#ltcgsb

Themoment the pain passes, though, the huge wolf stretches, curling his tail overhis back, almost forming a full circle.

A whiffof cinnamon catches his attention, nostrils flaring as he sniffs at the air. Inhis mind, a map forms, the scent zigzagging through the trees, tracing a trailto his treasure. There’d be a smirk on his lips if he still was in human form,but the glint in his bright blue eyes is still there, the thrill of the huntexciting him almost as much as the thought of burying himself inside of Emmadoes.

Aye,there is something sexual about it. Killian’s found out that the instincts heonce tried to forcefully ignore are now back full force. He can’t bring himselfto regret succumbing to them, not when he finally feels so free.

Hisstance is graceful, Emma would comment it’s unfair how graceful he is, both inhuman and wolf form. Whenever she does that, Killian replies telling hersomeone needs to compensate for her lack of coordination when not running inthe woods. She’s never amused.

What sheis now, however, is on the run, and that means the wolf comes out to play,every deepest desire and instinct set free. There still are boundaries torespect, of course, but they always make sure they’re safe.

Thankfully,they’ve only run into other wolves just a few times, only once or twice gettinginto a fight because of some primal urge that screamed at Killian to protectand hurt whoever wanted to even lay eyes on his mate.

Ah, yes,the mate thing. That’s quite interesting: Emma does indeed have the mark of histeeth on her skin. She’s magicked so only supernatural creatures can see it, sothey know Emma is his. For the humaneyes, instead, there’s his mother’s wedding ring adorning her finger. From hispart, Killian has the Cygnus constellation tattooed on his right wrist, drawninside the head of a wolf howling at a full moon. He hopes he’ll soon be ableto wear a wedding ring and make things official, but of bloody course wantingto marry a goddess is not easy.

The wolfshakes his head, focusing back on Emma’s scent. It’s richer, now, but notbecause he’s close. Killian stops, tilting his head. One more sniff and heknows: she’s bleeding. Not so much to alarm him, he can still feel theadrenaline mixed to her scent. Apparently, he’ll have to add another scar tothe map he’s already made of her body.

With hisheart at peace, Killian resumed his run, trying not to be tempted by themouth-watering scent of a rabbit. Sometimes, he would catch trace of a deer, butwith them being a symbol of Artemis, he has to play nice. If wolves could pout,Killian would decidedly do that many times. Such a pity.

Thinbranches would break under his paws if he wasn’t so fast, slightly stompingover the leaves-covered ground. At first, he was careless, making so much noisehe cringed internally, but now, now he’s become deadly. It thrills Emma: sheloves being the prey after years of being the huntress.

His eyescatch a movement at his side.

She’swearing black, tonight, a dress she hid by a cloak so he wouldn’t know what tosearch for, only her unique perfume. The only two things that remain the same arehow her hair are always down, bouncy mesmerizing curls that threaten to almostturn him into a bloody feline, and that she’s barefoot. This way, she’s alittle more quiet than she usually is, but not as much as she thinks she is.

Biting back a victorious howl, Killian closesthe gap between Emma and himself, clearly hearing her short breaths, puffs ofair forming white-grey clouds in front of her.

Onejump, and he is on her, fast and lethal yet gentle enough so he won’t hurt hertoo much.

Emmagrunts as they roll on the ground, her fingers tightening in Killian’s soft furto keep him close, her face buried in the thick hair of his neck.

Killianfinds himself half on top of her, trying as usual not to put too much weight onher. On the contrary, he quite loves when she’s on top of him.

His warmtongue sweeps over her cheek, and it’s not like he’s tasting her, but markingher instead. Killian has other ways to tasteher.

«Helloto you too, good boy,» she teases, bringing her hand up to scratch behind hisear. That traitor of a tail he has begins thumping loudly against the ground, sweepingthe dead leaves away. His tongue lolls out of is mouth, and he bears that wolfcliché only because of the way Emma’s smile widens at the sight.

