Grey's Tribute

Cycle Of The Moon

There's a hardness that has set into the Northerner after our altercation. He's closed himself to me, no longer trying to get me to share his food, no longer seeking my company out. He speaks to me curt and to the point.

He's business-polite, no affection coming from him. I catch his eye every now and then, taking in my physic, my changes. This brings on jaw clenching and muscle twitching as he tries to fight his compulsions for me. He understands what's happening to us. He's affected by me, just as much as I'm affected by his changes.

I think that's why he's trying very hard to keep his distance. He's fighting his natural instincts, denying his primal urges. What he's doing is a perversion, it goes against everything in our make up. We're wolves: we eat, we fight and we mate, that's what we do.

There's an explosive tension when we are in the same room together, making the members of the pack feel uneasy.

I can tell by the way they fidget in their seats, by how their eyes go from the Alpha's to mine. The smell they give off is an uncomfortable peppery spice that leaves your nose itching in irritation.

He's like a ghost, filtering in and out undetected by me. His scent still lingers in the rooms he's been in, just moment before I enter. I find myself stalking him, trying to get close, like in a game of cat and mouse.

Trepidation sinks heavily within me, with each passing phase of the moon. Just as the moon pulls the tides in and out, it has a pulling effect on my body's natural rhythm.

It started subtly with my hips becoming slightly wider, a curviness that's taking shape. Ever so slightly, my chest is becoming fuller, heavier, to the point I'm spilling out of my bras. I catch the Northerner staring, squirming, seeing his desire so blatant it brings a smile to my face.

The color of my lips is darkening, my hair getting longer and thicker. Only once he's touched me and that was to run his fingers through my hair, bringing it to his nose and smell deep before mumbling something incoherent and stomping away from me.

There are not enough calories to be consumed in a day. It's non-stop eating to prepare my nest for a future my body want's to house.

The moon's changing cycles are preparing my body gradually for its first heat. Little changes happen every day, but it's my mind that has suffers the most. My dreams are becoming too intense. All I dream about is his touch, his lips, his body. I wake up with violent cravings for him.

The aura around me will start changing along with the taste of my skin. It will be sweet, like ripe fruit ready to be plucked. An intoxicating smell will have the Northerner drunk with lust for me.

With my bodies hormones surging in my system, it brings about all of the Northerners changes as well. Males go into heat with their mates, their bodies changing just as much as females.

Males always becoming more aggressive, with an amped up supply of testosterone coursing through his system. His features are chiseling out, his male spice even more prominent. His muscles are tightening up, his endurance and strength are increasing. He's packing on weight, eating more and more at every meal.

So as the moon enters its final stage high in the sky, so too does my body awaken it's suppressed desires....the moon's sway of bringing mates together.

Lying awake in the dead of night, I can smell the northerner, just in the other room. His male rich scent is driving me wild. Fisting the covers in my hands, I squirm and fidget on top of the sheets. I have to fight the compulsion to go to him.

I'm restless, the energy of the full moon is calling out to my nature. I'm going crazy with the thought of him. I want to feel his skin scrape against mine. Electric current pulses through my body. I need to taste his lips, his neck. I want to scratch his back, mark him.

I'm on fire with a need so basic, it's crippling me. The need to mate, to reproduce, to have him buried deep in me with his teeth sunk in my neck. I shudder at the thought of that, as my arousal for him heightens.

I have to cool myself off. I jump out of bed and I try to be as quite as possible as I turn the cold water on in the shower. The harsh cold feels good against my inflamed body. Sitting quietly on the floor, I pull my knees to my chest. I wrap my arms around my legs, resting my forehead on my knees, letting the bite of the cold bring my temperature down.

I try to be as still as possible, but my mind is a hurricane of thought. A rush of emotions and images flood my brain. I don't dare move a muscle, not one twitch, because if I do, then it's over for me and I'll be running into his room, begging him to take me.

I close my eyes tight as the water runs into my mouth, drenches my hair. Squeezing myself tighter, I fight on the war inside my head. I'm afraid that if I go storming in his room, he'll make good on his promise and collar me again. But in the haze I'm in, I'm thinking it's worth it just to feel his body against mine.

All I can think about is him, his body, his husky voice in my ear. I moan with the pleasure it gives me, just thinking of him.

I'm cold. The water has taken away some of my fire and my teeth are starting to clutter, as shivers rack my body. I don't dare get out. I'm locked in place, afraid to move.

I hear the door to the shower open, but I don't move, just hug myself closer. I'm not to be trusted. I can't look at him, if I do, it's over.

"Meela." His voice is so smooth, so deep. "Can you get up?"

I shake my head ever so slightly.

"I'm going to lift you up, okay?"

"You can't touch me," I choke out.

"I'm going to give you something to help you relax, okay?" His voice is an erotic assault on my ears. I can't even suppress the shudder it gives me. Feeling the sting of a syringe plunged into my arm, I hiss at the burning medicine.

"I'm going to pick you up."

As soon as hands meet flesh, it's over all composure, all restraint gone.

I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around him to feel his skin. He's walking me over to the bed as growls pound out his chest.

"Please," I'm begging him as I kiss his neck, his shoulder. My fingers are wrapped in his hair, trying to bring his mouth to mine. The taste of him fuels my fire and I'm heating up again. A painful raging burn ignites on the skin not touched my him.

"Please." I keep begging him for what, I don't know, but my pitiful pleas sound heartbreaking.

"Meela, forgive me, but I can't have you hurting like this when I have no intention of helping you through this," he says through gritted teeth. "It's best to sedate you till it's over."

Slowly, ever so slowly, he brings his lips closer to mine. My anticipation hangs in the air as he hovers a feather's breath away from me.

My soul stirs, feeling the light touch of his lips. I feel it everywhere. It's all consuming, I'm drowning in hunger for him.

I kiss him urgently, with passion. There's a fierceness in the way our lips meet, our hands in each other's hair.

"I can't." He captures my hands above my head. Turning us around in bed, he tries to calm my aching body until I relax enough to breathe properly.

"You make this so hard for me, my little wolf."

I'm growing sleepy and with his arms wrapped around me tight, I feel myself relaxing, floating in a drug induced sleep. Closing my eyes, I feel the softness of his lips on my head.

Author's Note

Extending version is in Grey's Tribute, Private Chapter Book