Wolf's lips are soft.

That's the first thought that pops into my head, forcing its way through the astonishment as Wolf's mouth mold against mine, the soft exhale of his breath tasting like herbs and mint.

The softness of his lips pose an even greater surprise to me than the kiss. Wolf doesn't seem like the type to have such soft, pliable lips, so much so that I'm tempted to bite them just to feel them bounce. He also doesn't seem like the type to skim his hands gently at the back of my neck and press closer, as though craving more of my taste. And he certainly doesn't seem like the type to have his breath audibly hitch in his throat after he does.

Butt then again, none of this is expected. All this is new, stunning, ground.

And Wolf tastes like he smells, of earth and wildness and rain.

My heart, after it stopped from the sheer shock, begins quickening into an erratic pound. My eyes are still wide open, blinking, because I'm not sure what to do next. His eyes are shut, his lashes resting against his cheek. Part of my brain hasn't accepted what's happening yet and I'm caught between pulling away and pressing closer.

And perhaps Wolf is feeling the same way because after that last move, he doesn't do anything else, and doesn't try to deepen the kiss. On the occasions that Caster had kissed me, he would usually start melding his lips with mine, licking the seam, and then when I opened my mouth, our tongues would tangle lustfully. I would always get inflamed and overeager and try to do more, which Caster always hated. He said that it felt like I was trying to devour him, that I felt so desperate and needy like I was one of the lustful whores that some had already accused me of being.

Caster preferred it when I sat still and let him take control. He said that made him feel better to be in control, and made him feel more like a man. Is Wolf the same way? It would make sense, he oozes masculinity perhaps even more than Caster. So perhaps he wants me to stay even stiller and simply pretend like I'm a lady, not an animal sent to devour him?

So why isn't he moving?

A pounding of my heart is now echoed low in my belly and a heat is spreading even lower. I shift and feel a pang zip through me, recognizing instantly what this feeling is, even though I haven't felt it in eons.

It's desire.

I'm attracted to Wolf and have been since the first rebirth, no matter how much I tried to deny it.

The first time I saw him without a tunic on, I hid in the corner and watched for an inordinate number of seconds, with a line of drool coming out of my mouth. He turned and found me and I ran off, with his puzzled look embedded in my brain.

I never thought that would lead us here though. I never thought Wolf would kiss me.

Or perhaps this is just a dream.

And if it is a dream, then it should be no problem for me to lay my hands on his shoulders and shift closer, encouraging him to do more and stoke the flames higher.

With my heart pounding out of my chest, even though I know how wrong this is, I put my hand on his rough, stubbled cheek and trace my tongue over the seam of his lips.

But he doesn't move. On the contrary, he stills.

And then after a second of panicked thought, Wolf growls and repeats what I did, with his tongue on the seam of my lips. The movement is slightly clumsy, not nearly as smooth as mine and there's almost a question in them of whether he's allowed to do it.

And then a thought occurs to me.

Perhaps Wolf is so motionless and hesitant because he doesn't know what to do.

Is this the first time he’s ever kissed someone before?

It seems incredulous to think about, especially considering how much time he spends in the Hovel, but then I decide to test that theory. I pull back slightly, allowing a breath between our lips, and nip his bottom lip. Wolf responds with another rough sound, drawing me closer again to fuse our lips together. And then he pulls back and nips mine.

Once again, following my lead.

He really doesn't know how to kiss.

The thought does two things simultaneously. It relaxes me and has an unusual and very worrying amount of pleasure bursting through me. I can't define exactly why it makes me happy that I'm Wolf's first kiss, but it's probably for an unhealthy reason, some pathological combination of possessiveness and pure unadulterated madness.

But I feel like I've just been given an unexpected treasure that I never thought about before.

I don't have to worry that I'll do too much and make a mistake. That he'll judge me by someone else's standard.

There are no rules here. We're simply making it as we go along.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

And though something tells me it's wrong to feel this way, and that I'm possibly objectifying Wolf, the guilt isn't enough to hold me back anymore.

So I stop holding back entirely. I put both hands on his cheeks and kissed him the way I truly want to. Deeply and roughly and passionately

Wolf goes dangerously still once again when I deepen our kiss, his lips plaint as I nip them and move my tongue between them.

And then his hands travel to grip my waist.

They grip hard.

He groans when I suck his tongue into my mouth, and my fingers shift to the back of his head, tangling with the dark curls pressing him closer.

Suddenly I'm flying.

In a spinning move, Wolf picked me up and swings around to sit on the chair, arranging me on his lap. He kisses me back with a ferocity that surprises me, hands thrusting through my hair, squeezing so hard it stings. His mouth no longer gives me any space to breathe. He seems to want to…well..devour me like a beast.

But his ferocity doesn't scare me.

It only enflames me.

Savage thoughts pump through me as we move into each other, kissing like crazed animals. Mad, possessive images fly through my mind and something speaks in a tone of deep satisfaction.

It's about time.