Theystay like that long enough that he even becomes a bit sleepy, his head restingon Emma’s chest, the calm beating of her heart a tempting lullaby. It didn’thelp that she was running her long slender fingers through his fur, much likeshe did his hair whenever they were in the same position but both in humanform.

Themoment Killian feels she’s starting to drift off, he reaches out with his headand gently nips at her jaw, making her frown and open her eyes. The lazy smileshe gives him shine brighter than all the stars in the sky. He’d snort at howcliché it sounds if it wasn’t true.

«I know,I know, I’m going,» she mumbles, gently pushing him off herself. She plants akiss on his nose, briefly brushing the tip of her own against the wet blacktruffle, a she so lovingly calls it. After another kiss – or ten – on hismuzzle, that earns her a content growl low in his throat, Emma disappears in a cloudof smoke. She’ll sleep, or try her best to, and then reappear in time for hisshift.

Hisnight is, alas, uneventful, which makes Killian furious: some needs must besatisfied; he’s had his hunt, the one for himself, but the wolf demands his ownhunt, too.

Thefeeling lingers after he shifts, stark naked as dawn filters through the tightceiling of leaves above his head. A twig snapping behind him makes him whirlaround, fingers curled like claws ready to strike.

It’sEmma. Of course it’s her, but it does stop his hunger, neither his or thewolf’s. In fact, her presence intensifies it.

Shedoesn’t even have the time to realize what he’s doing that Killian is on her,pinning her against the nearest try as she so wished earlier.

His warmmouth goes straight for her throat, but not to suck a mark there, no. Emma whimpers when his scorching hot tonguetraces the scar of her claiming bite, and it’s like marking her all over again,whit Killian’s brain screaming mine, mine, mine.

«You’rein trouble now,» Killian growls against her ear, before licking the shell ofher ear. «The wolf has caught his prey.»

Killianfeels her shiver against his body; he’s rapidly growing hard against her lowerbelly, the thrill of the night and the scent of Emma’s arousal, which he betsis dripping down her thighs because she alwayswears none whenever he shifts. And a few other times, too.

Emmamoans at his words, fisting dark locks of hair to keep him there, but alsoknowing that it drives him crazy with want and need. «What if-» She’s cut offby his teeth grazing her shoulder, the strap of the Greek-like black dressfalling down her arm. She already feels the cold air on her breasts, hernipples harden at the sensation. «What if it’s exactly what I wanted?»

With agrowl, Killian rips the already low front of the dress with a very satisfyingsound, her gasp going straight to his cock, now hard and heavy between histhighs. He’s growing impossibly harder as he fills his lungs with her arousedscent. He wishes he could spend the eternity between her legs, making herwrithe in pleasure and quench the thirst he has of her.

Pullingback slightly, Killian tsks, a wicked gleam in his eyes and a dark grinspreading over his face. Emma knows which Killian she’s looking at: he’s stillthe predator, she’d go as far as saying he’s still more wolf than human, butit’s her Killian nonetheless.

A shiverruns down her spine at his next words.

«I wantto hear you beg for it.»

Thedress falls in a heap at their feet. Beautiful,Killian thinks as his eyes roam hungrily her body. He wants to suck on thosepert nipples, wants to suck marks from her throat to her mound, and then fallon his knees to tongue her into oblivion, drinking from her dripping pussyeverything she’s ready to give him.

But hewon’t. No, like the predator he is, he wants to keep her on her toes, wants tohear her beg for his cock. It’s the polar opposite of torturing her with hisfingers or mouth or toys, but it still is torture. And oh, does Killian love torture.

Hemerely keeps looking at her straight in the eyes, tongue peeking out to tasteher flavour on his lips, a sweet prelude to what’s to come.

Soonerthan expected, Emma breaks, arching her body so it presses against him, herripe mounds catching is attention and making his mouth water. He can’t losefocus, he won’t give in: he needs to be in control.

«Please,Killian» she pants, deliciously rubbing against him. Killian’s eyes are enrapturedby Emma’s nipples. The more he stares, the more he wants to lap at them like astarving pup, and it’s not the first time he fantasizes about an actual pup, their pup, being the one to feed fromher breasts. For that, though, they have all the time in the world.

