Chapter 5 - The Rival Hunter

Every forest had its little dramas. Screaming hares torn apart by foxes, crows dive-bombing the hawk that was foolish enough to nap on their branch, the endless territorial pissing contests of deer and boars. But the Silver-Bark Expanse had a whole different theater. Here, the trees rewrote the script at a whim, and the real predators were just as likely to fuck you as they were to eat you.

I was stretched out on a wet slab of mossy branch, high up in one of the Expanse’s old bones, a silvered behemoth so ancient it had a lightning scar and two families of glimmer-moths nested in its hollows. The pre-dawn blue painted everything ghostly. You could taste the magic in the air, sharp as ozone and sweet as nectar, especially on a morning like this, still, perfect, the stage perfectly set for the opening act.

Enter the hunter.

She slipped into view from the edge of the overgrown trail. Smallish, coiled, deliberate. Armor tight and brown, not shiny, not fancy, but well-oiled and fitted for silence. The leather looked freshly cut, not from the same beast as last week’s interloper but close enough to make me wonder what little herd of monsters she’d emptied out to get here. Her steps barely disturbed the bluegrass underfoot, but I saw every flex of muscle through the gaps in her gear. Fast-twitch, probably a sprinter. Definitely not a local. She looked up once, eyes flicking across the branches, and I stifled a bark of laughter. Not bad, little one, not bad at all.

Crossbow slung over her back, tools lined up on her belt like teeth in a jawbone: three different blades, a coil of wire, some vials in padded loops, poisons, I’d bet, plus a battered canteen. She had a hunter’s ponytail, chopped short at the nape, dark as crow’s wing and streaked with something blonder. She wore a mouth set to ‘don’t fuck with me,’ but that smile at the edge of her lips gave her away. Underneath, she wanted to hunt something that might hunt her back.

The forest liked her. Or maybe it just liked what I’d do to her.

She crouched by a bush, ran fingers across the broken stems. A little tuft of fur caught on a thorn, dirty beige and streaked with dried blood. She rolled it between thumb and forefinger, brought it to her nose, and I saw her nostrils flare, just a little. The trail was only a few hours old, and she knew it. She grinned, full teeth this time, then reached for the tracks in the mud.

Good gods, she could read a spoor like scripture. Every time she hesitated, it was the hesitation of precision. Even when the path doubled back on itself or got tangled up in the wormy, root-choked humps of the Expanse, she never lost direction for more than a heartbeat. She moved with that rare confidence: not arrogance, but the certainty of someone who’d outlived all the doubters.

I shifted, letting my tail coil around the branch for balance. A few flecks of loose bark tumbled down, but the hunter never looked up. She was all in, hunting the idea of the kill more than the kill itself. I knew that drive intimately. It was the same urge that had led me into the Expanse and let the forest fuck me up until I was more wolf than man.

She found the next sign, paw prints, pressed deep into a patch of night-wet clay. Big as her outstretched hand, claws like sickles. The kind of track that, in these parts, meant you either started running or got very, very quiet.

Instead, she stood, stretched, and did a slow spin to take in the trees. For a second, her eyes swept right past me, then bounced back, almost like she’d felt my gaze. I held perfectly still, the way only a predator can. She watched the branches, the knot of moonflowers above me, the swarm of whisper-moths still dormant in their silk, and then, satisfied, she started moving again.

Now the fun started.

I ghosted along above her, keeping two bodies’ worth of space between us. The Expanse had a hundred paths, and every one of them could be rerouted in a night. When you’d lived here as long as I had, you learned to see the seams, where the trees left a handhold, where the ground went soft, which hollows ran all the way to the ruins beneath. I didn’t even have to push; I just let the forest nudge her gently, subtly, like a hand on the small of her back. Paths opened where I wanted them. Tracks she thought were beast left and right, I snipped them with a flick of my claws, then made new ones. Sometimes I broke a branch on purpose, just to let her think she’d found something the last hunter had missed.

She followed every sign, never suspecting she was the one being tracked.

After an hour, the sun burned through the haze, shot streaks of gold down into the underbrush, and made the bioluminescent fungi retreat into their caps. The hunter paused at a clearing where the dew steamed off the moss in curls. She unslung the crossbow, checked the tension, then squatted down with her back to a stone outcrop and yanked a piece of dried meat from her pouch.

I watched her eat. She didn’t take her eyes off the woods for a second, barely moved her jaw as she chewed. She drank from the canteen, then dabbed her lips with a finger and flicked away the droplet. The nerves were starting to hit. She knew she was getting close.

