The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

“Good day, Mora,” he says casually, as he always does when they are alone.

She can’t help but look over his toned, glistening chest before she smiles to him, “Hello, Franklin. Is Amyee about?”

“She went to town this morning but I expect her home soon. You’re more than welcome to wait in the house for her,” he smiles a lopsided smile and winks flirtatiously at her.

She shakes her head at his attempt to cheer her up, “I’m a married woman, don’t you know. Well, soon to be, at least.”

“Soon to be means you’re still off the hook, for a few days,” he grins widely before laughing at the aghast face she makes.

Shaking her head at him, she heads towards the house. Namora takes off Greystar’s saddle and reins, letting the horse wander off as she knows he will come back when he is needed. She sits on the porch for a while, basking in the sun. As the warmth starts to make her perspire, she goes inside in search of water. When she finds the water bucket empty, she heads to the well and draws some herself. Namora enjoys spending time at Amyee and Franklin’s house, as it lets her pretend to be normal. When they are alone, they don’t bother with the formalities of her rank. It is a rare occasion that she gets to spend much time there but she treasures it when she does.

After dragging the full bucket back into the house, she takes a long drink before filling another glass and walking it out to Franklin. She has to wait, again, for him to finish sawing the entire length of the plank before he stops. Thankfully, he takes the glass of water as Namora examines the wood.

“What a beautiful, unusual grain-is this amberwood?” She runs her fingers along the freshly cut log.

“Yes. I think the tree was sick-I found it lying dead behind the wheat field. Surprisingly, whatever it had gave it this odd grain.”

She stands back up and smiles, “Lucky for you-I bet this will fetch a high price at the market.” She reaches out to take his empty glass; he hands it to her but doesn’t let go. Their hands connect. Neither of them move. It takes a few moments before Franklin breaks the silence.

“You just say the word, Mora. I will leave this instant-surely they haven’t reached Alumenia yet. I will snuff out his life and be back for breakfast.”

“And who would want a widow, Franklin?” She knows she should skirt the subject but she can’t help herself. She desperately wants someone to love her though she finds herself incapable of truly returning the feeling.

His other hand brushes her cheek. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. When he tries a second time Namora cuts him off, saying something she knows she shouldn’t, “The answer is no, Franklin. I wouldn’t allow anyone else the pleasure of killing that man.”

He smiles at her, his hand resting under her chin. Anxiety begins to swell up in her chest as he slowly begins to move forward towards her. Though her mind screams at her to walk away, she holds her ground. The gap between them begins to close. She can feel his warm breath against her face.

Namora hears the old brown mare’s footsteps first. She shakes her head, giving Franklin a smile, “Too little, too late dear Franklin.” She snatches the cup out of his hand and turns to walk towards the house just as Amyee comes into view. Pretending that she didn’t hear the horse, Namora turns around and waves excitedly to her friend. Amyee dismounts and runs over to her, throwing her arms around the Princess. As the two embrace, Namora can see Franklin quickly grab his saw and begin to start another plank, unnerved that his sister almost caught him committing treason.

The two friends trot off to the house, where they sit happily on an old, threadbare couch.

“So, tell me about Irron. Is he as awful as he seems?” Amyee pries Namora.

She smiles and begins to retell the tale of her past few days. Namora is a wonderful story teller; she paints a picture of Irron being a complete gentleman that is hopelessly in love with her. She leaves out the part about the secret passage ways, sneaking out of the castle at night and the small threats he made, as well as the eerie dullness of his eyes. When she tells the part about Irron catching her in the orchard, she edits it so that his hand never reached up her skirt and omits the part about his metal vest; instead he tries to kiss her and ends up knocking her off of the bench, causing her to land on her wrist.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Amyee makes a good listener but she truly knows her friend, so she knows that a vast majority of the story is fiction. None the less, she gives Namora a warm smile, “Well it sounds like he is hopeless. At least he is handsome-just imagine how much worse it would be if he were short, round and bald!”

The two friends laugh gaily. “Well, tell me about your past few days?” Namora queries her friend.