«Pleasewhat?» he growls, nuzzling the tender skin behind her ear. «Tell me what do youwant, love, tell me what do you need.»

Emmawhines, writhing against him. She’s desperate, her blood boiling beneath her skin,more arousal running down her thighs, making him drunk on it. «I need you!» shecries out, rubbing her wet cunt against his cock. He almost gives in, but hewants more, and she knows that. «Please, Killian, I want you to fuck me, to putyour cock inside me and make me come.»

Hegrowls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. «And don’t you want me tocome? Don’t you want me to come deep inside you, fill you up with my seed, somuch it’ll overflow even if I’m still buried inside you?»

A strangledgasp leaves her throat, her fingers tightening around his hair. «Yes, fuck, yes, Killian,» she moans, bringing herselfclose to him and trying to kiss him. Killian complies, finally kissing herhungrily.

Hesweeps his tongue across her lower lip, making it more tender for when he bitesdown on it half a second later. Without any effort, he slides his hands downher side to her arse. Before wrapping them around her thighs, Killian squeezesher buttocks, earning a moan he drinks from her lips as he traces her teethwith his tongue.

In aswift move, he lifts her up and enters her, moaning at her scorching hot heatenveloping him. «Fuck, love,» he hisses, bottoming out, «you’re so hot andtight. I’d spend the eternity buried deep within you.»

With herarms wrapped around his neck and her back pressed against the bark of the tree,Emma nods frantically, shifting her hips in rhythm with Killian’s deep thrusts.Her walls clenched around his cock, her orgasm already building, that kind offoreplay driving her so close to the edge she should feel ashamed, but she isn’t,because she knows neither Killian or herself will be sated by one orgasm.

«Comefor me, my goddess, come,» Killiangrowls the command in her ear, biting down on her lobe as he rolls his hips,hitting her depths and relishing in the tightness of Emma’s cunt. She’s perfectfor him, made both for his soul and body.

She shatterswith a scream, music to Killian’s ears as he keeps thrusting up into her, herteeth grazing his lobe threatening to make him spend himself too early. He wantsher to come one more time, knowing he will spend the day making her writhe inpleasure and come over and over. It wasn’t just the full moon, they do have quitethe active sexual life, but he isslightly hornier than usual around those days or, as Emma loves to call it, hisversion of “that time of the month”.

Snappinghis hips up, he grinds his pelvic bone against her clit, his hands already occupiedkeeping her up and squeezing the flesh behind her thighs. He loves when shecomes only thanks to his cock, no other stimulation needed.

«I loveyou,» Emma keens, tightening her legs around his waist, her knees pressingagainst his sides.

A shiverruns down Killian’s spine at her words. Though they’ve been together for years,those three words still have the same effect on him as if it was the firsttime. He pulls away slightly, never stopping moving, to look her in the eyes.«I love you,» he replies, even if it sounds more like an oath, a promise to keeploving her forever.

And hewill, he knows he will, much like he knows he won’t last long, he only needsEmma to come again. He kisses her deeply, curling his fingers to scratch hersoft skin. He knows he’ll fully enjoy tending her wounds, kissing every inch ofher skin.

They’remore desperate, now, both wanting to crash. Killian already feels that tinglingat the base of his spine, the continue clenching of her cunt telling him she’sclose, that she needs one little push. He caves, ducking his head and taking anipple in his mouth, suckling on it.

Nails diginto the back of his neck and Killian reacts instinctively, grazing the hardpeak with his teeth. The pressure of the flat of his tongue against the neglectednipple is all it takes for Emma to come and milk him of everything he has asKillian comes, too.

Gently, ashe tries to catch his breath, Killian pulls her away from the tree, brushingaway what bark left on her skin, angry marks appearing over it already.

He lieson the ground, not caring that he’ll have to scrub away the dirt. Killian’sstill buried inside her, his come leaking from her as he slowly softens.