I let myself hang upside-down from a branch just above the clearing. The blood rushed to my skull, made the world pulse and shimmer. I could almost taste the hunter’s anxiety, salty and sharp, but underneath was something more. She was excited. She wanted the legend.

Legends were exactly what the Expanse produced best.

She took her time, patient as an adder, then started off again. This time, I let the sounds of the forest close in around her: birdcalls that rose and fell in weird, irregular intervals; branches that creaked but never broke; the sudden silence that meant you’d stepped into the wrong part of the food chain.

She felt it, too. The way her steps lost their bounce, the way her left hand started hovering closer to her hip knife. She moved more slowly, but she didn’t retreat. I respected that. I almost wanted to give her a head start.

Instead, I dropped to the forest floor a hundred paces behind her and let my feet sink into the loam. The ground was still cold from the night, but the air above was already humid, sticky with the anticipation of a hunt about to break open. I bared my teeth and stretched, rolling the knots out of my back, then padded forward.

She caught the next sign, claw marks on a sapling, not fresh, but not old enough to be safe. She followed, step by step, until she got to a place where the tracks simply vanished. No sign, no blood, no fur, just empty earth.

I watched from behind a tangle of fallen branches as she knelt and swept the area with her hand, confused. She muttered something under her breath, probably a curse or a prayer. She started to circle, widening her search pattern, not realizing I’d doubled back and was now watching from the other side.

I let out a low growl, quiet as a memory. Her head snapped up, eyes wide. For the first time, she hesitated.

I could have taken her then. But where was the fun in that?

Instead, I melted back into the trees, circling her, letting the forest close up behind me. I heard her mutter again, heard the shift in her breathing as the first trickle of doubt slid down her spine. She still didn’t run.

Maybe she’d last the morning after all.

The sun climbed higher, but here under the silver canopy it barely mattered. Patches of blue light pooled on the forest floor, mixing with the ghost-glow of the fungi. I let myself breathe in the hunter’s scent, followed her as she carved her way through the brush, always two steps behind but always visible, if only for a blink.

Once, she looked up and saw my tail flick through a gap in the branches. Her pulse spiked so hard I almost laughed. Instead, I left her another tuft of fur, this time tangled in a bloodberry thicket, and let her find it.

The forest obeyed me, and the chase was on.

She picked up the pace, following the scent of violence. She never looked back, never second-guessed, even when the path started to twist and fold around itself, like the Expanse wanted to keep her forever.

Maybe it did.

I moved ahead, silent as shadow, waiting for her to step into the next trap. It was going to be beautiful. It always was.

---

The best part was the moment the hunter realized she wasn’t the only one hunting.

It always started subtle. The frown that didn’t quite match the set of the eyes, the way her head moved half a heartbeat faster than her body. She’d started off with that unwavering focus, every sense tuned for the kill, but now I could see the cracks. When the breeze carried my scent down to her level, she flinched. Not much, just a twitch in the neck, a quick clench in the jaw. But I saw it.

She ducked under a fallen log, boots squelching in the mud. The ground was layered in slick mats of moss and little fungi bulbs that burst if you stepped wrong, shooting up blue-green clouds that stuck to your skin. The spores probably tickled her nose, but she kept moving, hands low, head on a swivel.

I let my shadow cross her path just once, a blink of movement in the periphery. She froze mid-stride, ears and nostrils straining, then whipped her head around with all the bravado of a wolf facing down a pack. I grinned. Cute.

She lost the trail twice in the next mile. The first time, I wove the beast’s tracks around a circle, left a drag mark that ended in nothing. She spent fifteen minutes pacing the circumference, fingers clawing through dirt and leaves, muttering curses that drifted up to my perch. “Fucking hell, this makes no sense,” she hissed. “No beast doubles back like this.”

I made sure she heard a branch snap, way off to her right. She spun, cocked the crossbow, but I was already gone, paws silent on the wet bark.

The second time, I led her straight to a standing pool, the surface crusted in silver slime. The tracks circled the pool, but I left no sign of departure. She walked three times around, scanning the trees, then crouched low and tested the water with a stick. The mud held, and she inched forward, all her weight balanced on the balls of her feet. For a moment I thought she’d try to cross, but her animal brain screamed danger, and she retreated to drier ground, swearing under her breath.

Sweat beaded on her brow now, despite the chill in the shade. Her movements lost their silkiness, each step a little less certain, every glance over her shoulder a little wilder.

