The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

One of the figures at the table breaks the silence. The womanly voice surprises Mora; too caught up in her anger before, she didn’t bother to examine Rick’s friends before her display of defiance.

“For heaven’s sake Todd,” the woman says, irritated, “she’s a slave not a princess!”

Todd, the Barman who pulled out her chair, rounds the table as he sets down mugs of beer for everyone. He sets down the woman’s mug roughly, causing its contents to slosh over the side, “Slave or not, she walks like a lady and I will treat her as such.” His voice is mocking but not at Mora’s expense, rather at the woman’s.

The woman snorts a laugh at him. Making a point, she wraps her large thick hand around the mug and brings it up to her chapped lips. When she tips it back she doesn’t stop until it is empty. Mora can’t help but look up from the table to the woman curiously; she wears similar clothing but her thick figure and small chest make her look more masculine. Her coarse, unwashed blonde hair is pulled back carelessly making her square face seem even less friendly. She slams the mug down, letting out a loud belch that would put any man to shame, “You never pull out my chair, Todd,” she says in a fake, girly voice.

“Perhaps if you didn’t stomp around like a cow-or smell like one-Sari, I would make an effort to treat you more like a woman,” he sneers at her.

Even though Todd’s rude comment takes Mora aback the whole table bursts out into laughter, even Sari. Aside from herself, the only one who doesn’t participate in the joke is Rick. His eyes wander over Mora; when she catches him staring at her with an odd expression on his face, her body begins to tingle, stomach fluttering. She swallows hard, feigning a smile at the joke, in an attempt cover her tracks lest he figure out about her past.

His voice, though amiable, lacks the secret tenderness that it has when he speaks to her alone, “Well, friends, this is my indentured servant, Mora. I expect you to treat her kindly,” Rick says before taking a long drink from his glass, “as she was assigned to me by our Queen.”

As soon as he mentions the Queen, the laughter comes to an abrupt stop when all eyes turn on Mora. She feels uneasy. Her eyes fall back to the table and she busies herself by figuring out what kind of wood it is made from.

One of the men to her right breaks the silence, “Rick, surely you wouldn’t take in another slave upon the Queen’s request, after the last one tried-”

Rick cuts him off, “She will be with us for a week,” he sets the glass down on the table. “Mora,” he calls to her. Her heart jumps as she eagerly looks up at him. She can see the other occupants of the table are still staring at her. Rick starts at his right, naming the people at the table, “This pathetic excuse for a woman is Sari. That is James, Lucas and Daniel. Todd is our Barman.”

Mora lets her eyes connect with each person she is introduced to, offering each a small smile. When she sees James and Daniel, she discovers that they share more similarities than just kinsmen-they are, in fact, twins. Both are skinny, boney men with almost white skin and golden hair. Their eyes, like Eric’s, are green, though not as bright. Lucas, who sits just to her right, is thicker than the twins but smaller than Rick. His hair is a shade darker but he matches them in paleness.

Lucas directs a question to her, “Tell us Mora, how you happened to become stuck in this forsaken place.” He raises his beer mug up and waves it around at the bar.

Mora looks at him, trying to come up with a vague response, “My… friends and I accidentally crossed the border by mistake. The road was… impassable. One of my friends was killed, two escaped and I was captured by three of the most brutish men I’ve ever met. I believe you call them ‘Wardens.’ A John, a Dell, and…” she briefly glances over at Todd, “An Eric.” There is recognition in his face.

James laughs, joined by Sari, “I would hardly call them friends, if they ran off and left you alone.”

Mora can feel her jaw clench, anger flaring at their laughter and their idea that her entourage abandoned her, “Yes, well, perhaps next time I will choose better traveling companions.” She meant for words to come out light heartedly, but they are thrown out like stones.

Rick looks at her, “Come now, Mora. I know that you aren’t telling us the whole truth.” She straightens in her chair, breathing slowly. He continues, “I have a feeling that your friends didn’t exactly leave you behind.”

She latches onto his blue eyes, her tongue lashing out a harsh response before she can stop it, “It makes no difference if they did or did not-I am the only one remaining in this hellish place.”

He gives her a tight smile as if amused by her anger, “If you won’t tell us the truth, we shall have to guess it,” he brings his hand up to his chin, pretending to think hard even though he already knows what to say, “I bet that you got bit by a borderwolf while escaping with one of your friends.”

“You got bit by a borderwolf?” James exclaims. Both Mora and Rick ignore him.

