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  Alone on the Plains

  Native Spirits #1

  by

  Claudia Balvenie

  Cover Art by

  iofoto

  @claudiabalvenie

  claudiabalvenie.com

  Copyright 2014.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  CHAPTER 1

  Emma was alone on the frontier.

  Her brother told her that going west was the right move. That surely there he would find his fortune and she would find herself a husband. At twenty-seven her family already whispered “old maid”. Meaning well, her brother promised that out west men were less discerning, and the fact that she was a bit larger than other women would not be an issue.

  She never thought it was. Emma was a hard worker who loved adventure. The invitation to accompany her brother into the wilderness was the most exciting one she'd ever received. Of course she'd go, and to Hell with what the old prunes thought. She would carve out her own livelihood with her bare hands.

  They'd found his forty acres out in Montana and immediately began to set up a homestead. She worked as hard as any man, growing strong in the harsh plains. Together they set up a small log cabin and began to work the land.

  Her brother was wrong though. There may have been other men in town, but his land was far from the city proper. She would go months without seeing another human, save her brother. He too was rarely around, having plenty of his own chores to handle. But the story was that anyone could survive the west if only they worked hard enough. She intended to prosper.

  After the first year, the two of them decided that it was time to invest in livestock. Farming and hunting kept them fed and gave a little more to sell, but in order to truly prosper investments would be needed. Of course, this meant he would be gone for a while, setting up the purchases and driving whatever animals he purchased back to their land.

  He was concerned about leaving her alone, but Emma waved away any worries. She had the old shotgun and a dozen shells. No one had ever stumbled upon their home on accident. Why would this trip be any different?

  In truth she was excited about the prospect of running a home completely on her own. She had so many projects she wanted to work on that he would just have nagged her about. Canning was messy business, after all! She was not afraid, only thrilled at being completely in charge of her own destiny for the first time in her life.

  And so he set out, taking their only horse and their better shotgun. She had sewn all their savings into his vest and wished him luck. It was gamble, of course, but what wasn't on the frontier?

  It had been four months. She'd heard nothing from him.

  She was beginning to believe he was never coming back.

  CHAPTER 2

  Yes, being alone had been wonderful in the beginning. Soon though, she'd run out of the projects that she'd set up for herself. She had expected him back after two months at the latest. She'd had to bring in the harvest on her own and begun to prepare for the winter. Her dried meat was running low, but she'd put away plenty of vegetables over the summer. She would have enough to eat.

  Still she worried. She had a story in her mind that he'd met some beautiful young woman on his travels, and had to slow down his plans in order to court her. Perhaps even now he was attending his own wedding, and packing up to bring his new bride to his land. She liked this story much better than the ones that crossed her mind, unbidden, in the middle of the night. Those were bloody, horrible, and left her huddled under her blankets.

  Fear has a way of creeping into every day life. When she believed her brother to be safe, she was content with everything at home. Once the dark thoughts wormed into her brain, she saw evil everywhere. If the wind blew in from a different direction, she worried. Overcast sky? She was worried. Weird sound outside? She took to sleeping with the shotgun next to her in the bed.

  The worst were the wolves. The year before she'd heard them from afar. She found their haunting song soothing, as if she and her brother were not the only living beings on these cruel plains. Now they sounded closer every night. She felt as if she were being stalked.

  This night she lay awake well into the evening. The moon shined in through their one window, open as they could not afford the luxury of glass. She swore the howls were closer that evening than ever. She could hear something outside, moving around, circling her cabin. She'd convinced herself it was only a deer or a buffalo until the howl sounded right outside.

  Unbidden, a scream escaped her lips. The part of her brain that could still reason kept shouting at her that she must not show fear, they would know her for prey. A wolf could devour a human just as easily as it might a deer. She covered her mouth in both of her hands, as if that could take pull the scream back from the air.

  A couple of deep breaths later and she was able to grab the shotgun. She held it up to the window, proud that she was only shaking a little bit. She pulled the hammers back and waited, counting to herself.

  A strange sound at her door threatened to pull her eyes away from her vigil. Finally she realized the wolf was actually scratching the wood of the door, as a dog might when he wanted in. But these claws were longer and far stronger. Fear crept up her throat.

  She must not give in to terror. The door was thick, she had helped to make it. Even with the strong, long nails of a wolf, they should not be able to scratch their way inside. At least, she didn't think so.

