Chapter 1 - The Herbalist's Fate

There’s a kind of silence in the Silver-Bark Expanse that would drive a city-dweller insane. Not the suffocating absence of sound, but a predator’s hush, the kind you hear right before you become lunch. I crouched in a pocket of shadow, letting the cool moss squish between my toes and the scents of the forest work their way up my nose: wet earth, old blood, and something else.

Rabbit-girl.

She was down in the clearing, less than twenty paces ahead and in full view. The way she moved, you’d think she owned the place. She probably did, in her own little prey-animal way, which made her arrogance funnier than hell. I watched her kneel in the moss, ass up, tail twitching like a little white flag: Come and get me, wolf-boy. Her ears never stopped, radar dishes locked on every wind gust, every insect hum. But she never looked up. Not once.

Her focus was all for the glowing mushrooms she plucked from under a rotten log, the way she sniffed each one before dropping it in her basket. She had a small trowel, more a toy than a tool, but it was enough to pry the little phosphorescent bastards out without breaking them. I watched her fingers move, quick and nimble and dusted with dirt and spores. She didn’t even know she was being stalked.

I shifted position, slow and measured. A dry twig underfoot; I froze. Her ears went up, straight as spears, and she inhaled so sharply her whole back arched, making her tits strain against the front of her dress. She stayed like that, stone still, for three heartbeats. Then she went back to her mushrooms.

I grinned. The thrill never got old. I rolled my shoulders and bared my teeth, not because anyone could see me, but because it felt fucking good.

Above us, somewhere in the latticework of silver branches, I caught the faintest gleam of blue-green eyes. Tillioron. He’d taken to shadowing me on hunts, no doubt hoping to pick up a trick or two, or maybe just to see if I’d finally fuck up and let the prey get away. I flicked him a middle finger. He didn’t blink. Probably hadn’t moved in half an hour.

Let him watch.

The real show was down here.

She was big for a rabbit-girl. Not fat, since no prey animal survives long in these woods if they’re easy pickings, but solid. Muscles in her thighs flexed every time she leaned forward, and she had a pair of tits that were almost an evolutionary oversight. When she squatted to grab a sprig of night-thorn, the dress hitched up to the underside of her ass and left just enough of her soft fur visible to make my cock twitch in anticipation.

I tried not to think about the last time I’d gotten off. It had been… awhile. The forest only produced so many worth hunting, and I wasn’t about to waste a load on some half-starved pixie when this kind of game was on offer. I shifted again, pressing the swelling against my thigh, and bit back a growl. Patience, Hrodgar.

She moved methodically: pull, sniff, pluck, basket. Once she paused to taste a leaf, tongue flicking out over her upper lip. I could almost taste her from here. Her scent was a creamy sweetness, like milk gone just barely sour, with an undercurrent of adrenaline. She’d been spooked recently. Not by me. Something else had been through here before, but she’d outpaced it. Good. The chase would be even better if she had some confidence to burn.

She made a circuit of the clearing, picking her way over knotted roots and slick stones. Each time she bent over, the dress rode up higher. Her tail, a white cotton puff, kept winking at me with every step. I could have rushed her, and hell, I wanted to, but that’s not how the hunt works. Not if you want it to last.

I tracked her with my nose as much as my eyes. She was sweating lightly, not enough to bead but enough to layer the air with her scent. My mouth watered. I resisted the urge to pant.

The forest shifted. A breeze rolled through, stirring the silver bark. Light fractured across the clearing, painting everything in patterns. I shifted with it, letting the new shadows swallow me whole. She didn’t notice. She was humming, actual humming, a little ditty that sounded like it had too many notes and no actual tune. I realized she was probably the only living being in the world who thought herself safe here. Her obliviousness was perfect.

She squatted low, knees wide apart, and levered a massive fungus from the dirt. The movement made the dress split at the thigh, showing a stripe of pale skin and downy fur. I watched her fingers, so delicate, curl around the root and snap it clean. She brought it to her nose, inhaled, then licked the cap. I could see the shiver that went through her. Whether it was the taste or the excitement of a successful harvest, it didn’t matter. She licked her lips and placed the prize gently in her basket, then let out a little sigh.

It was almost a shame to ruin her day.

I stayed crouched, letting the desire build, letting it become uncomfortable. My cock strained against the loincloth, and I was grateful for the thick fur on my belly to keep it in check. I kept my breathing steady, let my heart slow, watched her every move. Her tail had a rhythm now, a nervous little metronome.