I dropped in closer, pacing her at ten paces, letting the wind bring her scent to me: fear, spiced with adrenaline and something like disappointment. The good ones never wanted to be prey.

From the next rise, I watched her shoulders tense. She’d spotted something, probably the reflection of my eyes, or the shadow of my tail across a sunbeam. She started to move faster, trusting her speed to save her.

It wouldn’t.

She crashed through a tangle of brambles, crossbow pointed behind her, expecting me to give chase. I let the thorns rip little gashes in her leggings, watched the blood well and run in delicate beads down her calf. A lesser hunter would have yelped. She didn’t even slow, just limped once and kept going.

But the Expanse was hungry, and it didn’t let outsiders leave so easily.

The trees grew closer here, trunks twisted tight as lovers, canopy locked so tight it was a wonder the light got in at all. The moss glowed pale green, lighting up every footprint she left like a path of lanterns. She tried to double back, but the forest wouldn’t have it, the roots reached up, tripped her, made her tumble and roll, then spat her out in the same direction she’d tried to escape.

She got up cursing, face streaked with mud and a tear in her right sleeve. The arm beneath was tattooed with jagged lines, old wounds or some tribal design. She flexed her fingers, checked the crossbow, then kept moving. But now the head was down, not up; now every branch overhead looked like a noose.

I let out a single bark, sharp, loud, impossible to place. She whirled, scanned the shadows, then started to run. This time, she barely kept her footing, the boots slick with moss and the air thick with blue pollen. She moved like she was being chased, but she hadn’t even seen me yet.

I could have ended it here. But she hadn’t earned it.

So I kept her running, zig-zagging through switchbacks and false trails. Each time she thought she’d lost me, I let the wind carry my howl just a little closer. Sometimes I crashed through the brush behind her, heavy and menacing, then vanished as soon as she spun. Other times, I ran ahead and left claw marks on the trees, bloodying the trunks just enough to make her shiver.

Once, I got so close I could smell her hair, sweat, oil, and the faintest trace of the honeysuckle she’d slept under last night. She’d stopped at a stream to gulp water, gasping and pale, the canteen rattling in her hands. I could have snapped her neck, easy as breaking a twig. Instead, I leaned in and exhaled, just hard enough to lift the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

She bolted, dropped the canteen, and left it behind.

The next mile was a study in unraveling. Her steps got clumsy, her breathing ragged. Every sound was suspect: the flutter of pixie-wings in a rotten stump, the drip of condensation from the branches, the low hum of some unseen swarm pulsing in the leaf litter. She stopped to check her bearings, but every tree looked the same. The compass on her belt spun in useless circles.

At one point, she doubled over and screamed, not in pain, but pure frustration, all her control broken in a single, animal noise. She pounded her fist into the dirt, teeth bared.

That’s when I knew she was mine.

I left her a mercy, an old game trail, wide and easy, the sort of path a half-starved beast would use to retreat to its den. She spotted it and, after a shaky minute, started following. The sunlight returned, dappling her face in gold and green, but she never saw it. Her eyes were all shadow, all edge.

When the trail ended at a wall of bone-white stone, she stopped. The moss here glowed so bright it hurt the eyes. She slumped against the rock, gasping, crossbow limp in her lap.

I circled the clearing, keeping just out of sight. She could feel me. I saw it in the way her skin prickled, the way she pressed herself tight against the stone like it might swallow her up.

I let her rest. The last thing I wanted was a broken toy. Besides, I liked watching them struggle.

Eventually, she looked up. And for a second, our eyes met through a gap in the trees. She saw the gold in mine, the slit pupils, the hunger. She didn’t scream. She didn’t run.

She just grinned. Bloody, battered, all her defenses gone.

“Come on, then,” she said, loud enough for the whole forest to hear.

So I did.

---

She bolted upright from her sprawl against the rock, every muscle in her body tensed and ready to snap. I felt it as I stalked the perimeter, barely keeping my own excitement from spilling over. The moon was up now, a sickle of white hanging low behind the silver-bark canopy, so the clearing shimmered with ghost-light. The moss glowed; the old ruins caught the shine and bounced it back in cold splinters. The air buzzed with anticipation.

She moved like a caged animal, knees bent, crossbow leveled at my last position. I let her catch another glimpse of me, just a twitch of ear, the rustle of my tail, then dropped back into the dark. She sighted down the crossbow and exhaled, so steady it would’ve fooled anyone but me.

