by Dawson, the man he had seen in the inn.  Dawson's face appeared pale and there were sweat stains on his clothes.

The man is obviously concerned that his fiancé is gone.  Sir William's grin widened.  Good.  This will be easy for me.

As Dawson pulled back on the reins, he said, "Whoa!" hoarsely and his animals drew to a stop.  After Dawson climbed out of the carriage, walked up to his front stoop and unlocked his door, Sir William withdrew his sword from its sheath and seized Cecile by her arm and hauled her to her feet.  She groaned and then glanced at him in worry, her eyes large.  Sir William grinned at her and then began to haul her forward, toward Dawson.

"Is this who you are looking for?" Sir William asked, deliberately keeping his voice mockingly cheerful.

Dawson spun around and gasped when he saw his battered, bruised, and bloody fiancé.  When Dawson rushed off the stoop and headed toward them, Sir William yanked Cecile in front of him and pushed the blade of his knife against her quivering throat.  In shock, Dawson gasped and drew to a stop, his eyes wide with fear.

"Stop."  Dawson put up both hands, trembling.  "What are you planning to do with her?"

"That all depends on you."  Sir William continued to press the knife to Cecile's throat.  "I am looking for Victoria, and your bride-to-be informs me that she doesn't know where Victoria is, and is awaiting a letter to tell her.  I have decided that it would be a wise plan for me to wait with you.  Now what you are going to do is go down on your knees, hold your hands behind your back, and stay very still.  If you don't, I'll cut up your wife.  I don't necessarily need her alive anymore.  I will get Victoria back one way or another.  What is your choice?"

With a groan, Sir William's eyes flickered toward Cecile.  He then fell to his knees, put his hands behind his back, and hung his head.  Sir William chuckled.  These people are so easy.

"Good," Sir William said.

Sir William released Cecile who quivered but remained standing.  Rolling his eyes, he kicked Cecile's knee and she grunted and fell to her side on the ground.  In his anger, Dawson roared but did not move to stand up.  After digging in his bag, Sir William pulled out rope and began to bunch it in his hands.  Once he reached Dawson, he leaned over, grabbed the man's work-roughened fingers within his own, and then bound his wrists together.  He then did the same to Dawson's ankles.  Unlike with Cecile, Dawson could be a real danger to him if he got away.  The man didn't appear intelligent, but he was tall and muscular.  He was going to have a hell of a time dragging him bound into the house, but he wasn't about to risk Dawson getting smart on him and surprising him with a blunt object to the head the moment he walked through the door.  Unlike the hotel keeper, he had the intelligence to avoid that.

The sound of Dawson grunting broke through his thoughts and he straightened and seized him by his collar.  Sir William groaned and began to haul Dawson toward the house.  Every step he took was painful, but he managed to make it up the stairs of the stoop and he opened the door.

Once inside, Sir William paused to catch his breath and he glanced around in disgust.  The house was tiny with eclectic wood furnishings.  He swore and focused on the living room.  He would get Dawson to the table and tie him to it.  Though he managed to drag Dawson, he wouldn't be able to get him onto the chair by himself.  He hauled Dawson the remaining few feet and forced his broad back against the table leg.  Sir William then took out another piece of rope from his bag, cut a piece of it with his knife, and tied him to the table leg.  Now for Cecile.

After straightening up, he spun around and headed for the door.  After he had gone outside, he noticed that Cecile was attempting to get away, wobbling toward the forest, limping with each step.  Anger and amusement filled him.  Did Cecile really believe she could get away?  He was sure he had fractured her leg.  He headed toward her with a determined walk, and Cecile stole a look over her shoulder, gasped against her gag, and attempted to run.  As pathetic as ever, Cecile tripped over the brush and tumbled to her knees.  She screamed against her gag in fear, but that only made him chuckle more.  Ridiculous woman.

Once he had reached her, he seized her hair and yanked her to her feet again.  She screamed and flailed, but her attempts to get away were futile.  She was so weak she couldn't bruise him even if he let her pummel him to her heart's content.  He ripped Cecile backward by her hair.  She wailed and fell to her butt, and he dragged her to the house by her hair and then pulled her inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

***

The next morning, Leon heard the sound of knocking outside his bedroom door.  Victoria?  He leapt to his feet and rushed over to the door, wondering how she had managed to get out of bed when the night before she had been so weak.  When he opened the door, he saw that it was not Victoria.  It was Dr. Manheim with his large beard and bulging belly.  He had a medical bag in his hand and his cheeks were pink from the morning chill.  Dr. Manheim walked into his room.

