Bounds Of Love (BWWM) #Wattys2018

Chapter 14

His jaws are about to wrap around me when my wolf finally snaps. No longer caring about his size or position she decides to fight back, propelling our body to avoid his first attack. Then she immediately moves back in, growling in anticipation of the fight.

It would be smart to go on defense, so I don't taint my chances of getting into the pack anymore than I already have. But beating him, or at least matching him, is a matter of pride. The warrior gets a hungry look in his eyes, and I can tell he wants this fight of dominance just as much as I do.

In angst filled unity, we attack; bodies humming with rage and dislike, each hair on our fur rigid with tension, mouths frothing with anticipation. Our paws clash as we stand on our hind legs, pushing each other with mouths open in snarls.

I can sense that he's holding back - that he doesn't want to severely injure a visitor to the pack without reasonable warrant. With the added strength the forced shift has given me, I’m also holding back. I can't even imagine my own strength and the Moon knows I don't want to test it out on an important - likely dangerous - member of the pack.  

It's not a fight that would occur on a battlefield. It's not a fight for blood, not to maim or deliberately injure. But it certainly isn't pretty.

It's primal. It's domination.

We both attempt to bite the other. Fangs glinting like knives in the sunlight as they try to graze flesh and take hold long enough to show they're a threat. Saliva flies with our hungry snarls, flying from our mouths like carelessly hurled insults.

His paws beat at my chest with every chance he gets. His swipes are hard, intended to push me onto my back or cause enough damage that I give up. But I won't. The physical pain of his hits doesn't faze me. I'd rather have a battle of brawn over a battle of words any day. I'm a werewolf - scratches and bites heal fairly quickly. Especially in wolf form. And though each of his hits feels like a tonne of concrete is being thrown at my chest, I'm confident that mine are strong too.

Minutes pass as we try to get some leverage over one another. At times he's so close to my neck I can feel the strength of his pants and at others I'm close enough to his throat that I can sense the flow of warm blood waiting to be spilled beneath the surface.

As I go in for another attack my teeth graze over his muzzle, scraping across fur and heated flesh. As my body continues forward I cringe, knowing full well that I've put myself in a vulnerable position. Hot air puffs across the side of my neck and I freeze for a single second that almost costs me the fight. My whole body warms, blood pumping faster as I realise this could be fatal if we weren't in silent agreement of our limits. I shiver as I sense his jaw rear open then swiftly drop and crawl, managing to miss his fight stopping bite by mere millimetres.

Eventually we get bored of ceaselessly trying to bite each other and unanimously part, instead deciding to circle one another. One paw after the other, we move in a dance of wills. Dirt escapes the confines of the ground, swirling around our heavy footfall then settling back as fine dust. My eyes scan the sandy coloured wolf for weaknesses. A full head taller than me he will have more brute strength. But his body is more built than mine, meaning I will have the upper hand in terms of agility and flexibility. There's also more of him to bite.

A wolfy grin spreads across my face at the thought, bringing a deep rumble from the warriors chest. He sizes me up, lingering on my sharpened teeth. I remember grazing his face with these weapons with a sense of sadistic pride.

Try and bite me, I laugh in my head, I dare you.

We circle slowly again and again, assessing our partner. The air is thick with tension - with unfiltered blood lust. I'm almost reluctant to break the cycle of passionate fury, incase it takes with it the addictive adrenaline pumping through my veins. So I hover in a limbo, waiting for the warrior to strike.

Then, on a whim, I fling myself forward. My front legs touch the ground a final time as I use my hind legs to give me momentum. The jump adds height, enough to make it so he has to parry if he wants to have a chance. My jaw opens wide. His body lunges.

Then, a roar full of pure rage shakes my nerves. I drop to the ground in submission.

Why did my wolf stop: Because of the roar? In my confusion I can barely make sense of who roared - that there's someone powerful enough to override my survival instincts with a single potent sound. No, instead I feel annoyance. I fight my human urge to defy the command to submit, the urge to defy my wolvern body and resume what I stopped.

What business did this person interfering with our fight anyway? It wasn't like we were going to hurt each other.

Well, not too badly.

I glance at the warrior, expecting to see him stood tall and proud in all the self-entitled arrogance of a fighter. It registers that I'm not the only one on the ground in a position of submission. The warrior is lying down, eyes lowered, neck tilted to the side. My mouth gapes open for a second, which must look pretty dopey for a wolf.

I'm almost afraid to see who interrupted us now. To have this stubbornly powerful beast subdued they must be a powerful beta at least. My eyes nervously trail the dirt on the ground till they rest on a pair of sharply polished business shoes. It was… A businessman? The shock of seeing such unassuming shoes causes me to dart my eyes up straight away.

Surely this well put together man didn't make a sound so feral it took down the warrior. The man has straight, dark brown hair that is neatly combed to the side. His jawline is strong, as is his nose which sits ramrod straight in the centre of his strangely attractive face. His looks slim in the suit, but fills it out nice enough that I can tell he must be packing some secret muscles. Compared to the defenders, who are slowly starting to disperse back into the depths of the trees, he looks like a Prince. Or a governor of some kind. He reminds me of someone, but I can't quite make the connection. It's when his deep brown eyes connect to mine that I make the connection between him and the warrior. Relatives. Great.

“Shift.”

My bones automatically start to break and mend to fit my human shape. Organs morph, muscles shrink and I'm left huddling my knees on the floor where I started. My bottom tickles as the breeze passes, and a blush seizes the entirety of my body.

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A/N

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Updates changed to Saturday to work with my school schedule.