  Suddenly she saw it, a wolf had stood on it's hind legs and was pushing it's nuzzle into the open window. She did not hesitate. She pulled the trigger. Buckshot grazed the side of the wolf's face and part of it's shoulder. It yelped in pain and twisted down. In the bright moonlight she could make out the three lupine forms bounding into the forest.

  Heart pounding, she sank back to her bed. She knew she'd sleep no more that evening.

  CHAPTER 3

  It was still the middle of the night as she cleaned the floor and the window, trying to remove all trace of the horror that had visited her. Finally up to her standards, she began to cook breakfast for herself, needing something to keep her occupied.

  She'd just sat down with a biscuit and jam when a sudden knock sounded upon her door.

  Her brother! She jumped to her feet and raced to the door, jerking it open. He could not have found a better time to return. A stupid grin was plastered on her face as she looked up at the shadowy form before her.

  Instead, there stood a wolf man.

  She took a couple of steps back, a scream once more tearing from her lips.

  He was over six feet tall, his muscular body human in appearance, tapering into a wolf's claws below the elbow and knee. His face was that of a wolf's, with a prominent snout filled to the brim with sharp, bloody teeth. He must be some sort of Blackfoot creature, judging by the loincloth.

  Words danced through her head, demon, devil, monster. The creature before her was utterly unnatural.

  The creature's eyes slowly moved down her body, from her braided brown hair down to her ample breasts and lower. When he reached her bare feet, he began the journey back upwards. She felt naked to his inhuman eyes.

  “You have harmed one of my pack,” the deep whisper sounded.

  She took another step back and her hand grasped for the shotgun. A soft chuckle sounded inside her mind.

  “And now you wish to harm me?”

  She glanced to the gun, and back to him. Her hand opened and closed as she debated. She instead folder her arms over her chest.
r />   “Invite me inside,” the voice inside commanded.

  She hesitated, and once more glanced at her weapon.

  The voice grew heated. “Invite me inside.”

  Against her very demanding wishes, she found her lips moving. “Would you like to come in?”

  The creature ducked under the door and entered her small home. She cloaked herself in manners and gestured to her small table. He took a seat, his movements slightly off. It was as if his muscles were not quite formed the way a human's were. Perhaps he moved on all fours at times? Either way, it just highlighted his otherworldliness.

  She quickly brought him the other biscuit that she'd made and her best preserves. She poured him a glass of tea. Finally she sat down across from him, her own biscuit lying uneaten.

  He sniffed at the food, annoyance written on his lupine face.

  “Do you mean to insult me?” The voice inside her mind asked, heat in his voice.

  She answered aloud, stammering in fear and embarrassment. “I don't understand. These are my best preserves, this is a homemade biscuit, tea imported from the other side of the world. What would you like?”

  He pushed his claw against the biscuit absently. “Where is your new meat, your back fat? You live in the land of buffalo, why do you have no food?”

  She wrung her hands together in front of her. “I don't have any meat that isn't dried. I, I apologize Sir.”

  The creature made an unhappy sound and pushed the biscuit down his long muzzle. He then drank the hot tea in one long gulp, the delicate china appearing strange in his savage claw.

  Finished, he folded his hands in front of her. “You have harmed one of my pack.” He repeated inside her mind.

  “I...” she kept dry washing her hands. “I had to. They wished to hurt me.”

  His yellow eyes narrowed. He stood and walked again to her door, opening it. There he saw the deep claw marks. Once again, the unhappy sound escaped his lips.

  “They believed you to be prey,” he stated, matter of factly. “Do your men not teach you not to appear this way?” He began to look around then, taking the whole cabin in. He seemed to finally reach a conclusion. “There is no man here. You are unclaimed.”

  She was not certain how to answer that. She said nothing.

  He suddenly fell to all fours, closing the door behind him. He began to sniff at the floor, sniffing all the way to her. To her embarrassment, he began to sniff all the way up her legs, almost to her center.

  She stood up so quickly that it knocked over her teapot. The brown liquid soaked her dress and table, but she still backed away.

  “Sir, what you are doing is highly improper. I am a lady, and I...”

  “You are untouched. A virgin.”

  Her mouth dropped. Since he was no longer trying to shove himself into her lady parts, she began to mop up the spilled tea with her napkin, trying to think. “That is not a proper conversation topic.”

  Again his laugher sounded in her head. He took a few steps back and rose to his feet, standing every inch of his height, his tremendous muscles shining in the moonlight. She did glance at him, and promptly had to look away. He was savage male perfection, if not for the claws and wolf head.

  “I am the Wolf King, human.” He crossed his own arms over his chest, savagely smiling at her. “We shall discuss whatever I see fit.”