«You’recrazy,» Emma sighs, rubbing her cheek over his heart.

At that,Killian smirks. «Aye, crazy about you.»

A sharppain blooms at his side. She’s pinched him, clearly annoyed, but he can stillfeel her smiling still. «So cheesy.»

«And youlove me for it.»

Shedoes.

A whineleaves her lips when she rolls her shoulders. «You’re in big trouble, young man,»Emma huffs, knowing a wave of her hand could easily heal the scratches the barkleft on her back.

A widegrin spreads over Killian’s face. «Will you punish me, my Goddess?»

Thosewords paint Emma’s skin a deep red. After – finally– discovering the wonders of sex thanks to Killian, Emma has started to discoverherself, too. With him, she’s finally testing her limits, what she likes andwhat she doesn’t. And, besides being the perfect prey for a famished wolf, she can’thelp but enjoy staying true to her nature, being the Huntress, being a Goddess.And, well, Killian enjoys being the wolf she has to tame, the man who sometimesneeds to be punishment.

She bettersettles her knees to his sides, lifting herself from his chest but keeping himburied inside her. He’s starting to get hard again. A grin forms on her face.«Is that what you want, boy?»

The night is pretty humid, something that irks him, meaning he’ll find insects abounding and, ugh, mosquitoes. He sighs, taking a swig of his spiked hot chocolate – cutting off the alcohol has been pretty easy, to his surprise.

He loses himself in the night, its sounds and scents, the air musky opposite to the sea’s salty one, the breeze ruffling his hair. It’ll rain soon, if he has to guess, he’d say in about an hour, enough to gather his belongings, extinguish the fire and get cosy in his sleeping bag.

Looking up at the sky, what little patch of sky visible through the leaves, Killian sighs again. Usually, he feels at peace, or, well, as much as he can when shadows of the past torment him, but lately, lately he feels lonely.

For him, it’s not something new, he’s felt like that many times. Now, though, it’s different: he feels as if he’s wasting away, rotting like an apple. He knows love isn’t the answer, and he does have people who love him, but his heart knows it’s not enough.

He chuckles dryly at that. His heart should be considered as hard as a rock, unloving after what happened with Milah, just like he’s unlovable. What little friends he has would probably differ, because they, somehow, love him. Killian just… Killian wants more.

When he sees a shooting star fall from the sky, his eyes widen in wonder, and he wishes, he wishes for that kind of love people can only dream of very few find.

As they say, however, be careful what you wish for.

He wakes up writhing in pain, not knowing why he feels like that and- is that a bloody bite on his side? A whirlwind of emotions sweeps through him: confusion, fear, anxiety, shock only few of them as he looks at the slash in the tent’s fabric, spread wide open like an open wound.

It hurts, it bloody hurts and the pain doesn’t stop, only fades a little. Rapidly, in the middle of the night with his sweat-soaked clothes aiding the cold of the night to sink deep into his bones. His teeth chatter a bit, even.

The drive home seems like a drug-induced trip, every detail so enhanced they appear to not belong to this world.

Killian needs to sleep. And to see a doctor. Whale would probably kill him as he pretends to cure him only because he woke him in the dead of the night.

In the morning, after he collapses on the bed, the wound tended as best as he could without needing stitches or anything more than an unholy amount of disinfectant, the realization that he doesn’t even need to see Victor leaves Killian astonished.

On his fair skin, not even a scar could be seen. He couldn’t have dreamt it, he just… couldn’t. But he knows, however, that he can’t tell anybody what he saw. Or, at least, what he thinks he saw. What did he see, exactly? He’s never seen whatever beast bit him. It makes the hair at the base of his neck rise in apprehension.

Trying to forget all about it, Killian goes on with his life, never mentioning it to any of his friends. He goes out for drinks after work, he investigates cases that make is stomach churn in disgust, like the one about an abusive husband. The whole affair is a messy thing, one he can’t quite explain.

Killian is a good cop, a brilliant one, some would say, but one thing is connecting clues and being able to see evidence not many can see, another is hearing the woman’s panicked heartbeat as she convincingly tries to protect the monster she’s naively married.