She circled the clearing’s edge, eyes never straying from the half-collapsed archway that I’d let her believe was my lair. I’d scented it with a patch of old blood, dragged a few hunks of flesh from my last kill to make it reek of fresh carnage. She bought the bait, boots crunching on the loose gravel, crossbow tracking every hint of movement.

I got close, so close I could count the scars on her neck, and she never saw me.

She crept to the archway, ducked behind a chunk of fallen column, and waited. Her breath hissed in and out, but the hands on the crossbow never wavered. She wanted the shot clean, wanted the trophy. I almost gave it to her.

Instead, I let her see a silhouette, a hulking beast-shape slinking through the gap in the wall. She tensed, raised the bow, and drew the trigger just as I pounced from the shadows.

The quarrel zipped by my ear, close enough to take a tuft of fur, then clattered harmlessly into the weeds. She barely had time to register the miss before I slammed into her, all claws and teeth and momentum. She went down hard, the wind whooshing out of her lungs.

The crossbow skittered across the ground. She made a grab for her belt knife, but I pinned her wrist to the dirt, pressing down just hard enough to remind her who owned the leverage.

She kicked at my midsection, good aim, not enough force. I straddled her hips, leaned down, and showed my teeth. She glared up at me, mud smeared on her cheek, hair wild as the forest itself.

“You hunt in my territory, little hunter,” I growled, my voice low and close enough to her face to fog the air between us. “But you were never the hunter here.”

She spat at me. “Go fuck yourself, wolf.”

I laughed, not even pretending to be insulted. I let her left arm up, just to see what she’d do. She swung at my jaw with a closed fist, solid punch, but I caught it mid-air, twisted it behind her back, and pressed her down again. My tail lashed, excitement making the fur on my neck stand up.

She gritted her teeth, then wrenched her right arm hard enough to scrape the skin raw. The leather armor held, but not for long; I felt the strain in the stitching. With her cheek mashed into the moss, she snarled, “You think you’re special? I’ve killed monsters twice your size.”

“Size isn’t everything,” I said, and ran a claw-tip down the length of her spine. Not deep, not bloody, just enough to make her shiver.

She bucked, tried to roll me, but I was heavier and twice as stubborn. She’d stopped pretending it was a game now; she was fighting for her life, or maybe just for the pride of not being bested in front of the whole damned Expanse.

I leaned down, let my canines graze her ear. “You’re good,” I whispered. “But I’m better.”

She twisted her hips, almost threw me off, but I dug in, claws scraping the stone. She reached for the knife again, clever girl, but I let her get just close enough to taste hope before I snapped the blade from her grip and tossed it into the weeds.

Her breath came in hard, angry bursts. She went still, then suddenly headbutted me in the chin. I saw stars for a second, then barked out a laugh and smacked her face-down into the moss, pinning both wrists above her head in one clawed hand.

She panted, trembling with exhaustion or rage or both. “Just kill me and get it over with, mutt.”

“Kill you?” I ran my tongue over my teeth, savoring the moment. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The moonlight washed over her, painting her skin in liquid silver where the armor had ripped away. Her wrists were small in my grip, but strong. Every inch of her strained to get free. The eyes that glared up at me were furious, but there was a flicker of something else behind them, something wild and honest.

I pressed down, letting my weight remind her how hopeless it was. The forest was silent now, every leaf and insect pausing to watch the spectacle. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

“You’ve got one option left,” I said, voice just above a growl. “Give in. Or I’ll drag this out until you beg for it.”

She didn’t say a word, but the shudder that ran through her body said everything. She bucked one last time, then lay still, jaw clenched, refusing to look away.

Gods, I loved a fighter.

I loosened my grip, but only enough to make her think she had a chance. She tested it, immediately, of course, but I yanked her up by the wrists and twisted her onto her back, pinning her again. The move tore the last shreds of leather from her chest, exposing skin slicked with sweat and streaked in dirt.

She gasped, the first real sound of fear or pleasure she’d made, and I grinned. She tried to knee me in the balls, but I was already braced for it.

“Still got a little fight,” I murmured, dragging my nose down the column of her throat, inhaling the pulse that thudded just below the surface. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to break too soon.”

Her lips curled in a snarl. “You’ll regret this.”

“I doubt it,” I said, then bit her collarbone hard enough to leave a mark.

She arched her back, whether to escape or to press closer, I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. I let her struggle, let her test every angle of resistance, until her whole body trembled and she finally stilled.

“Why?” she whispered, voice so raw it almost sounded like a plea.

