This is just a sample text of my writing. Heat in female wolves usually makes them horny, and in this case, she's the horny one.
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The serenade of the black wintry sky is filled with a choir of stars that sing patterns across the dark, each musical note wavering in the air and seeping into the warlord's room.
The silence is broken by such song, along with the restless shifting of covers as River lies beside him in unsettled slumber.
Something slips through her blood and she turns, unconsciously slinging her leg around Hadrius' waist, but the brushing of sweltering skin is enough to shed hairs of sleep from her mind. Peeling one hesitant eye open, she peers briefly around the room through a hooded lid, then slumps back onto the pillow beneath her.
There, she finds herself torn between the carousel of ideas that fill her awakened mind and the whispers of sleep that still call back to her.
River sighs against her arm. An itch dances along her nose but she brushes it away, following the movement of her hand to the slumbering behemoth beside her.
The twisted bedsheets do little to conceal the magnificence of the man stolen by the night, dark lashes framing marble-cut cheekbones and lips parted, reddened and wet even in his sleep.
Almost gracefully, the curve of his bicep and forearm beneath his crown of hair melts into a hardened torso that River is all too familiar with; each golden plane, each firm ridge narrows from broad shoulders into a waist that is smothered by silken sheets.
Mild displeasure soaks the human at the fact but she soon finds herself enraptured by Hadrius' complexion once again. A spell thumbs over her emotions.
The slope of his sharpened nose.
The masculine curve of his jaw.
Midnight hair woven with strands of gold that only catch in the sunlight.
Intently, River's gaze cruises from feature to feature, eyes narrowing to slits in search of some flaw or frailty that may befall the man, but she finds none.
She sighs softly, another warm breath billowing onto her arm as she scrutinises him, searching painfully for an answer as to when he had first begun to look so... beautiful. The girl almost grimaces at the word, lips threatening to contort in distaste but finds that they cannot.
Because that is what Hadrius is.
Beautiful.
The knowledge of seeing him so wholly and vulnerable feels almost ethereal and foreign. Her fingertips lightly brush the masculine curve of his shoulder, tracing a faded white scar that looks jagged, almost painful. She follows the haggard path towards his neck where thin lines begin their descent down his back.
The whippings he took for her had occurred less than a year ago, yet the memories still paint themselves vivid beneath her dark lids.
Hadrius on his knees, defiance burning bright in his demeanor before Novus. There had been no shame or regret in his countenance; and many a times, River had feared he would turn one day and look at her in the same demeanour - with regret.
He had not.
Beneath the relentless rain of blows, the warlord remained unyielding to the pain that travelled down his powerful body in rivers of red, and steadfast in his resolve in opposing the Alpha's volition; Hadrius was stone, she realises, weathered and yet unbending to the forces of nature around him.
He had sacrificed his pack, his loyalty, and all that he had grown accustomed to. For her.
Such sacrifices, River was not accustomed to. The realization that someone could and would give for her while not expecting anything in return casts a summer warmth over her chest, spreading low like a fog that slowly eases up her throat.
"Why is it that you growl at this ungodly hour, pup?" The warlord's voice is thick with slumber, and she blinks as her attention lifts to him.
River realizes then that she had been purring whilst watching him, lost in the emotional sentiment that casts fingers of flames across her cheeks. Her hand slides across his chest, tracing battle scars.
"I wasn't growling," she utters and his chest deflates with a heavy sigh.
With his eyes still shut, Hadrius turns to her. She studies his brows, rubbing them back and forth with one finger, then trails lower to his nose, feeling the steel bone beneath, further down to his petalled lips which she rubs. Applying subtle pressure, she slips her thumb into the warm cavern of his mouth.
River's purring increases in volume as she feels his scythe teeth, deeper still until her thumb brushes his soft tongue.
The warlord bites down on her thumb with firm pressure, stilling her intrusive actions. His hooded eyes open just slightly to regard her cynically. "Yes?"
She watches him openly. "I love you."
Hadrius studies his mate for a drawn moment, then releases her thumb with an exhausted sigh. His eyes droop shut whilst he says, "I love you too, now sleep."
River places a palm on his cheek, tentatively stroking his cut cheekbones. "I love you," she murmurs once more, trailing her fingertips along his Spartan jawline.
