Reluctant Mates - 21 Paranormal Romance Stories (Werewolf, Vampire, Minotaur and Monster collection) by Francis Ashe Page A
Authors: Francis Ashe
Tags: gay romance, werewolf romance, werewolf erotic romance, werewolf menage, vampire menage, gay werewolf romance, gay werewolf erotic romance, first time gay romance, gay vampire romance
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thought that maybe I’d invented the whole thing out of terror. I must have hallucinated the great beast whose shadow crossed silently before my eyes the moment the arch-Druid shoved me into the labyrinth under the ancient temple and slid the stone slab into place behind me, I told myself. That’s all it was, just a simple overactive imagination.
Slowing my pace to a trot, I squinted through the humid darkness. The sticky air had given parts of the walls around me a thin layer of moss. My palm was wet, my skin clammy, and my hair started to stick to the sides of my face.
In all the time I’d been running, unsure what – if anything – I was running from , I had not realized that the simple, white linen tunic and underclothes in which I’d been dressed before being escorted into these ancient catacombs clung to the otherwise naked flesh underneath.
My trot slowed to a walk and finally I stopped completely, allowing myself a moment to catch my breath as there seemed to be no actual danger. The fabric clung to my hips and my prickling, stiffened nipples. Each time the chilled air sent a thrill creeping up my shoulders when the rough cloth rubbed over them, I drew a gasp.
As I stood in silence, I unconsciously wrapped my arms around myself when a cool breeze struck me.
“Breeze?” I whispered to myself. “How can there be...”
I turned just in time to feel another breeze – or rather a breath, a hot and sultry breath – creep up my shoulder to my neck. Before I could gather my wits enough to run again, I saw two eyes that burned red like embers of coal, looming over me from a face that was at least two heads above mine.
The last thing I wanted to do was to scream or cry or do anything to show how afraid I was. Courage was the last thing that I thought I had left. Summoning up whatever shreds of it I could, I struck at the shape looming above me in the shadows, but before it struck, I felt fingers wrap around my wrist and squeeze.
Rough, hard, fingers. Huge ones that seemed half the thickness of my arm each, curled around my arm and held me. I flailed my other arm wildly, but he just snatched it out of the air effortlessly.
And then I heard a laugh that seemed to come from somewhere deep in the bowels of the earth from the way it rumbled in my belly. It was so leathery, so intense, and yet so strangely quiet that once again, I wasn’t sure if it was real.
Losing my sense of dignity was no longer a concern as much as being torn limb from limb. Fear gripped me. I screamed and then cried out for mercy as my own arms were wrapped tight about my body, and I was jerked backwards against the muscled torso of the temple’s beast.
His breath moved down my neck, warm now that I was so close to him, and from somewhere he produced a cloth sack, slipped it over my head and tightened the drawstring around my neck just enough to keep it in place. My hands were quickly bound with a tightly tied rope that bit my flesh, burning sweetly.
“Wh – what are you?” I said as his breath again caressed my prickling flesh and a sensation that I couldn’t, or didn’t want to, admit, washed down my belly, over my shoulders and down my back.
His response was another short laugh, and then a snort. I felt his face – or his snout – draw near me, the cool damp of his nose on my cheek. At first I thought he must just be a giant, as tall as he stood, but when I felt his bovine nose, I knew all the terrible stories I’d heard as a young girl and as a vestal virgin in training were true. I was in the clutches of the awful beast who made these underground tunnels his home.
He yanked me backwards again, against his muscled stomach that rumbled with another laugh. Through the clinging fabric, I felt something else, something hard and long and thick and sinful, stretching from near my knee to where my legs met.
“Mmm,” the beast groaned. He slid one of his fingers across my trembling lips that rubbed against the rough hood he’d
Slowing my pace to a trot, I squinted through the humid darkness. The sticky air had given parts of the walls around me a thin layer of moss. My palm was wet, my skin clammy, and my hair started to stick to the sides of my face.
In all the time I’d been running, unsure what – if anything – I was running from , I had not realized that the simple, white linen tunic and underclothes in which I’d been dressed before being escorted into these ancient catacombs clung to the otherwise naked flesh underneath.
My trot slowed to a walk and finally I stopped completely, allowing myself a moment to catch my breath as there seemed to be no actual danger. The fabric clung to my hips and my prickling, stiffened nipples. Each time the chilled air sent a thrill creeping up my shoulders when the rough cloth rubbed over them, I drew a gasp.
As I stood in silence, I unconsciously wrapped my arms around myself when a cool breeze struck me.
“Breeze?” I whispered to myself. “How can there be...”
I turned just in time to feel another breeze – or rather a breath, a hot and sultry breath – creep up my shoulder to my neck. Before I could gather my wits enough to run again, I saw two eyes that burned red like embers of coal, looming over me from a face that was at least two heads above mine.
The last thing I wanted to do was to scream or cry or do anything to show how afraid I was. Courage was the last thing that I thought I had left. Summoning up whatever shreds of it I could, I struck at the shape looming above me in the shadows, but before it struck, I felt fingers wrap around my wrist and squeeze.
Rough, hard, fingers. Huge ones that seemed half the thickness of my arm each, curled around my arm and held me. I flailed my other arm wildly, but he just snatched it out of the air effortlessly.
And then I heard a laugh that seemed to come from somewhere deep in the bowels of the earth from the way it rumbled in my belly. It was so leathery, so intense, and yet so strangely quiet that once again, I wasn’t sure if it was real.
Losing my sense of dignity was no longer a concern as much as being torn limb from limb. Fear gripped me. I screamed and then cried out for mercy as my own arms were wrapped tight about my body, and I was jerked backwards against the muscled torso of the temple’s beast.
His breath moved down my neck, warm now that I was so close to him, and from somewhere he produced a cloth sack, slipped it over my head and tightened the drawstring around my neck just enough to keep it in place. My hands were quickly bound with a tightly tied rope that bit my flesh, burning sweetly.
“Wh – what are you?” I said as his breath again caressed my prickling flesh and a sensation that I couldn’t, or didn’t want to, admit, washed down my belly, over my shoulders and down my back.
His response was another short laugh, and then a snort. I felt his face – or his snout – draw near me, the cool damp of his nose on my cheek. At first I thought he must just be a giant, as tall as he stood, but when I felt his bovine nose, I knew all the terrible stories I’d heard as a young girl and as a vestal virgin in training were true. I was in the clutches of the awful beast who made these underground tunnels his home.
He yanked me backwards again, against his muscled stomach that rumbled with another laugh. Through the clinging fabric, I felt something else, something hard and long and thick and sinful, stretching from near my knee to where my legs met.
“Mmm,” the beast groaned. He slid one of his fingers across my trembling lips that rubbed against the rough hood he’d
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