Amyee smiles secretively. Before she starts, she asks, “Will you stay for dinner? I trapped two rabbits this morning, it is more than enough for the three of us.”

Namora nods happily. The two begin the process of hauling, heating water and filling the tub for Franklin. When it is mostly full, Namora shucks fresh peas while Amyee cleans the rabbits, the whole time telling her story of the past few days.

At the first dance, a man named Lucas asked her to do the Hunter’s Waltz. Amyee has liked Lucas for years but has been waiting for him to make the first move. After the dance, he rode home beside Amyee but was too nervous to ask her out again. Since then, he has conveniently shown up everywhere she has been. Franklin doesn’t know anything about it. She went to town today on the premise of buying some herbs she couldn’t find in the woods, only to run in to Lucas again. He walked her back to her horse this morning and when no one else was around, he leaned in, kissed her on the cheek and asked to see her again.

The two giggle happily-Namora, able to forget her troubles for the first time in weeks, feels as free as a bird. The sun begins to set in the sky and soon they hear Franklin outside on the porch, taking his boots off. Amyee is mixing the cream sauce for the peas, so Namora grabs the last kettle of boiling water and wanders off to the wash room to temper Franklin’s bath.

She pours some water into the dark, wooden tub before sticking her hand in to check the temperature. She adds just a little bit more and rests the pot carefully on a folded towel. Behind the tub on the wall is a beautifully crafted rack which holds dozens of dried herbs and scents for the bath. Namora hums to herself, picking out a few. She smells each carefully, selecting some fresh pine needles, dried herbs and cedar shavings. She puts them into a small cloth napkin and ties it with a neat bow before she crushes the contents to release the scent. Inhaling it deeply, she kneels by the tub and submerges the packet, swishing it around before letting it sink to the bottom. As she rises, she picks up the pot and turns to leave, only to find Franklin watching her curiously. She offers a small smile, feeling awkward about him catching her tending to his bath just so.

He shakes his head at her, “If I were to tell anyone that the Princess of Derven drew me a bath, they would laugh at me as if I had lost my mind.”

She blushes a little, “I’m just doing what anyone woman would.”

“Amyee never scents my water,” he huffs.

Namora walks by him, shoving him slightly as she laughs, “Well maybe I prefer my men to smell less offensive than she does.”

The three of them eat a delicious, humble dinner. They tell stories and laugh happily; Amyee lets something slip about Lucas and the two girls spend an hour convincing Franklin that he is a good man and won’t do anything unsavory to Amyee, the whole time Franklin playing like he will strangle him if he comes near her again.

Finally, when the moon is high in the sky, Namora takes her leave despite Amyee’s pleadings.

“I would love to stay but father expects me back at the castle tonight,” she lies. She gives Franklin a small smile goodbye before Amyee walks her out.

After whistling for Greystar he comes barreling up to them out of the woods. Amyee puts on his saddle while Namora fixes his bridle. Just before she mounts the horse, she stops, “I almost completely forgot why I came here in the first place. I was wondering, if you weren’t doing anything at the end of next week, could you possibly come to Alumenia and be my matron of honor?”

Amyee bursts in to tears; though she pretends them to be happy, Namora knows they aren’t, “Of course I will, Mora.”

After hugging farewell, she mounts her horse and disappears into the night. CHAPTER 9: ENTOURAGE

Having, to her guilt, lied to both her father and Amyee, Namora has the freedom of the night to herself. She directs Greystar to the archery range just outside of town. Though the night has completely taken over the land, the new moon shines brightly enough to provide her with some light. She doesn’t have her bow but this morning she did pack her throwing knives.

After she puts on her leather gloves, she counts off paces and takes her stance, perpendicular to the targets with her feet shoulder length apart. Slowing her breathing, she twists her torso towards her fake foe, concentrating on the bull’s-eye before releasing each knife in succession. All hit their mark. She doesn’t need the practice but she enjoys the burn in her muscles so she repeats the process over and over again. It has been a while since she has trained; since she got engaged, Laren refused because the idea of a bride with a black eye wasn’t a good thing.