"I let myself into your estate, as you specified during my last visit."  Dr. Manheim frowned.  "Your estate is so big I could have knocked for hours and you would never hear me.  I apologize for coming so early in the morn; however, I traveled all night because you specified in your letter that it was an emergency.  Where is the woman you mentioned in the letter with the poisoned leg from wolf bite?"

"I will show you."  Leon frowned.  "Come with me.  If it means that you can make her well, it does not matter how early you wake me or her up.  You are welcome here.  I'm just grateful you made haste the way you did.  Last night, she had grown hot.  I was tempted to check on her during the night but feared it would startle her and make her believe I was up to no good if I did."

Dr. Manheim nodded, "I see.  Well, I will do what I can for her.  Perhaps a bleeding is in order.  It will stop the hemorrhaging at least, if what ails her leg is what I think."

As Leon led Dr. Manheim down the hallway and to Victoria's bedroom, Leon was silent.  Please let him be able to heal her.  Yet as he thought that, his heart was filled with mourning.  If Dr. Manheim healed her, he would have no choice but to send her away to preserve his sanity.  He couldn't keep his curse away from her forever.  On top of that, she would be eternally in danger as long as she was around him.

Dr. Manheim cleared his throat just as they reached Victoria's door, and he was drawn from his jumbled thoughts and mixed feelings.

"This is her room," Leon said quietly, drawing to a stop.  "But please, do not mention my own ailment to her.  She has no idea what affects me, and I have no intention of telling her."

As Dr. Manheim's eyes lingered on the door, he grunted in agreement.  "I see.  As you well know, I am reliable when it comes to keeping secrets.  I had thought, though, that this woman could be someone you were, of a sort, courting.  You truly have no intention of telling her?"

"That I'm a monster?"  He shook his head violently.  "No.  And I am not courting her.  She was injured on her way here to apply for a job and that is all.  I would never subject a woman to the type of torture it would put her through when I change."

"Your protests are mighty for a man who is not courting."  Dr. Manheim raised an eyebrow.  "But I will say nothing to the woman.  Show her to me then."

His heart thudded wildly as he opened the door to Victoria's room.  Though Dr. Manheim stepped inside, Leon lingered on the threshold of Victoria's room a minute longer, getting his thoughts in order.  The fact that Dr. Manheim truly had thought he was courting Victoria caused him to become confused, mostly because he wished he could court her.  If only he was human.  If he was, he would not have hesitated to attempt to win Victoria's heart and heal the pain that losing her father had brought upon her.  Victoria was like no woman he had ever met.  She was strong, beautiful, and smart.  He would treat her as if she was a goddess.

But that was if he was human.

Shaking his head, he walked into Victoria's room and saw that Dr. Manheim stood over the bed but did not wake her.  Victoria appeared worse today than she had yesterday.  Sweat doused her forehead and her chest violently rose up and down with every pained breath she released.  His heart ached as he stared down at her pale face and blue lips.  Would she live?  How could a werewolf's bite do so much so quickly?

"I can tell already that this does not look good," Dr. Manheim said.  "Perhaps you should rouse the poor woman.  I do not want to trouble her condition further by waking her and frightening her.  A woman does not like having a strange man hover above her bed."

Leon nodded and walked over to Victoria's bed and sat at her side.  As he sat next to her, he studied her pale, sweaty face and was shocked that she had not been woken by Dr. Manheim's speaking.  Perhaps she needed the sleep badly.  Still, he had to rouse her.

Placing his hand on Victoria's cheek, he gently said her name, "Victoria. Victoria, wake up now.  The doctor is here to see you."

"Oh, Leon," Victoria muttered sleepily.  "I care for you so much."

Heat filled his face as he was once again overwhelmed with pleasure and confusion.  He watched her eyes flicker and tried to ignore Dr. Manheim's knowing chuckle.

***

Victoria's dream was hot.  So hot.  It felt like her entire body was on fire, but that didn't matter, because she was curled up in Leon's arms.  The two of them were naked and his hand ran down the length of her arm.  Though her leg ached, she ignored it and felt pleasure fill her body.

