The Wolf & The Witch
Sleeping Flowers

Claire woke to the sound of women talking; she felt the slightest tug at her left hand- her cuffed hand. She blinked her eyes open- it was late afternoon. Or early morning. The light was pale yellow through the starched white curtains of a large window. She was in a nice room- exposed beams, half-plastered walls, dressers, closets, a large mirror. She looked around- all five wives were in the room; two were wrapping Lestat’s shoulder with bandages, and two were standing against the wall on the other side of the room talking, and one was picking up towels. Claire started to move and couldn’t: her right arm was tied down, and she was on her back. “Don’t… touch him.”

They all looked at her, surprised she was awake. She had lost a lot of blood, but her injury had been relatively minor. “We’re done healing him. Go back to sleep.”

Soph pulled a light brown hair from her head and held it out, to put her to sleep.

Claire strained against the rope at her wrist, and it didn’t budge; she felt weak, and drained, and hollow. But she reached out her left hand for his right, and held it, and found all the strength she needed- she found love, and desire, and want, and validation, and value, and respect- no one wants you; no one’s ever wanted you: those words were no longer true. She ran magic down her arm and burned the rope, and she burned the hair in Soph’s fingers. Claire groaned, and rolled over, and put her right arm around Lestat, and scooted up his chest. Her hip hurt, and her back hurt. She looked at him- they were both naked, and uncovered, and both bandaged, but he had many more bandages than she did. Claire pulled their cuffed hand up and reached over and burned the rope holding his left wrist. But it was more than rope- it was chains. “Let… him go.”

“We’d rather not,” Soph said.

“You’re in our house, and your wolf is dangerous,” Olive added.

“Chains won’t… hold him, and he won’t… hurt you...” Claire climbed up his chest and laid her head in the crook of his neck. She noticed a blanket at the foot of the bed and reached for it and groaned from the effort; she gave up and laid back on his chest. Emma pulled the white cotton blanket up and covered them, but left Lestat’s chest uncovered, so Em could finish bandaging his shoulder. Claire scooted further up the bed, and kissed his forehead, and shut her eyes. “As long as… you don’t hurt me, he won’t… hurt you.” Claire finished, her eyes closed, her voice low.

The wives all looked at each other- James had warned them not to unchain him, but they all believed Claire- on both points. Em and Emma certainly believed chains wouldn’t hold him. But, above all, none of them had ever seen, or heard of, a wolf crying. They all loved their husband very much. He took good care of them, and was kind, and gentle, and listened to them, and protected them, and gave them everything they wanted. And they didn’t mind sharing- James loved each of them equally, and affectionately. But he had never cried for them; he had never cried on behalf of any of them.

“Go ahead,” Beverly said.

Em stood, and walked around the bed and unlocked the bracket holding the chain to the floor. Emma tied off a bandage and reached over and unwrapped the chain from his wrist- it dropped to the floor with a metallic rattle.

Claire cracked her eye open and looked from the young, blonde Emma to older, brunette Beverly. “Why are you… helping us?”

“We want a few things from the two of you.”

“What… things?”

“Rest, first,” Beverly said. “Let’s talk when you’re both awake.”

Claire could guess what they wanted- at a minimum they would want Lestat to officially hand the title of Alpha over to James. And it was likely they didn’t want the forests burned. Was there something else? “There’s a few things… we want…” Claire pulled his left arm around slowly, and scooted further up his body. “Biscuits, and jelly. Bacon, sausage… eggs, steak… coffee… joints…” She turned on her side, and turned him over, and pulled his arm around her, and pulled his face into her breasts, and cuddled him, then reached down for the blanket, and pulled it up. “A hot bath…” She kissed the top of his head once, twice, then exhaustion found her. “… a long strip of… white cotton…” Claire finished, and held him as close, and as tight, as she could, and fell asleep.

The wives looked at each other. Biscuits and eggs and strips of cotton were a damn good trade if these two were willing to go along with their plan. Then again, the wolf and the witch did owe them for saving their asses twice now.

Beverly walked over and adjusted the cotton blanket. “You’re a very lucky young woman,” she said, looking down at Claire. Young, and loved, by a strong, handsome, intelligent wolf. That was how she started, with James. And though it had taken twenty years or more, they were about to fulfill the dreams they had as teenagers.

“I still don’t think it’s safe to unchain him,” Soph said. She might be bald if she had to fight him again, and she didn’t like the idea of any other wolf, or man, sleeping in their house. She pulled a shawl up and over her shoulders, then reached over and pulled the curtains closed. She looked at Bev and hoped she knew what she was doing.