Rick continues, his hand moving from his chin to wave casually in the air, “Surely you would have known you couldn’t take down three Wardens by yourself, so I am guessing that you threatened to kill Dell so that another one of your friends could live. And you almost slit your own throat ensuring that your other friend did get out, isn’t that right?”

Daniel looks at Mora, “She tried to kill Dell and slit her own throat?”

The whole table bursts into laughter at the absurdity of the idea. Mora, for once, is thankful for their disparaging thoughts towards her though she still has to keep herself from getting angry. She is sure to someone who doesn’t know her or the stubborn people of Derven that the notion of a feminine, slender and attractive young woman killing a man or threatening her life for anyone seems ridiculous.

Rick’s blue eyes pierce through her. Taken by the outlandish, horrible situations that she has encountered recently and the informal, unstuffy atmosphere she is now subjected to, she feels ornery. Mora offers up a fake, sarcastic smile, “Yes, something like that. It appears your friends agree with your theory, Master Rickan.” The venom in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Rick.

Time seems to move more slowly; Mora stares at the table, eventually discovering that it is made from amberwood, a tree native to her homeland, due to its delicate grain and deep color. It must have been imported as planks. She comes to that determination since the desolate terrain here doesn’t offer enough sunlight to support a tree like that and the craftsmanship of the table is crude, at best. When she remembers that amberwood grows densely around Amyee’s house, she gets saddened by the thought that the wood in this table could have been planked by Franklin.

When asked various questions, Mora politely provides quick one or two word answers, always vague. She quickly gets over the fact that most of which are usually meant to insight humor at her expense. Perhaps if his friends don’t take her seriously, Rick won’t either.

After about an hour of staring at the table, Todd wanders over with several plates of food which he plunks uncaringly in front of James, Daniel, Sari and Lucas. He looks to Rick, “Will you be eating tonight, Rick?”

“No, just more wine for me, Todd.”

Todd looks over to Mora, “And you, miss?”

Because her stomach growls angrily while it tries to digest itself, Mora knows she is so hungry she would try to eat an animal raw. The fragrant scents of cooked meat and vegetables tickle her nose. She smiles faintly at Todd, “Please, thank you.”

Todd disappears for a moment, coming back with a plate and silverware. When he carefully sets it in front of Mora, taking care not to reach across her, she can’t help but smile. The roasted chicken breast is placed delicately on top of a bed of potatoes and squash, garnished with a sprig of rosemary. It almost appears that each vegetable was individually placed on the plate.

As Todd sets wine glasses around the table, Mora knows Sari is looking at her. She glances towards the other woman’s plate; her chicken sets next to a mess of potatoes without a garnish.

“What’s this, then? Are you becoming an artist, Todd?” Sari points to Mora’s plate. Mora hides her smile by tasting a tiny forkful of vegetables. They have a wonderful flavor.

Todd sneers at Sari, “What, do you get offended by everything that looks better than you, Sari? Sad to say, that isn’t a hard task to accomplish.” Mora can hear the other men snicker. She does not join in. Todd smiles to himself, pouring each of them a glass of thick, red wine.

“That’s it,” Sari slams her fork down on the table-Mora flinches, looking up at her. Despite her tough demeanor, she knows that Todd has hurt her feelings. Sari glares at her, “Let’s have a go, you and I. I will remind these men exactly how useless ‘princesses’ are. Come on then!” She stands with her arms folded over her chest, waiting for Mora to stand.

Mora chews her vegetables carefully. She looks from Sari over to Rick. He stares back at her, the look on his face lets Mora know that she is on her own. She knows it’s her own fault too because of her defiant actions earlier. She keeps chewing the vegetables even though they are thoroughly broken up in her mouth. The thought of fighting someone over something so petty makes her stomach churn. She tries to convince herself that Sari is just showing off, trying to make Mora look weak and feeble-even so, she doesn’t want to fight Sari because it is unwarranted as Mora agrees completely with her upset.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Oh sit down, Sari,” Lucas finally whines, “Let us finish our dinner in peace.”

“I will not yield until this whelp gets what’s coming to her,” Sari begrudgingly sits down. Mora thankfully swallows her vegetables and moves on to the chicken.

“Fine, if you like I’ll fight her after supper. But not you-you’re too angry. We wouldn’t want you breaking one of her delicate little appendages,” Lucas says; he defuses Sari’s anger quickly but Mora can tell he finds the idea of fighting her amusing.