She finished her circuit, knelt in the center of the clearing, and arranged her haul with reverence. She counted the mushrooms, made some notes in a battered leather book, and started sorting them by size and color. Her attention to detail was almost supernatural. She was so distracted by her own little world that I could have walked up and pissed on her basket and she wouldn’t have noticed.

I stood, uncoiling my legs, and let my claws slide from their sheathes. She still didn’t look up.

A slow, steady exhale. I bared my teeth, let the saliva pool in my mouth, and took one step closer, then another. My feet made no sound, thanks to years of practice and the padded soles. The wind shifted again, and her ears flicked toward me, but she stayed hunched over her work.

Ten paces out, she was still on her knees, back to me, tail bobbing, arms busy with her collection. The perfect fucking target.

Five paces later, my shadow crossed her foot. She looked up, ears erect, eyes wide, the first whiff of me hitting her all at once. Her nostrils flared. She made a noise that was half gasp and half squeak, and started to scramble, but she slipped on the moss and fell flat on her ass, legs splayed, basket tumbling away.

Her eyes found me instantly. She went still, but her breathing was like a sewing machine, fast and shallow. I could smell the fear on her now, layered over the sweetness, making the air taste sharp and electric.

I grinned. “You dropped your basket,” I said.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her whole body trembled, but her eyes never left mine. She looked like she wanted to say something, but the words got stuck behind her teeth.

I crouched low, slow and predatory, and bared my canines. “You want to run?” I asked. “Go ahead. I’ll give you a head start.”

She didn’t move. Her ears flattened against her scalp.

I laughed, not kindly, and flicked my tail. “Not a runner, huh? That’s all right.” I moved forward another step. She crab-walked backward, pushing with her feet, making little panicked sounds. I let her. I savored every second of it.

Her back hit a root. She clung to it, nails digging in, staring up at me with wild, desperate eyes. I leaned over her, putting my hands on either side of her head, caging her in. My tail whipped behind me, more out of excitement than anything.

“You smell fucking delicious,” I said. “Did you know that?”

She shook her head. “I—I’m just—”

“Yeah, you are,” I said, and licked the side of her face, slow and deliberate.

She shuddered, mouth open in shock. I could have taken her then and there, but the time wasn’t right. Not yet. I wanted her to stew in the anticipation.

From above, I heard another soft noise. Tillioron, no doubt enjoying the show.

I pressed my nose into the hollow of her neck and inhaled deeply. “You ever been caught before?” I asked, my voice low and rough.

She shook her head again. Her pulse fluttered under my tongue, a wild animal’s heartbeat.

“Good,” I said. “You’ll remember it.”

I let her go and stood, taking a step back. She didn’t get up right away. She just stared, frozen, then slowly began to crawl away from me, never turning her back.

“You’d better move faster,” I said. “Next time, I might not let you go so easy.”

She scrambled to her feet, basket forgotten, and bolted into the trees, nearly tripping over her own shadow. I watched her go, tail and ears and all, and felt the ache in my groin flare up.

I waited. I let the tension linger. The real hunt would come later, after she’d had time to think about what had happened, maybe even convince herself she’d gotten away. The best prey were the ones who learned to fear you before they loved you.

Above me, Tillioron dropped from the branches, silent as ever, and landed beside me.

“Nice moves,” he said, voice like a knife sliding between ribs.

I shrugged. “You could use the practice.”

He smiled, sharp and hungry. “Oh, I’m taking notes.”

We watched the direction the rabbit-girl had run, our bodies humming with the shared electricity of the chase. The forest closed around us, alive and aware, waiting for the next act.

I licked my lips and waited for darkness.

---

Darkness didn’t last long in the Expanse, not with the mushrooms and lichens putting on their nightly lightshow, but the real blackout came from the hunger burning behind my eyes. I lay in wait for what felt like hours, nose buried in the wet leaves, every nerve buzzing, cock so hard I could have snapped it on a rock.

The rabbit-girl came back. Of course she did. They always do. Prey doesn’t learn, not in this forest, not when the pull of what you want is stronger than the push of what you fear.

She was jumpier now. I heard her footsteps long before she crested the ridge, the way she tiptoed between the loud leaves and gave every bush a wide berth. I smiled into the dirt. She thought I was gone. She thought she’d survived. She even hummed again, but now it was a nervous little staccato, like she was convincing herself the first time had been a fluke.