"Victoria, didn't you hear me?" Leon said, gazing at her face.  "It is time to wake up now."

"But I am awake."

She glanced around the bedroom in confusion and then took in Leon's chiseled, sweat covered chest one last time.  His chest was gorgeous, as was the rest of him.  But then her vision began to grow blurry and her eyes fluttered.  Suddenly, she was in her room again and Leon hovered above her, his eyes shining with concern.  His hand remained on her cheek, which she did not mind.  Upon waking up, she felt her head pound and her leg throb even more.

"Leon?"  She bit her bottom lip.  "What is it?  I feel so…"

Hot.  So hot and in pain.  She draped her hand over her forehead and then glanced to the right.  A man she did not know stood by her bed.  With a cry, Victoria drew the covers up over her under-dress, concealing as much as possible.

"Victoria, this is Dr. Manheim," Leon said.  "He has come to look at your leg."

"I am sorry to startle you, Lady," Dr. Manheim bowed.  "I assure you that I have seen many women in their nightdresses and I have no intention of gazing at you with sinful eyes.  I have a wife at home as well."

Though she felt nervous, she trusted Leon's judgment.  If Leon thought this doctor was a good man, she would just have to believe it, too.  Victoria allowed the blankets to fall and she moved to straighten up.  Leon placed his hands on her back, one on her lower back and the other on her upper back, and steadied her.  Once she was in the sitting position comfortably, he did not remove his hand on her lower back, which filled her with pleasure.

"Tell me, how have you been feeling?" Dr. Manheim asked, sitting down by the bed next to her.

"Hot," she said honestly.  "So hot, all the time.  Like I am burning.  And my leg, it aches and throbs."

"I see."  Dr. Manheim frowned and nodded.  "Then let me have a look at your leg."

Nodding, Victoria slid so her legs dangled off the side of the bed.  Leon placed his hands on her back again, steadying her and comforting her.  She drew her dress up to her knees and gazed down at the bite with wide eyes.  The wound was swollen and throbbing, and yellowing pus dribbled down from the wound and onto her skin.  She shuddered and Leon gasped as he gazed at the bite.  It had gotten a lot worse since yesterday.  The wolf's poison was advancing fast.

Dr. Manheim did not suck in air, and he quietly touched her leg.  When Dr. Manheim touched the sticky, yellowing goop in the middle of the bite, she gasped and drew her leg back as it stung, and Leon rubbed her back in comfort again.  She appreciated his touch and it calmed her pounding heart as she recovered from the pain of being touched.

"This wound is as I feared," Dr. Manheim frowned.  "The wolf's bite has poisoned her.  I have seen a wound like this only twice."

Victoria swallowed.  "What…What happened to them?"

"One of them lived," Dr. Manheim said.

Dr. Manheim looked down at the brown bag he carried.  Victoria did not wish to know about the other non-survivor.  Enough fear coursed through her at his words.  Had she fled from Sir William only to die?  The idea made her sick to her stomach.

"I will have to stay here for a prolonged period of time, at Leon's acceptance."  Dr. Manheim pulled his brown bag onto his lap.  "After I read his letter, I gathered several things I thought I might need in case the wound was as I thought.  I am glad I did."

He pulled out several vials.  One of them had clear liquid and another had golden liquid.  After that, he pulled out a large jar full of swimming white leeches.  Her eyes opened wide and she gasped and slid further back on the bed.  Leon grabbed her from behind once more and steadied her, and she felt him bury his face in her hair.

"We will have to go about this in several ways," Dr. Manheim said.  "In order to save you, Victoria, I have brought some branches and herbs called Tonic Branches from my hometown of Kent.  I have also brought vinegar and alcohol.  We shall also have to go through several leechings and bleedings in order to chase the poison out of your body.  If all goes well, you may be lucky and will survive the treatment.  Do you contest to this?"

Fear filled her body.  Victoria had never seen a bleeding or a leeching, but she had heard one.  She remembered it like it was yesterday.

Fourteen-year-old Victoria walked home from the bakery with bread in her arms.  As she walked, she heard the sound of loud screaming fill the night and her heart sped up.  Was somebody being possessed?  Was there a theft of a household?  Frightened, Victoria quickened her pace to head home, but the closer she neared to her house, the closer she drew to the sound.