Of course, Killian just brushes it off, hoping it would be an isolated case.

It’s almost as if his prayers are answered since he doesn’t experience anything like that,

Until, two weeks or so later, everything changes.

He wakes up in the middle of the forest, stark naked and soaked to the bone, his skin so cold it could turn water to ice at the contact.

How the bloody hell did he end up in middle of the middle of the bloody forest with no clothes on?

But Killian doesn’t have time to search for a plausible answer – if there even is one – because he hears an even breath, slow and deep, the complete opposite to his own, heavy and laboured.

Then he ears something else, something he can’t catalogue, as if something is being pulled, like-

An arrow flies right next to his head, nicking his right cheek, blood copiously pouring out of the wound. It’s a fortune the arrow only hit his cheek, is somehow enhanced senses allowing him to shy away enough to not be hit straight between his eyes.

Seething, Killian doesn’t yell, he stands up, not caring about his nudity, and runs towards the origin of the noise.

She’s fast, really fast, even with a bouncy quiver full of arrows around her hips, just like her hair does, not tied in a ponytail like someone would expect, but down in loose curls. But Killian, Killian is faster. He’s always been fit, not too much, but enough to move swiftly when needed. This time, however, he’s way faster than usual, the trees an indistinguishable green blur out of the corners of his eyes.

Soon, when is breath is inexplicably still long and low and not ragged, he catches up with her, pushing her to the ground, the fact that he’s naked not deterring him in the least. He straddles her hips, pinning her wrist to the ground, forcing her to release her grip on the bow.

She trashes under him, and he would perhaps think of it as foreplay if he only knew who the bloody hell she is.

«Don’t. Move.» he hisses through gritted teeth, blood dripping on her hair from the open wound on his cheek.

Of course, she does not listen to him.

Although thin, the woman is strong, and she almost manages to roll them over and best him. It’s all in vain.

In the end, knowing she can’t keep going on like that, his hands forcefully bending her arms behind her back, she stops moving.

«Alright, alright, alright, get off of me!»

In a deep, secret corner of his mind, Killian feels like he wants to… purr at the sound of her voice or obey in some twisted way. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, needing to focus.

«Sorry, love,» he says, voice dripping with sarcasm, «can’t do that.»

«If-» she starts, grunting in pain as Killian tightens his grips, cutting off her circulation, «if I promise not to do anything, will you let me go?»

«Bit to late for that, isn’t it?» There is something in him that wants to tie her down, although in a more enjoyable way. What the bloody fuck?, he scolds himself, shaking his head, more blood running down his cheek. He hopes he won’t need stitches. «Why did you do that? Did you want to kill me?»

«No!» she roars, twisting her neck to look at him, and his breath catches in his throat. Deep green meets blue, and he’s enraptured. For a moment, Killian’s mind empties, but the moment she speaks again he gains focus once again. «Well, yes, okay? I thought you killed the wolf!»

Now he’s utterly confused. «Wolf? What wolf? What the bloody hell are you talking about?»

«The black wolf, the one-» she cuts herself off, groaning and resting her head on the wet ground. «Ah, fuck, I should’ve understood.»

If possible, Killian is even more confused. And pissed. Not to mention, the lack of clothes and the fact that he’s slowly realizing tat he is indeed pressed against very luscious forms are getting to him. «Understood what?»

«Don’t play dumb, you idiot!» she spits, looking at him angrily out of the corner of her eye. «Understood that you are a werewolf.»

Killian’s eyes widen in disbelief. It can’t be, werewolves do not exist. Nothing like that does. Yet… No, it can be.

The woman under him sighs. «If you let me go – and please, put some clothes on – I’ll explain.»

Reluctantly, Killian does as she says, perhaps too confused and shocked by her words to actually still be listening to reason. All he can come up with is: «I don’t know where my clothes are.»