She moved faster, hands trembling as she worked. Her basket was half full already, but she wanted the big haul, the cluster of mushrooms under a rotten log near the clearing’s far edge. She hesitated, then dropped to all fours and crawled in after them, ass up, tail vibrating like a tuning fork.

That’s when I snapped.

I launched out of my cover with all the force I could muster, claws out, fangs bared, and made a beeline for the patch of white fluff bouncing in the moonlight. Three strides and I was on her, body slamming into her back, driving her flat into the moss with a meaty thud. She didn’t even have time to scream before my hand was clamped over her mouth, fingers curling around her jaw so tight I could feel her molars through the fur.

She kicked. She bucked. She made a sound, deep in her chest, that was half sob, half snarl. I liked that. I liked that a lot.

I put my knee in the small of her back and yanked her arms behind her, pinning them with one hand while the other stayed glued to her snout. Her basket exploded, mushrooms flying everywhere. She squealed and bit down on my hand, hard, but I just laughed, deep and low in her ear.

“Easy,” I growled. “Don’t waste your breath.”

She thrashed harder. I let her. It only made me want her more.

I pressed my hips forward, making sure she felt the heat of my cock grinding up her ass through the thin cloth of her dress. She shivered. Maybe it was fear. Maybe not. I ground harder, slow and deliberate, letting her feel every inch of me through the fabric. Her tail whipped back and forth, slapping against my crotch, trying to push me off or maybe just trying to feel something solid. I pinned it with my other hand, wrapping the fluff around my fist, and pulled back just enough to force her to arch her hips up. The movement pressed her even tighter against my dick. I felt her body tense, then sag, like she’d realized struggling was just an invitation.

She let out a hot, muffled whine against my palm.

I leaned in, put my teeth right next to her twitching ear, and let my voice drop to a whisper.

“Run all you want, little rabbit… the chase is over.”

Her whole body went rigid. Then she went limp, panting through her nose. I could smell the fear rolling off her, sharp and metallic, but there was something else underneath, a sweetness, a budding heat, the scent of a creature so close to the edge she didn’t know which way to jump.

I loosened my grip on her mouth, just a little. She gasped for air, drool smearing her fur. “P-please,” she whispered, the word almost lost in the dirt. “I—I won’t come back. I’ll leave.”

I snorted, hot breath fogging her ear. “Don’t lie to me. You like it out here.”

She whimpered, and I rolled her onto her side, keeping her arms twisted behind her back. I watched her breasts heave with each breath, watched her eyes roll wild in her head. Her nostrils flared, desperate for more air, and her tail tried to curl in on itself.

I grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and pulled her up, so we were nose-to-nose. She tried to look away, but I forced her chin up with my free hand.

“You ever been caught before?” I asked.

She shook her head, eyes shining with tears and something else.

“First time for everything,” I said, and licked a stripe up the side of her face. She tasted like salt and mushroom spores. I growled with approval.

She tried one last time to break free, twisting and kicking, but I held her fast. My body weight pressed her down into the moss, my legs bracketing her thighs, my cock grinding between us like a promise.

“You gonna be good?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, just made a noise that was almost a sob.

“That’s what I thought,” I said.

For a long moment, I held her there, letting the strength of my body, the heat, the weight, become her entire world. I could feel her pulse hammering against my chest. I could smell her sweat, her fear, her arousal, all mixed together like some intoxicating elixir.

She went still, the fight draining out of her. Her ears drooped, tail limp.

I loosened my grip, just a little. She didn’t move.

“That’s right,” I murmured. “You’re mine now.”

From the trees, I heard the faint click of Tillioron’s tongue. He’d seen the whole thing, the bastard. Good. Let him watch.

I pressed my muzzle to the rabbit-girl’s ear and whispered, “Next time, don’t make it so easy.”

She shivered, but didn’t look away.

I smiled. The hunt was over, but the real fun hadn’t even started.

---

I wanted to see the whites of her eyes as I tore her apart. Not the literal tearing, though that was on the table, but the slow, grinding humiliation of her realizing she’d lost. I dragged her up by the collar, spun her like a ragdoll, and flung her flat on her back. Her legs kicked out, her breath coming in ragged, terrified bursts. I watched her chest rise and fall, the outline of her nipples punching through the thin linen like they were desperate for freedom.