I shifted my weight, settling my hips between her thighs. She felt it, there was no hiding my excitement now. “Because you came looking for a monster,” I said, “and you found me.”

She stared up at me, eyes huge in the moonlight, and for a second I saw the shadow of a grin twitch at the edge of her mouth.

“Then show me,” she whispered.

I did.

---

She didn’t give up easy. I liked that.

Pinned to the moss, Kira thrashed beneath me, teeth bared and spitting threats that would’ve made a softer man wilt. “I’ve tracked beasts across three kingdoms,” she snarled, twisting her hips for leverage. “I’m not afraid of an overgrown dog.”

“Then you haven’t met the right dog,” I rumbled back, pressing her wrists harder into the dirt. My claws flexed, dimpling her skin without drawing blood, yet. The heat of her body radiated up through the thin rags left of her tunic. Every inch of her screamed defiance, but I smelled the truth rolling off her in waves: not fear, not quite, but something hot and hungry and desperate to stay unspoken.

I leaned down, close enough for her to feel my breath on her cheek. “You’re shaking,” I whispered.

She jerked her head away, but her pulse thudded so loud I could taste it. “Get off me,” she spat. “Or finish it, coward.”

The last word rolled off her tongue and hung there, tempting. I grinned, showing off a mouthful of teeth. “You want me to finish you, little hunter?”

“I want you to die screaming,” she hissed, but her hips lifted just a fraction, pressing herself up against the fur lining my groin.

I let her stew in the tension a moment, the forest around us gone silent but for the wet rustle of moss and the faint chime of bioluminescent insects weaving lazy circles overhead. The Expanse loved a show. Even the moonlight grew sharper, painting her body in blue and silver, making her skin look carved from river ice.

Her wrists were rope-tight under my grip, but she still fought, trying to wrench free. I eased up, not enough for escape, just enough to make her think about it. She lunged, tried to headbutt my chin, but I caught her by the throat instead, squeezing just until her breath caught.

Her lips curled in a snarl. “You gonna choke me out, wolfman? Or do you need both hands to make it fair?”

“Fair’s for prey,” I said, and let my claws slip under the edge of her leather armor. It parted like wet leaves, the bindings fraying with a single twist of my wrist.

The cold hit her chest, and her nipples peaked instantly, tight, stubborn little things, the color of raw rosewood. I traced a claw around one, just to watch her jaw clench, then leaned in and caught the other in my teeth, gentle at first, then biting down until she made a sound halfway between rage and surrender.

She writhed, trying to buck me off, but all she did was grind herself against my thigh. The wetness there wasn’t sweat, and we both knew it.

“Let’s see what’s got you so worked up,” I growled, then shredded the rest of her armor with a single swipe. The scraps fell away, leaving her bare except for a belt and the thigh-high boots, both caked with mud and bramble scratches. She looked up at me, hair matted to her face, eyes bright with fury and something darker.

She spat in my face. “Fuck you.”

I licked it off, slow and deliberate. “Not yet.”

I let go of her wrists, just to watch her scramble for the belt knife I’d already taken. She grabbed at empty air, then realized her mistake too late. I caught both her hands and pinned them above her head with one arm. My other hand slid down her ribcage, tracing the curve of her waist, then lower, cupping her mound through the heat-slick flesh.

She gasped, tried to twist away, but my fingers found her slit, already slick and swollen. I pressed inside, slow at first, then deeper, crooking my claws just enough to make her arch. She bit back a moan, but I heard it anyway.

I watched her face for every tiny betrayal, the way her eyelids fluttered, the way her lips parted just before she remembered to curse me again. Her legs clamped around my waist, then tried to kick, but I was anchored solid as a tree.

“Scared?” I taunted.

She glared at me. “Of you? I’ve fucked scarier.”

I laughed, low and wolfish. “Then you’ll appreciate the effort.”

I leaned down, tongue tracing the hollow of her throat, tasting sweat and fear and that special tang of defiance. My hand worked between her legs, two fingers plunging in and out, slow enough to drive her mad. Every time she tried to break the rhythm, I squeezed her wrists a little tighter, forcing her to accept it.

The bioluminescent plants around us pulsed brighter, casting shifting shadows across her body. The leaves overhead rustled, almost like applause. The moss soaked up her sweat and my saliva, muffling every sound except the wet, repetitive noises from her cunt and the ragged way she tried to keep her composure.