His eyes shift restlessly beneath dawn eyelids. "I know you do."
River touches his throat, feeling the tidal rise and fall of his Adam's apple. "I love you."
"Stop that," he chastises vaguely and she does, if only for a deceiving moment. Her palm has a mind of its own, however, and rubs his chest, tweaking a pierced nipple, feeling the cool metallic bar brush her fingertips.
"I really love you, Hadrius," she confesses, gazing up at him imploringly. The affectionate stroking continues, skimming indulgently over his torso, rising to appreciate the fine marble-cut structure of his face: neither sloppy, nor awry. Perfect.
"I love you so much," she admits, slipping her palm beneath his arm and onto his back, wistfully following the silken curve of his spine lower and lower until reaching his firm behind. She cups one cheek and gives it an adoring squeeze. "I love y—"
The Warlord's eyes snap open, his movements a swift blur that she cannot keep up with— his large palm captures both her wrists and pins them to her chest. His body follows suit, rolling on top of her, imprinting her lithe figure into the mattress.
Air vacates her lungs at the sudden unbearable weight of him, but River can only think that she is breathless in love.
"Sleep," he demands, pressing his face into her temple, denying her space to turn her head and potentially smother him with kisses.
"I can't sleep," she mutters breathlessly, wriggling beneath the weight that anchors her down. Despite the barrier of clothing she wears, Hadrius' figure is distinct on hers, imprinting every flexed muscle and chiselled edge. His heartbeat is strong and steady on her shoulder. The heat of him suffocating yet welcome.
"I love y—"
"Pup," the Warlord's growl is deafening, hot breath tunneling her ear dangerously. "I will suspend you by your toes over the hellhounds should you continue speaking." He pauses, allowing the threat to sink, "understood?"
River nods, the words prickling her tongue. She waits a moment then speaks into the darkness; "Will you do it lovingly?"
He growls and begins to rise.
"I'm joking! I'm sorry—" her eyes meet his apologetically, "I'll stop, promise." River would not have minded the punishment, but the thought of his body vacating hers feels punishing enough. "Continue pinning me down, sir."
His body resumes its position atop hers and she exhales a sigh, electric thrills rubbing down her spine as he sinks along.
When darkness grows and the silence swells, River begins to purr.
River wakes to the hot prickling of her skin, a disturbing heat that licks her limbs, slipping between the length of her inner thighs and stirring slight discomfort at the crest.
She peers a tired eye open, automatically reaching across the bed for her mate— the man of her dreams. River opens the other eye when her palm brushes the empty space, cool from his lingering absence.
She rolls onto her side and studies the desolate stretch, then presses her face into the pillow where his head had lain the night before. Her chest expands like a balloon as she takes in his scent, allowing the familiarity to briefly soothe her mildly achy body. Like a dark elderberry it's skin drifts above her own, surreptitiously tinkering down her legs and when she shifts, the simple friction of her thighs presses on her moist pussy lips.
"Hadrius," River murmurs while rising from the bed.
"The warlord," she hums tunelessly while bathing and drawing on a white dress that adorns her shoulders, silken sheets plunging at the neckline and grazing her ankles, along with lazuli sandals with crisp blue straps. "My warlord."
The weather outside bleeds parallel to her moods. The lazy sun just hovering towards the center of noon shielded by a thin layer of grey winter clouds, dapples of golden light pressing gently on her bare shoulders, spreading warmth down the nape of her neck. River crosses the familiar pebbled path up towards the palace where she knows he will be.
Her eyes wander over the thick tracks of snow on either side, then down towards a group of soldiers wielding swords and armory. They move in a manner of leisure despite their kingdom having been taken, a possible state of anarchy, and it confuses River but only briefly when realizes how much relief they must feel over Hadrius' victory.
Cool air brushes her bare forearm, barely cold enough to abate the unfamiliar heat that still winds down her spine, wrapping its fingers along her inner thighs and edging further up.
River exhales and steps into the palace's open hallway, immediately seeking the warlord only to find him not far off.
Hadrius stands among five other men- all large and thoroughly intimidating with dark coats and golden crests embellished over their right breasts. Hadrius is speaking, the brown fur coat he wears a seeming invitation for her to burrow and hibernate in.
"... have their bodies lowered and burned at the altar, their ashes should be scattered by the river."