She rolls her eyes, or he thinks she does, since she’s now standing up, quietly brushing leaves from her clothes – pretty fitting clothes, now that he focuses on them, hugging her curves and- bloody hell, he’s naked. Gulping, he tries to think about something else, something awful, something like his colleague’s pranks.

«I can do something about that,» she says, keeping her back to him, before waving a hand.

A cloud of white-grey smoke envelopes him and, suddenly, he’s fully clothed.  He wants to ask himself what the bloody hell this is, but he thinks he’s made hell impossibly bloody already.

Finally, she turns around, and it’s like the sunlight penetrating through a cloud bank after dark days of continue rain. Her face is the most beautiful he’s ever seen, pale heated skin with a few smudges of mud on her cheek she’s now polishing off with her hand. Freckles cover her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, high cheekbones below green eyes. Finally seeing both, losing himself in those irises, is not justice to being glared at by only one of them.

She hums, bending to pick her bow and checking for any damage. When she finds none, she brings back her eyes on him. «I assume you don’t know what I’m talking about.»

Killian rolls his eyes. He wants to retort with some snarky remark, but he doesn’t, a spark of good form flaring deep inside of him. «Tell me what you know.» He glances around, suddenly uncomfortable. «Please.»

One of her blonde eyebrows arches, but she nods, waving her hand one more time. Again, he’s enveloped by a thick cloud of smoke, the ground disappearing from under his feet but he’s not falling, in fact, it’s just a flash and then a much harder kind of floor is beneath him.

Looking around, Killian feels as if he’s in a cage until he realizes he actually is in a loft and the woman, bow and quiver abandoned on the couch, is pulling out a box of cereals from a cupboard. He almost smiles at the scene.

«You want something?» she asks, glancing at him for a second before focusing on the bowl she’s filling with cereals and milk. «You must be famished after the shift.»

As if on cue, his stomach growls. «I’ll have what you’re having,» he replies, not above eating like a child himself, though he does try to stay healthy. The woman shrugs and indicates the table with a nod of her head. Killian sits down in one chair, looking around.

It’s a nice loft, exposed brick walls painted in some vintage way behind him. It looks like he’s in some 80s house, old but nice decorations orderly arranged. Somehow, he doesn’t think it fits her. She’s more… messy. It doesn’t exactly bother him, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she leaves piles of clothes all around or one too many dishes in the sink.

«By the way,» she tells him, placing a purple bowl and a glass of orange juice in front of him, «my name is Emma Swan.»

«Killian Jones,» he automatically responds, watching carefully as she sits down in front of him. No, she doesn’t sit, not like people usually do, she sits with her legs crossed, much like a child. He’s amazed. Perhaps, he’s even a bit in love, too.

«So,» she starts, not caring that she’s munching on cereals as she speaks, «you know nothing about werewolves, do you? I imagine you still think of them as legendary slash supernatural beings. Long story short, they’re not. Like many things. Vampires, mermaids, sirens – big difference – shapeshifters, centaurs, elves, dwarves, fairies, all of them exist. And, well, gods too.»

He’s glad he’s yet to start eating because he would’ve spit it all out. This is impossible. As it should be impossible the fact that he’s been dressed up with a flick of her hand and now he’s sitting in front of her in a loft that could be on the other side of the world. Or perhaps not, since it’s still day outside, the sun telling him they’ve not changed time zone. It’s going to rain soon.

«I am, in fact, Artemis. Or, well, a reincarnation of sorts. Big war that ended all the Olympians and their essence was transferred into human beings, to keep them – us – alive. I actually never know who to introduce myself as, but I’m equal part Emma and Artemis, both souls intertwined.»

Killian tilts his head, trying to wrap his mind around that madness. «So you’re… what, more than two thousand years old? I apologize, I shouldn’t ask your age, but-»

«But you still don’t understand, I know.» Her kind, shy smile makes his heart flutter. «To answer your question, I am. But I won’t share how many years have been, a woman likes to keep her secrets, even if she’s a goddess.»

He can’t help but smile at that. «Are you still a virgin?» So much for good form.