I knelt over her, straddling her hips, my hands gripping both her wrists and pinning them above her head. I used one hand, since mine are big, bigger than most, to hold her there. With the other, I grabbed a fistful of her dress right between her breasts and ripped.

It tore like paper.

Her breasts sprang free, fat and soft and already flushed from the blood racing through her. Her nipples were a screaming pink, so hard they looked painful. She yelped and tried to cross her arms over her chest, but I squeezed her wrists harder, making her whimper.

I leaned in and put my face right in her cleavage, inhaling. The scent was all hers now, musk and sweat and that little tang of arousal she couldn’t hide even if her brain was screaming no. I licked a stripe from her belly button to her collarbone, tasting the salt, and she shuddered, eyes squeezed shut.

“Look at me,” I growled.

She refused.

I let go of her wrists for a second, and she didn’t even move, too shocked to do anything but lie there. I grabbed both tits, mauling them in my hands. I squeezed them together, flicked my tongue over her nipples, pinched and twisted them until she gasped. Then I clamped my teeth around one nipple and bit down, just shy of drawing blood.

She screamed, a high, rabbit-like screech, and tried to writhe away, but I held her fast.

I didn’t stop. I sucked and bit and twisted those pink nipples until they were swollen and shining with my spit. She thrashed and sobbed “no, no, please,” but I just laughed and kept going, mauling the soft flesh, slapping it, watching it jiggle. Her ears flattened against her scalp, then twitched wildly. Her thighs trembled.

Then my hand slid lower. I spread her thighs wide and dragged two thick fingers through her soaked folds. “Already dripping for me, little rabbit slut.” I circled her swollen clit, slow and firm and relentless, then plunged both fingers deep into her tight cunt, curling them, pumping while my thumb kept grinding her clit.

She bucked and wailed, but her hips started rolling against my hand. I felt her walls flutter. Right when she was about to break, I pulled out, slapped her pussy hard, and started again, slower and meaner this time.

I did it again, and again, and again. Each cycle pushed her closer, her pleas turning into broken whimpers. Her tail thrashed against the moss and went limp. Her ears twitched with every slap. I watched her face, shame burning in her eyes, her mouth open, drool on her chin, and I kept the rhythm vicious: circle, thrust, edge, slap. Circle, thrust, edge, slap.

She came hard, screaming and gushing around my fingers, thighs clamping down, body convulsing. I didn’t stop. I kept fingering her through it, forcing every last tremor out of her until she collapsed, panting and shaking, eyes glazed.

I pulled my fingers free and licked them clean.

“Not bad,” I said, grinning down at her. “But we’re not done yet.”

She whimpered, voice barely a whisper. “Please…”

“Please what?”

She looked up at me, shame burning in her face. “Please… don’t stop…”

I laughed, loud and mean, and cupped her jaw in my hand.

“That’s more like it.”

I bent down and kissed her, tongue fucking her mouth with the same rhythm I’d just used on her pussy. She melted into it, sobbing and moaning, hands finally coming up to clutch at my shoulders.

From the edge of the clearing, I heard the unmistakable sound of Tillioron’s voice, soft and smug: “She’s a screamer.”

I broke the kiss, looked over, and gave him a lazy middle finger.

He grinned and faded back into the shadows.

I turned my attention back to the rabbit-girl. She was trembling, her whole body slick with sweat and tears. Her cunt was swollen and red, still dripping. Her chest heaved, and her ears flopped uselessly on either side of her head.

I leaned in, so close our noses touched.

“You’re going to cum again,” I promised. “And you’re going to thank me for it.”

She made a noise that was almost a laugh and almost a sob.

I started in on her again, this time with my mouth, tongue flicking over her clit, then fucking her hole, slow and deep. She lost it almost instantly, coming again, louder this time, her hands clutching my head and pulling me closer.

When she finally stopped, she lay there, completely wrecked, eyes half-lidded, breathing like she’d run a marathon.

I sat back and admired my handiwork. She was broken. She was beautiful.

And she was all mine.

---

There’s a moment, right after you break something, when it’s softer than it ever was. I watched the rabbit-girl tremble, the fight gone from her limbs, her face glazed with tears and sweat and a little leftover snot. She looked up at me with wide, unfocused eyes, her mouth just open enough to show the tips of her teeth.

I knelt between her legs and she spread them for me, no resistance, just a limp willingness that made me harder. My cock was leaking pre down the length, smeared with her scent and the sweat of my own anticipation. I dragged the head up her slit, coating it with her slick, then tapped her clit with it just to watch her spasm.