Em and Emma walked to the bedroom door. “Come on. Let’s go.”

*

Lestat woke to soft warmth and darkness. His face was smushed between Claire’s breasts. He knew her scent, and her skin, and he knew her temperature. He felt her heart beat against his nose, and lips, and pulled himself out of her cleavage just long enough to take a big, deep breath, then returned to the soft warmth of her beautiful breasts. He let his breath out slowly, holding her, feeling her, and smiled. She was alive, and that was all that mattered to him. She was alive, and he knew beyond any doubt- he loved her with all his heart. My mate.

Claire blinked awake and felt him rooting around her cleavage with his nose. “Good morning.”

“-od orin-“ he answered, his voice lost. “-re… k?”

Claire grinned. “You might have to come up here if you want to talk.”

He shook his head no and she laughed. It was dark, but she heard the muffled sounds of people talking, walking around- she had no idea what time it was, but it was obvious- they weren’t alone in this house.

He kissed her chest, then pulled back and kissed her breasts, and she blushed, but didn’t stop him, or fight him- she belonged to him, and she loved his hands, and mouth. He adjusted himself and scooted down and very lightly bit the underside of her breast- the same spot he had bitten when she was drunk.

“No biting,” she smiled. She didn’t actually care if he bit her and nibbled on her- she liked it.

He turned her on her back, and climbed over her, and kissed her ribs, following each one, back and forth across her body. He very gently bit her side, and held her skin between his teeth, and her skin shivered as it followed his touch. He looked up at her from under the blankets. “a -ittle -iting.”

Claire couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. “Just a little.”

He went back to kissing, and followed her lowest rib back to the center of her stomach. He kissed her stomach slowly, letting his lips linger on her skin, as cool, and as soft, as autumn mornings, then down to her belly button.

Claire draped her right arm over her eyes and blushed- god his kisses felt good. It felt like ripples ran through her body from his mouth as if she were water. Every touch, every kiss, moved out across her skin and tingled. Then she felt him continue down past her belly button. “Hey, hey. Stop that. We’re in someone else’s-“ she gasped- his mouth was an inch away from her sex. She grabbed his hair and tugged, but his lips continued kissing their way down. She blushed bright red and covered her sex with her right hand. “No- Lestat! Goddamnit- I can literally hear people talking- get your ass up here.”

He pulled the blanket aside and looked at her hip- fifteen stitches. And unbandaged- likely because of where the cut was. Her skin was red at the stitches, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Still, he had to do a much better job taking care of her. He could not risk losing her again. He lowered his mouth to her hip, and kissed once, twice, following the two-inch long line of stitches from the outside of her hip to the inside.

“Lestat,” Claire gasped. “Stop. You’re too-“

There was a knock on the door. “Are you two up yet?”

“No!” Claire yelled. She was stuck- she couldn’t grab him by his hair to pull his mouth away from her sex, and she couldn’t pull the blanket up. If his lips got any closer to her pussy- “I swear to god if you don’t-“

The knob turned, and Lestat finished kissing the stitches, then moved his mouth to the back of her hand, and kissed, and she felt warm air slip through the cracks between her fingers, and caress her sex, the same way morning sun slips between fences and caresses the petals of sleeping flowers, and she jumped; she grabbed his arm and pulled him up and they got tangled in the blankets and fell off the bed in a heap.

Soph opened the door- one leg sticking out one way, another leg another, and the wolf was smiling, and the witch was glaring, and had her fist back to punch him. “Your biscuits are ready.” She shut the door.

*

It was nine at night, and the wolf and the witch sat at a large dining room table surrounded by plates and bowls and jars and glasses. Everything Claire requested was on the table, including joints and a strip of white cotton fabric. Lestat ate quickly, gulped coffee down, and wanted to leave. He felt uncomfortable, but it was difficult to be rude- twice these people healed them, and twice they helped them, but he still didn’t trust them. And the joint was strong, and Claire was happy, so he leaned back in his chair, and kept his eyes on James.

Em and Emma sat opposite them, alternating between eating and feeding James, one on one side, one on the other. Both young witches wore thin blue cotton nightgowns, translucent, leaving nothing to the imagination, and both had their long blond hair up in ponytails.

Both twins were on his knees, and he had one hand on Emma’s ass, and the other on Em’s. There truly could be no better way of eating than being fed by twins while holding their young, firm asses.