  She looked up to him when he announced his title. Fear made the towel shake in her hand, so she thrust it behind her back.

  “You have harmed one of my own. You must be punished.”

  She paled. “I was merely trying to protect myself!” she protested.

  “Indeed. That and the fact that you have no man to protect you are both entering into my decision. This is why I shall not kill you for your transgression.”

  She fell to her knees, her dress now in the puddle of tea. “Sir, I.. I truly meant no harm, I only wished to live!”

  “Indeed. And you shall live.” He took a few steps towards her, leaning down threateningly to her kneeling form. “As my mate.”

  A thrill ran down her body at his words. This god of a man wanted her? He wanted to be with her? But no, she knew better. “I cannot, my religion forbids..”

  “You would prefer the standard punishment for harming a pack member?”

  “No, I...” she stammered.

  “Stand.” He commanded.

  Reluctantly, she did as he asked. He lay his clawed hands upon her shoulders. Slowly he began to pull her dress down her arms.

  She shook her head, embarrassed. “This is not how it should be, I must be wed, I have saved myself...”

  He looked to her curiously. “You are mine now. That is stronger than marriage.”

  Still she tried to cover herself, even as he tried to pull her dress down. She slid her arms across her breasts. He jerked her arms away. “Your European clothing is inconvenient.”

  With that, he slowly ran his sharp claw down between her breasts. With one quick movement, the fabric tore under his fingertips. With a bit of a rip going, he could grab both sides and jerk her dress the rest of the way open.

  She was bare to a man for the first time.

  He took a sharp intake of breath as his eyes wandered her curvaceous features. She stood in a pool of her own clothing, flushed completely red as his eyes ravished his prize.

  “Kneel before me.”

  His clawed hands pushed her down to her knees, her eyes staring at the well worn loincloth at eye level. She was completely uncertain of what was going on now, in truth, her sexual education was quite lacking.

  “I want you to view your master,” the Wolf King said.

  With that, he divested himself of his loincloth, and stood before her proud and rock hard. She had no other contact to compare it to, but the object was as long as her forearm, and nearly as thick. Gray hair, thicker than on a human's, covered his legs and the base of his manhood.

  She did as he asked, and gazed at the magnificent organ.

  He held it with a clawed hand and slowly stroked it in front of her. A glistening drop escaped the head. That drop he leaned over and ran along her lips.

  “Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice deep inside her mind.

  “Why?” She asked, confused.

  “Now.”

  She did as he asked and he began to stuff that massive rod between her lips. Her eyes widened in fear. What sort of bizarre form of sex was this? Why would he want this? It was so big and the taste, well, it was like nothing she'd ever tasted before. Sweaty and masculine, the whole proceeding was downright dirty.

  The part inside her that wanted it urged her to widen her mouth. She wasn't sure why she listened, but she did, stretching it so that he might stuff more and more of himself inside.

  He took this as an invitation. His clawed hand moved to the back of her neck, guiding her into a position that he could shove himself deeper inside. She gagged, and tried to pull away, her arms on his thighs.

  Her protests only seemed to excite him more. He began to build up a rhythm, both clawed hands holding her head tightly unmoving. Nothing she did with her hands seemed to matter, though she pushed and tried to pull him away. No, he was using her as a device for his own pleasure, no matter that it was her first time to even see a man nude, no matter that she had no idea how to breathe around it, no matter that she didn't understand why.

  Finally he forced himself all the way inside of her, his staff curving down the back of her throat, the balls planted firmly on her chin. He exploded then, the monster rod inside her mouth throbbing with pleasure as wave after wave of his seed coated down the back of her throat, strangling her, causing her eyes to water.

  The voice in her mind encouraged her. “Swallow every drop.” She tried, she truly did, to force that hot, thick liquid down into her stomach without gagging.

  Finally, satiated, he pulled himself out of her mouth, slowly, his still hard dick making it difficult. When he finally released her from his clawed hands, she quickly mov
ed to the water pitcher, and began to clean herself.

  Finally she found her voice, strange from swallowing the thick seed. “Why would you do something like that? It's unnatural!”

  He laughed and sank back into her chair, fully nude. He was already going back to his full hardness, watching her bare form clean her mouth. “I am your master. Nothing I do is unnatural.”

  She bit her lip. He was relaxing at that moment, eating her other biscuit while she cleaned herself. She had heard that men could only have sex once in a day, somewhere. Perhaps now he would be content, and would leave her alone?