She squeaked, hips jerking, thighs clamping around me for half a heartbeat before she remembered she wasn’t allowed to close them.

I let her taste the head, just the tip, pressing it in so she had to stretch. I savored her panic when she realized how much bigger I was than my fingers. Then, with a growl that vibrated in my chest, I shoved in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

She screamed, a raw animal sound, but her cunt took it, tight and wet and milking me from the moment I bottomed out. I held there, grinding in heavy circles so she felt every throbbing inch, every twitch, every pulse of blood at the base of my cock. She tried to wriggle away, but I pinned her hips with both hands and kept her skewered.

“Such a wet little prey slut,” I snarled into her ear. “Take it. Take every fucking inch.”

I pulled back slow, savoring the drag of her walls down my shaft, then slammed home so hard her tits jumped and the breath punched out of her in a wet bark. I did it again. And again. Long, punishing strokes that drove her into the moss, then a deep grinding pause where I stayed buried and rocked against her clit, then a merciless animal pounding that made her eyes roll back and her tongue loll over her teeth.

Each cycle broke her a little more. I felt her clench and flutter every time the rhythm shifted, her cunt trying to lock me down, but I never let her cum easy. Right when she tightened, right when her mouth went slack and her thighs started to shake, I’d stop and grind slow, holding her on the edge until she was whining behind her teeth and rolling her hips up to chase me. Then I’d fuck her even harder.

“You feel that, rabbit?” I growled, slamming home. “That’s what prey is for. Holding wolf cock. Milking it. Taking every fucking drop.”

Her ears flattened, then twitched. Her tail thrashed against my thigh and went limp. Her thighs shook and shook and shook.

Tillioron dropped out of the tree and landed at her head, silent as moonlight. He looked down at her, then at me, and smirked. “You’re making a mess,” he said.

“Clean it up,” I shot back.

He grinned, grabbed her by the long ears like a pair of handles, and lined his cock up with her open mouth. She didn’t even protest. Her lips parted automatically, like a well-trained whore, and he slid in slow at first, then deeper, until his balls rested on her cheeks. He started fucking her face in time with my thrusts.

The two of us locked eyes over her body. There was a language there, no words, just heat and hunger and mutual respect. We were predators, she was prey, and that was how the world was supposed to work.

We played her like an instrument. When I drove deep, he drove deep. When I slowed and ground, he slowed and ground, holding her ears tight while she keened around his cock. When I pounded her into the moss, he matched me stroke for stroke down her throat. The clearing filled with the wet slap of flesh, the obscene chorus of slurps and gags, the low animal growls coming out of both of us.

She was sobbing and cumming and convulsing, barely conscious, voice gone, but she never once tried to escape. Every time her cunt clamped down on me I felt Tillioron groan above her and his rhythm catch, and I’d grin at him over her shaking body and slow down just to torture her again.

“Look at her,” Tillioron rasped, holding her head still on his cock. “She was made for this.”

“She was made for us,” I corrected, and slammed home so hard her whole body jolted up the moss.

The knot started to swell, thickening at the base of my cock with every thrust. Each stroke caught a little harder at her entrance now, the bulge dragging across her stretched ring on the way out, forcing it wider on the way back in. She felt it. Her eyes flew open around Tillioron’s cock and she made a sound I’d never heard a prey animal make before, somewhere between a sob and a beg.

“That’s right,” I growled. “Feel it growing. That’s your wolf, little rabbit. That’s what’s about to lock inside you.”

I kept fucking her, slower now, deeper, letting the knot swell against her with every grinding thrust. Tillioron read me without a word and slowed too, holding her ears, sliding in and out of her wrecked mouth in long, deliberate strokes that timed perfectly with mine.

The knot caught at her entrance. She wailed around the cock in her throat. It caught again on the next stroke and her cunt clamped down so hard I almost saw stars. The third time I pulled back, lined up, and drove forward with everything I had.

The knot popped past her ring with a wet, obscene sound and lodged inside her, locking us together. She came instantly, the orgasm tearing through her so hard her whole body bowed off the moss, and I felt her cunt seize around the base of my cock in a long, helpless, milking spasm.

“There it is,” I snarled. “Take my knot, rabbit slut. Milk it. You’re not a herbalist anymore. You’re a hole for wolf cock and you’re going to remember it every time you sit down for the rest of your fucking life.”