I took my time, working her until her hips started to roll on their own, until her thighs shuddered and her eyes glazed over with the first hints of surrender. Only then did I slow, pulling my hand free and holding it up so she could see the sheen.

“Like what you taste?” she spat, but her voice was hoarse now, her bravado crumbling at the edges.

“I like what you are,” I said, and licked my fingers clean.

She shivered. It wasn’t from the cold.

I shifted my grip, pinning her by the throat instead of the wrists, and spread her legs wide. My cock pressed hard against her entrance, hot and throbbing, the fur slicked with her juices. I didn’t force it yet, just dragged the blunt head up the length of her slit, slow and deliberate, catching on her clit on every pass until her thighs jumped each time. I let her feel the size of me, the shape, the weight, the inevitability. The thick base was already starting to swell, the knot rising at the root of my cock, and her eyes flicked down to it once and went very wide.

She bucked up, trying to impale herself, but I kept her just out of reach. “Beg,” I said, voice a snarl. “Or you can finish yourself and walk out of here with nothing.”

She gritted her teeth. “You first.”

I squeezed her throat until her eyelids fluttered, then let go, letting her suck in air. “Last chance,” I said.

She stared up at me, face streaked in dirt and moonlight, and spat in my face again. “Do your worst, wolfman.”

I did.

I drove into her in a single, brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She screamed, not in pain, but in shock at the stretch, the fullness. Her legs locked around my waist, claws digging furrows into my back.

I fucked her slow at first, making her feel every inch, every pulse. Pull back until just the head stretched her open, then drive in until my balls slapped wet against her ass. Pull back, drive in. Pull back, drive in. The moss squelched under us, soaking up the sweat and the slick that leaked with every stroke. Her cunt made a wet, obscene sound on every withdrawal, a kissing pull that turned to a slap when I bottomed out. The whole forest seemed to lean in, the glow of the plants brightening on each thrust, dimming on each retreat, the wind carrying her broken cries up through the branches.

She cursed me with every breath, but her body milked my cock like she couldn’t help it. Her thighs trembled around my hips, her belly fluttering each time I hit deep. Her nipples rubbed raw against my chest fur, every nerve ending strung so tight it was a wonder she didn’t snap.

“That’s it, little hunter,” I growled into her ear, slamming home and grinding against her cervix until she whimpered. “All that running. All that bravado. And here you are, dripping for me, taking every fucking inch.” I pulled back and drove in harder. “Your cunt knew what it wanted before your mouth did.”

She tried to snarl. It came out a moan.

I bent her knees up to her chest, pinning her completely, folding her in half so I could watch the bulge of my cock shape her belly with every stroke. My hand wrapped around her throat, not choking, just holding her there, making her look at me as I pounded her into the moss. Her thighs started to shake against my chest, that fine, uncontrollable tremor that meant she was already losing the fight.

“Look at you,” I growled, dragging my tongue up her jaw. “Trembling on my cock. About to come for the wolf you swore you’d kill. Go on. Let me feel it.”

She tried to shake her head. I felt the no die in her throat. Her belly clenched, her hips bucked up against mine in helpless little jerks she couldn’t control, and then her whole body locked tight around me. Her mouth fell open in a soundless scream, eyes rolling back, every muscle in her seizing.

She came hard. Came howling. Her cunt clamped down in violent, fluttering waves and squirted hot around my cock, slick gushing down my balls and pooling under her ass in the moss. The wet sound of it punched through the clearing, obscene and loud. Her hips kept bucking up into mine, riding it out on instinct, claws raking bloody lines down my back.

I didn’t stop. I fucked her straight through it, every stroke forcing another wet, gasping convulsion out of her until her thighs gave up shaking and just trembled, until her curses turned to whimpers and her body went limp and pliant beneath me, soaked through to the moss. Only then did I let myself go, burying deep and pumping her full in long, heavy ropes, the heat of it leaking out around my cock and running down the crack of her ass before I’d even pulled free.

I rolled her onto her side, holding her there, waiting for the tremors to fade. She lay still, hair plastered to her face, chest heaving.

“Thought you said you weren’t scared,” I whispered, nuzzling the crook of her neck.

She laughed, low and broken. “Fuck you.”

I grinned. “Next time.”

The forest was silent again, save for the chorus of her heartbeat and the distant call of a night-owl. I licked the blood from her shoulder where I’d marked her, then lay down beside her, draping my tail over her legs.

She didn’t push me away. Not yet.

---

She wasn’t done, and neither was I.