“Here, here,” Claire said, smiling her best smile. She handed Lestat a honey biscuit; god honey-goat cheese biscuits were the best. She traded him half the honey biscuit for the joint, and he took a bite and she took a hit. “Well?”

Lestat nodded- pretty damn good. “Not as good as bacon, but better than jelly.”

“You know,” James said, watching Claire pull smoke into her lungs, and remembering the way her breasts had jiggled as he pinned her to the wall. “Honey does wonders in the bedroom.”

The twins blushed, and Em smacked his chest and dropped a piece of fruit on his lap. “Don’t tell them stuff like that,” she chided.

Claire looked at them curiously. “What do you do with honey in the bedroom?”

James smiled big and broad. The best thing about honey was that it made his wives drool even more, assuming something was in their mouths, along with the honey. “It-“

“Absolutely not!” Both twins covered his mouth, and glared at him, blushing.

The wolf and the witch looked at each other, curious.

The other wives joined, and they finished eating, and then James, Beverly, and Olive told the wolf and the witch what they wanted from them:

First, resign as alpha of the Land of Ravines and name James in your place. Second, feel free to steal the horses and personal belongings from the old alpha, Edward. That was an odd thing to say, and Claire and Lestat looked at each other. Third, proceed with your plan of killing the packs of Itthon. Just the packs? Lestat never took his eyes off James, and Claire dove into her fifth biscuit- pear jelly. Fourth, set the forest on fire, but only around the packs- don’t burn the entire forest down. Fifth, don’t kill the humans or destroy their villages. Claire hummed as she took a bite, and Lestat opened his mouth- his witch shared every bite; they locked their fingers together under the table.

“We are going to chase you into Itthon, and we are going to track you, and we are going to protect the human cities and the coven from you- assuming you still intend to attack it. Your poison decimated the population here- part of the protection we’re providing in Itthon is an effort to move people here, to Favoris. We look like heroes, you look like villains- it works for both of us.”

Claire looked at Beverly- she stood behind James, rubbing his shoulders. They could chase and track all they fucking wanted to. Claire didn’t really give a shit what they did. “You do whatever you want, but that priestess is dead. She sealed her goddamn fate three months ago.”

James smiled, and squeezed Em’s breast in one hand, and Emma’s in the other, and ran both his thumbs over two identical, perky nipples. “Sorry,” he smiled, and leaned forward, and motioned to Olive for the honey. “But I am taking the priestess as my sixth wife. You will not kill her.”

“Like fucking hell,” Claire spat, and lowered her eyes. How could his wives be ok with him saying that? But more importantly- as if Claire would reward that fucking priestess with the life of luxury that these other five witches had. Killing Rana and Owen, shipping off Deth and Bethany- fine. Good goddamn riddance. But Sarah? She hadn’t broken any rules, and now she was dead. And Claire did not start this fight, but she sure as shit was going to finish it. She glared at James.

“Burn part the forest if it makes you happy,” he said. “Kill all the wolves if you want- this was their idea. But if you attack that coven I’m going to defend it, and her. And if you don’t like that, then I guess we’ll fight. You owe us, so have at your revenge, but be smart- do what we tell you and you might not need us to heal you a third time.” James never looked away from Claire. He held her eyes in the flickering light of two fires at either end of the large dining room, and she held his.

Lestat did not even trust those words, and they seemed perfectly reasonable given they were spoken by a man who had five wives- of course he would want another, but something felt off here, and he didn’t know what. What were these fuckers actually after? More land? More control? Lestat was positive- it wasn’t some damned sixth wife. And that was the fifth time this group had asked them to kill wolves: Edward, and Edward again, Deth, and now the packs, twice. And if all this was the pack’s idea, then why did the priestess write the letter?

Claire looked from one to the other. “I appreciate you healing us, and the biscuits, so I’m going to be nice- stay the fuck out of our way.” She put the rest of her biscuit on the plate, wiped her mouth, and pushed her chair away from the table. She tugged at the cuff and Lestat stood with her, shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t mind leaving some humans alive. If you want bunnies and birds to live- fine. But I’m killing that bitch if it is the last thing I do, and I’ll kill all six of you to get to her. Stay out of our way.” She felt Lestat squeeze her hand. “Are five wives not enough for you?”

James smiled. He was getting older; he didn’t have the virility he used to. Some nights it was difficult to stay hard long enough to fuck all five wives- five pussies, five mouths, five asses- that’s a lot. But he’d always had his eye on the priestess from Itthon- she looked like the malefica- curves on curves. He looked over his shoulder, at Beverly, and smiled.