Tillioron laughed, low and dark, and started fucking her face again in earnest.

---

I couldn’t pull out if I’d wanted to, and I didn’t want to.

The knot pulsed inside her, thick and locked and alive, and every throb of it forced another shudder through her wrecked body. I ground my hips in slow, heavy circles, unable to thrust, unable to do anything but rock the swollen bulge against the inside of her cunt and feel her walls spasm around it again and again. She cried into Tillioron’s cock. She tried to close her thighs and couldn’t. She tried to squirm forward and only drove me deeper.

Every grind dragged the knot across a new nerve. Every drag forced a new orgasm out of her. She came on the first one and kept coming, the spasms rolling into each other until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. Her cunt was a vise, fluttering and squeezing and milking the base of my cock, and the knot pulsed back against her like a second heartbeat.

Then I let go.

The first pulse of cum hit her so hard she choked. I felt it leave me in a thick, hot rope, felt her womb clamp down around my cock and pull, and I bucked against the lock and growled through my teeth. Another pulse followed, then another, then another, the knot sealing her tight and forcing every drop deeper instead of letting any of it spill. The pressure built between us until her belly went taut against mine.

I ground harder. She wailed.

“Feel that, rabbit?” I rasped into her ear. “That’s all going inside you. Every fucking drop. Nowhere for it to go. You’re going to walk out of here with a wolf’s load sloshing in your gut.”

She sobbed around Tillioron’s cock and came again. I felt it. The knot caught the wave of it and threw it back into her, and she convulsed between us like a fish on a hook.

Tillioron’s face went tight. He grabbed her ears, jammed himself down her throat, and held her there while he emptied. I watched her cheeks bulge, watched cum spill out around the seal of her lips, watched it bubble at her nose when she tried to breathe. He pulled out at the last second and painted the rest across her face in long white stripes, then slapped her cheek with his cock just to watch her flinch.

She gasped, gulped, choked, gulped again. Her tongue worked against nothing. Her eyes rolled back.

I kept grinding. The knot wasn’t going anywhere and neither was I.

“Again,” I growled, and rocked the swollen base of my cock against her clit.

She came again. Of course she did. She didn’t have a choice anymore. Her body had figured out what it was for and her brain was just along for the ride. I watched her ears flatten and twitch and flatten again, the whole rhythm of her surrender written in the little white triangles flopping against the moss.

Tillioron sprawled beside us, hands behind his head, grinning up at the silver branches. “Fuck,” he sighed. “Best hunt all season.”

“She’s not done,” I said.

“Course she’s not.”

I ground deeper. Her belly was visibly swollen now, rounded against the press of my own, full of me and still filling. Every pulse of the knot pumped another small, hot pulse of cum into her, and there was nowhere for any of it to go. She felt it. Her hand crept down between us, shaking, and pressed flat against the curve of her own stomach as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was finding there.

I caught her wrist and held it there. “Yeah,” I said. “Feel it. That’s yours now. That’s what you came back for.”

She whimpered. Her fingers spread on her own belly and stayed.

We stayed locked like that for a long time. The forest closed in around us, alive and aware and quiet. The mushrooms pulsed their slow blue-green light. Somewhere overhead a night-bird called once and didn’t call again. I rocked against her, slow and possessive, milking the last of myself into her, and she trembled through one more small, exhausted orgasm and went still beneath me.

The knot started to shrink. I felt it before she did, the thick lock loosening a degree at a time, the pressure easing by slow fractions. I didn’t pull out. I let it ride, let the seal hold, let her keep every drop until I was good and ready.

When I finally slid free, the flood that came with me was obscene. It poured out of her in a thick white rush and pooled on the moss between her thighs, and still her belly stayed round.

She made a small sound that wasn’t a word.

I licked a stripe up the side of her face, slow and claiming. “You’re mine now,” I said.

She didn’t argue. She turned her face into my palm and closed her eyes.

Tillioron rolled to his feet and stretched, vertebrae popping one by one. “She’ll bring friends next time,” he said. “They always do.”

“Let them come.” I bared my canines at the dark between the trees. “We’ll be ready.”

He vanished into the silver branches without a sound.

I gathered the rabbit-girl against my chest, wet and ruined and warm, and listened to her breathing slow. Her tail twitched once against my thigh. Her hand was still on her belly.

I watched the stars wheel through the latticework above and felt the hunger start to build again, low and patient and certain.

It always did.