“Mine.” The growl leaves my mouth in a voice that I don't recognize, but Wolf stops it with his lips. We are barely catching breaths at this point, with Wolf not backing away for even a second, as though breathing doesn't matter to me. Every time I pull away, he closes the gap, before I can so much as gasp.

And then I shift in his lap, and feel something large and hard nudging my thigh.

And then everything comes crashing down.

Suddenly I'm not in Wolf’s cottage in Wolf’s lap.

I'm with a stranger, high on something, pretending to laugh at his jokes as his hands climb on my legs.

I scream suddenly stuck in the nightmare. I try to run and hear a crashing sound.

Pain splits through my hip and that's when I realize that I pushed off Wolf’s lap and landed on the floor.

Wolf frowns his eyes still dark, his face flushed. He reaches for me again, but even though my mind is back, my body is still in the nightmare. It trembles in fear and I shuffle back, my ankle striking the edge of the table as I try to get as far away from Wolf as possible.

Except it's not Wolf I'm trying to escape. It's me.

It's who I was in the past, who I let myself become.

I hate the way I'm reacting. I'm cowering before him and I hate to cower.

Especially when I see Wolf's expression. It shifts from confusion to regret back to confusion. His hands are extended out but they hesitate as if he wants to help but he's not sure how to.

But I don't want him reaching for me again. I don't know how my body will react if he does so I whisper, "Please."

Wolf's face contorts and then his expression dies. He nods, rises, and leaves the cottage.

----------------------------------------

Wolf does not come back to the cottage by dinner time.

I thought he would, at least to put me through the training once more, but he doesn't. So I put myself through the torture on my own, running up and down the hill, pushing against the ground, doing it until I feel so exhausted I flop over on the grass.

And that still didn’t heal my guilt or my humiliation.

After Wolf left, it took me a few minutes to calm down and realize what I'd done. It was just a kiss and I reacted like he assaulted me, likely confusing Wolf in the process since through most of the embrace, I was the aggressor.

I wanted to go out and find him, to explain to him why I did it but I couldn't. Not only did I not know where he was, but I didn't know what to tell him when I found him. I couldn't tell him about my past, and even if I could, it was something I would rather not rehash. And if I tell him anything else, he would likely be able to tell me I'm lying.

So I simply stayed away and told myself this was for the best. It's good that the kiss ended as disastrously as it did.

I shouldn’t be with Wolf anyway. It was stupid of me to let myself be weak enough to forget that.

I just want to tell him though that my reaction isn't his fault. It's mine.

As I close my eyes, face turned to the sinking sun, I finally think back to what Wolf said before he kissed me.

Not for the first time, I wonder if Wolf transmigrated too if he's the same as me. But that theory does not make much sense. He's not acting like he knows the future. If he did, he wouldn't be so lax about things. And he would at least have called me out on my lies, wouldn't he? Not to mention, he would already know where to find his mother.

And besides if Wolf is from the future, he would never kiss me. The Wolf of the future is in love with Savannah.

And it'll be the same in this timeline too. It would likely have occurred already, had I not interrupted their bond.

But, I will leave him soon, and return things back to how it once was.

Wolf and Savannah are meant for each other. Both beautiful and brave. Both are destined to do great things in this universe.

While I'm destined to die in increasingly horrific ways.

I need Wolf's help to save myself and my future friends. And I can't get distracted by doing needless things like kissing him and dreaming of him. I need all my focus on the task at hand.

When the sky gets dark, I sigh and pick myself off the floor. That was too much thinking for today. Time to eat and rest.

Wolf’s soup has gone cold by the time I get back inside, and it takes me a second to work the contraption to start the fire.

I think of what to make to accompany the soup and recall that Wolf's mother's flour is still underneath the stove. Perhaps I can make bread. Or....

I glance at the sack of apples in the corner and tug it closer, taking an apple out.

I bite into it and wince.

Still too sweet, but now also slightly fermented, as it has been sitting there for days.

"Fermented apples are the best for wine tarts," I remember Wolf’s mother telling me from her cell. "My son used to love those."

Suddenly I have an idea.

I hesitate to reach for the pot of flour, feeling it too sacred to touch. But surely it should be fine if I'm making a meal for Wolf, should it not?

I'm always guilty of eating his food, and taking from him. I should at least make him something in return.

So I send a quick prayer of permission to Wolf's mother, wherever she is, and take the flour pot, sifting out about two cups into a separate empty pot. Then I chop up the apples, dicing them into tiny pieces so that their juices ooze out.

As I work to mix the flour and the apples together, my mind once again travels back to Wolf, wondering where he is, and how he's feeling.

Is he even going to come back tonight?

Where does he go anyway?

Who is he with?

The image of Savannah pops into my mind, and I feel guilty for the amount of jealousy that courses through me.

Serves you right for coveting something that's not yours.

Tortured thoughts aside, the tarts are relatively fast and easy to make. An hour later, I hum a thoughtless tune, as I use Wolf's apron to take out the tray of tarts laying it on the counter and fanning it to cool. I stand there for minutes, watching the steam rise from the top in slow smoky tendrils.

Then, I turn around to grab a plate...

And scream.