I let her catch her breath, the air thick with the stink of sweat and sex and magic so wild it crackled on my tongue. She curled into herself, chest heaving, eyes slitted in something between pleasure and rage. Her hands bunched in the moss, nails torn and muddy, but she didn’t try to hit me again. Not yet.

I rolled her onto her belly, pressing her face-first into the green. She snarled and tried to twist away, but my hand on her hip held her fast. Her ass was a mess of bruises and bite marks, each one mine. I spread her legs and felt her shudder, the muscles quivering beneath the skin. I could see every scar, every old wound, she’d been hunted before, and it had never stopped her.

I lined myself up, thick cock glazed in her juices, and slammed in to the root. She shrieked, tried to claw forward, but I yanked her back by the hips, locking her against me until my balls were flush to her clit. She was tight and wet and hot as a fresh kill, her walls fluttering around me in helpless little spasms.

I set a rhythm. Deep, slow, brutal. Pull back until the head almost slipped free, then bury it. Pull back. Bury it. Each stroke punched a wet, gasping sound out of her lungs. The sound of flesh on flesh echoed in the clearing, matched only by the slap of my balls against her thighs and the obscene, sucking noise her cunt made every time I dragged out of her. I leaned over, letting my fur rake down her back, and bit the nape of her neck hard enough to draw blood.

“Smell that?” I rumbled against her ear. “That’s you. Soaked all the way down to your boots. You came out here looking for a beast to bag and instead you’re bent over taking one balls-deep. Tell me, little hunter, was this the trophy you wanted?”

She bared her teeth into the moss. “Get fucked.”

“Working on it,” I growled, and drove in harder. “Say it. Say who owns these woods.”

She spat a curse, but it turned to a moan when I drove in harder, grinding against her ass with each stroke. The forest around us seemed to pulse with every thrust, the glow-bright moss flickering, the leaves shivering overhead. I slammed into her, over and over, each time waiting for her to break.

“Never,” she gasped, but the word was a whimper.

I fucked her rougher, pulling her up onto her knees so she was bent like an animal, arms splayed and cheek pressed to the earth. The position made her tighter, and I felt her cunt clench every time I bottomed out.

“Say it,” I repeated, biting her again, lower this time, leaving marks down her spine.

She shook her head, fighting tears or orgasm, I couldn’t tell. “You… fucking… bastard—”

I wrapped my arm around her throat, choking her just enough to make her pulse jump. With my other hand, I reached under her and found her clit, already swollen and twitching. I rolled it between my claws, gentle then brutal, until she sobbed and her whole body locked up.

“Say it,” I hissed.

She broke. “You do. Gods—y-you do.”

The words came out in a howl, torn from her with the force of my thrusts. I let go of her throat, grabbed her hips with both hands, and pounded her until her legs gave out and she collapsed into the moss. I kept fucking her anyway, dragging her hips back onto me, the heat building in my gut, my knot swelling thicker at the base with every stroke. The whole world narrowed to the wet, rhythmic clutch of her cunt and the way it caught harder each time I pulled back, the swelling root of me starting to drag on her rim.

She orgasmed again, violently, soaking me and the ground beneath. I fucked her straight through it, refusing to slow, my knot now thick enough that each thrust forced it past her stretched ring with an audible, slick pop. She sobbed at the stretch. She pushed back into it.

“One more,” I snarled, biting her shoulder. “Take it. Take all of me.”

I drove forward and ground in deep, working the knot past her swollen entrance one final time, and felt it lock. Her whole body seized around me, cunt convulsing in a third climax that tore a raw, ragged scream out of her throat. The lock held. She couldn’t pull off if she tried, and the knowledge of it sent her over again before the last wave had even faded, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, slick squirting hot down my balls.

Only then did I let myself follow, cumming so hard my vision blurred, the knot pulsing thick ropes of heat deep into her with every contraction. I ground in short, possessive jerks, working it deeper, painting her insides until there was nowhere left for it to go. My teeth found the meat of her shoulder and clamped down. Mine. Mine. Mine.

The knot kept us locked together long after the last spasm faded. She lay panting beneath me, every aftershock squeezing another weak shudder of cum out of me into her. I licked the bite mark and felt her tremble.

When the knot finally eased enough to let me slip free, I pulled out slow, watching her collapse in a heap, ass up and hole gaping, leaking thick rivulets of cum down the insides of her thighs. She shook, sobbing quietly, but when I touched her back she didn’t flinch away. I ran my claws over the marks I’d left, feeling a surge of pride that had nothing to do with trophies.