Heat rises to Emma’s cheeks, eyes so wide he thinks she’ll get stuck like that. «W-well, t-t-that’s not what I-I… I don’t want to talk about this.»

But Killian bites back a grin: he has his answer, albeit not one he was actually seeking. «I beg your pardon, love, I shouldn’t have asked you anything like that. Please forgive me.»

She nods slowly, but her skin is still flushed. «A-alright, I, uh… werewolves. I, well, Artemis… ah, fuck, this is easier with the other Olympians. Okay, I am their guardian, but of course I can’t keep an eye on each one of them. However, I always feel when a werewolf shifts for the first time. I’m not involved with families of wolves, not when the parents raise them teaching them the limits and the rules. You need to stay safe, you don’t want hunters to kill you.»

He nods along, her words, somehow, making sense. «And you thought I was a hunter.»

Emma nods, chewing another mouthful of cereals. «I saw the wolf strolling around and wanted to wait until you shifted back to human form. But when I came across you, I got the wrong idea.» She quiets down for a few seconds, lost in memories. «I already lost various wolves because of hunters, I didn’t want to lose another. I’m usually there when they shift, never looking but still present. I was late to your shift. The fact that you were naked should’ve been a giveaway but…»

«You could’ve asked before shooting at me,» Killian says, clenching his jaw. He’s starting to get angry, probably because he’s forgotten all about the cut, the dry blood on his face not a good sensation at all.

She bows her head, nodding. Before he can ask her whys she was running away from him, however, Emma lifts her hand, a white glow emanating from it and, suddenly, Killian feels his cheek clean and the cut cicatrized.

«Thank you,» he mumbles, finally digging his spoon in the bowl and eating the now-squishy cereals. «Why did you run away?»

A laugh escapes from her lips, something halfway through a sarcastic and an amused one. «Trust me, you don’t want to face a pissed off werewolf. You all are a bit always too ready to snap, let’s put it this way.»

With a finger, he traces the rim of the bowl. «If you’re some kind of werewolves guardian, why don’t you control the wolves biting innocent people unwilling to become part of this supernatural world?»

Hurt flashes in her eyes as she sets her lips into a thin line. He’s not being fair, he knows that, as much as he knows what has been done to him isn’t fair either.

«All I can do, if you really want some sort of closure, is tracking down the wolf who changed you. I cannot give you your life back. I’m sorry.» As much as he’d like to, he knows he can’t get into a fit of rage right now. Emma doesn’t deserve this.

It’s strange, and it should be impossible, but Killian slowly accepts his role in this new supernatural world, Emma helping him with the shifts and to control his impulses, almost better than the anger management meetings.

They develop a friendship that borders something else, something neither of them want to name for the same reason: if she’s also the goddess of virginity, how can he sully her? She’s been true to her nature for thousands of years, he can’t believe he’s enough to let her go of that.

It happens anyway, and it’s fitting that it happens in the forest right before he shifts months after their meeting, her body pressed against a tree as he devours her mouth.

After being truthfully ravished, before the moon makes it way to the sky claiming Killian for the night, Emma whispers her love to him, and Killian knows he’s found his true mate. Apparently, things for werewolves are quite different than for normal humans. Yet, he wouldn’t change a thing.

Killian feels that tingle in his body, the one signalling the shift. After one last, passionate kiss and a love bite on her neck, Killian stands up, looking down at her with ravenous eyes. She stands, wearing a white dress, an old one – because of course she’s kept every dress she ever wore during her life – and pushes up on her bare tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then whispers: «catch me.»

With a laugh, she takes off, Killian grinning like a true predator as he shifts. It’s rapid and not exactly painless but still not very much enjoyable, though way better than the first few times. He’s glad he’s blacked out during his very first shift and doesn’t remember it.

The wolf blends in with the night, the only noticeable thing his glowing bright blue eyes. Killian lifts his head, sniffing at the air to catch trace of her scent, an indistinguishable flavour of cinnamon and sunlight. When he finds what he’s looking for, he smiles a wolfish smile before sprinting after Emma.