I wasn’t done. Not yet.

I flipped her over, dragging her limp body through the moss. Her eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, but her mouth twisted in a defiant sneer. I pressed my cock against her lips, still hard and wet, and she glared up at me.

“Open,” I said.

She did, barely, and I shoved inside, holding her head as I fucked her mouth. She gagged, but took it, every breath a whimper. I watched her throat bulge with every thrust, the strain and surrender mixed together in perfect harmony. When I pulled out, she coughed and spat, but licked the tip on her own, tasting the last of herself and me together.

I let her fall back, spent and wrecked and perfect.

The forest was silent again, except for our breathing and the quiet trickle of fluids running down her legs. I curled up behind her, wrapped a furred arm around her waist, and held her there until the tremors faded.

She stared up at the moon, eyes hollow and wild.

“Feel better?” I asked, running my tongue over the shell of her ear.

She snorted. “Fuck you.”

I grinned, satisfied. “You already did.”

She laughed then, broken and raw, and the sound rang out through the Expanse, echoing back at us from the bones of the old ruins.

The moss started to creep up around our bodies, slow and warm, cushioning us from the chill. The glowing plants pulsed in time with our heartbeats, casting everything in a soft, otherworldly glow.

I nuzzled her neck, licking the bite marks. “You’ll heal,” I promised.

She closed her eyes, breathing slow and deep. “Next time, I win.”

“Maybe,” I said, but I didn’t believe it.

The forest knew what it liked.

So did I.

---

Morning after in the Silver-Bark was a motherfucker.

Dew clung to every exposed inch of skin, the moss pressed flat beneath us into a perfect print of tangled limbs and cooling sweat. The sky overhead was just starting to pink up with dawn, and for a second the whole world felt weightless, like nothing bad or holy could touch us out here, at the ass-end of civilization and sanity.

Kira groaned and rolled onto her side, sticking to the moss in a patchwork of dried fluids, leaves, and blood. Her ass and thighs were marked up with purpling bruises, some already turning yellow at the edges. I admired my handiwork, dragging a lazy claw down her spine and counting the bites.

She didn’t slap me away. She just looked over her shoulder, face half-hidden by mud and hair, and said, “If you’re gonna eat me, do it before my legs stop working.”

I barked a laugh and licked the blood from her shoulder, slow and careful. “You’re not my type,” I lied. “I like my meat with a little more gratitude.”

She snorted, but the laugh turned into a wheeze. Her whole body shivered as she tried to sit up. “Fuck,” she said. “That’s gonna hurt for a week.”

I grinned, flashing canines. “Try a month. Expanse doesn’t let wounds heal fast.”

She spat out a dead bug and glared at me, but the rage was all spent. “What is this place?” she said. “It’s like the woods are watching us.”

“They are,” I said. “Always.”

She went quiet, letting the sounds wash over her, birds, wind, the occasional echo of some distant, bigger monster stalking a fresh meal. Her gaze went distant, then flicked back to me.

“The stories don’t do you justice, Hrodgar.”

I cocked my head. “They never do.”

She rolled onto her back, staring up at the sky. The marks I’d left were already starting to scab over, and her thighs gleamed with what I’d pumped into her. She ran a hand over her breast, felt the bite, and laughed again, this time with a raw edge of something almost like pride.

“Can I walk out of here, or are you gonna drag me back for a second round?” she said.

I stood, stretched, and let the morning chill harden my nipples and raise every hair on my tail. “You’re free to go,” I said. “You earned it.”

She sat up, slow and careful, then wiped the sweat and mud from her face. “You’ll let me leave?”

I shrugged. “You made it to sunrise. That’s more than most.”

She eyed me, then the moss, then her own hand trembling in her lap. “Guess I’ll have to find another forest,” she muttered.

I snorted. “You’ll be back. They all come back.”

She stood, swaying a little, and found her gear, most of it shredded, the crossbow missing a string, the knives dulled and bloody. She slung the bag over her shoulder, looked at me one last time, and said, “Next time, I bring silver.”

I grinned, all teeth. “You do that.”

She limped off through the brush, boots barely making a sound. I watched until she vanished between the trunks, then dropped back onto my haunches and basked in the afterglow.

The moss pulsed once, bright as a heartbeat, and I could feel the forest settle back into its old rhythms, sated and smug.

I licked my lips, cleaned the dirt from my claws, and waited for the next hunter to think they could own the Silver-Bark.

They never did.

But I always enjoyed letting them try.