Sapphire Wolf

By PJ Port

Steampunk Wolf-Man Dog-Man Tale, and Love Story: Raylee spots the man of her dreams. Except, he's not exactly a man.
~ Which makes her even more determined to claim him for her own.
But ... why, if she already carries the scent of a wolf, does she not know proper wolf lore? Why was she abandoned as a child? And why are there so many false wolf-blind and dangerous Priestesses, yet so few good wolves and true Priestesses to deal with red-eyed killer-wolf cur?
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paranormal romance fantasy
~ mostly polite language

• Language: English
• Publisher: UnicornPanther Books
• Release date: Dec 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301406265

PJ Port

~ dreamer, writer, gramma ~ I mostly write Happy-Ending Love Story novels -- sappy, trashy, past, present, futuristic, and otherworldly -- though not usually of any one specific category. My short stories, on the other hand, seem to be an unrelated assortment of speculative/fantasy musings. I like to read hybrid combinations of mystery, paranormal, romance, sci-fi/fantasy, and humor. (But try to avoid horror, suspense, and thrillers.) *My favorite teacher advised me to "specialize," so as not to be a "Jack of all trades and master of none (like her)." But the Jack sounded like so much more fun, and I admired 'her' versatility so much, that I didn't listen. From Algebra classrooms to Massage and Reiki tables to Writing pads, my professional interactions have been as varied as the seasons. And alas, my stories follow suit ... mixing genres and being none.* ~~~~~~~~~~ Life circumstances have delayed my next release. But I haven't given up! Hope to be be back in gear soon. ~~~~~~~~~~

Book preview

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Sapphire Wolf

by

PJ Port

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Copyright 2012 PJ Port

all rights reserved

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published by

UnicornPanther Books

Smashwords Edition

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Smashwords Edition, License Statement

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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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dedicated to

Angela & Daniel

David, Jr. & Jesse

Aaron & Emma

Brittany & Dalton

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contents

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Sapphire Wolf

author's notes

preview of Krish

sample of Novan

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disclaimer

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This author is a fanciful soul with a casual-talk ear who prefers imagination over fact, and normal flow-of-thought over being grammatically correct.

Therefore, she makes no claims of historical, social, fashionable, grammatical, or scientific accuracy.

This story and these characters are purely fictitious products of said author's off-beat imagination, and in no way represent any actual events, situations, or persons — living or dead.

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~1~

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Theirs was a traveling group. Sampling life from place to place, offering and finding a bit of entertainment in this village or that as they wandered across the plains with scant few possessions to weight upon their backs.

Raylee enjoyed their nomadic life — before she met the wolf.

It seemed a chance encounter. At first.

They'd passed by a large black-and-tan dog resting beside a pull-cart of dirt in which grew a tree. A pretty little tree, barely a meter tall but of an enchanting dark green and perfectly shaped for what the Christians would call a 'Christmas Tree.'

There being no people in sight, Raylee's troupe paid little heed. And except for his head lifting to watch them walk past, he'd paid them just as little.

Raylee thought the tree a noteworthy specimen, and the dog's eyes an especially pretty deep blue, but gave it no other thought. —Until they passed him again, the following day, resting on the other side of a village they'd made merry in and camped beyond for the night.

This time, he stood to watch them pass. And his pretty blue eyes followed only Raylee.

It being her turn at shouldering a corner of the tent's litter, she could only twist-neck so far to return stare, but she felt his gaze upon her back for as long as he could see it. That thought made her smile for the rest of the day.

On the third day, they came upon what she was sure was the same pull-cart and tree being pulled by a fabulously handsome black-haired man with stunning blue sapphire eyes.

Fles, their pace-setter, slowed to exchange pleasantries and local info at the cart man's more leisurely stride.

Raylee, bunching about his cart with the rest of their group, admired the muscles pushing at the cross-beam of his pull-bars as Dauz identified himself and suggested an 'excellent' camp-site five kilometers on.

Has a freshwater stream good for drinking and fishing. Sturdy rock overhang for shelter. Grove of wild figs upstream. Herd of wild goats downstream. And no homesteader laying claim. Be glad to point the off-path, if you wouldn't mind sharing. Has a little cave I'm partial to this time of year.

Much obliged, agreed Fles, nodding his short-cropped-blond head in polite acceptance. And always glad of company. How far to the next village, would you say?

Quarter-day further, at a fast-walk pace.

Raylee liked his voice — it seemed to purr in the ear — and knew he'd be fabulously handsome even before he swiveled head to look over his shoulder at her. But the stunning blue sapphire eyes rushed an unexpected breath into her lungs.

He smiled only slightly, just enough to dimple cheeks, and turned attention back to walking. And sharing info. Three days beyond to the next one. A modern town. They've an air-ship there. Roars like a lion. And a saloon with a motion-picture wall. More people than I care for, myself. But if you like rowdy folks, you'll likely find it amusing.

His mane of straight raven-black hair draped smooth bronzed shoulders, but seemed to grow an extended narrow patch half-way down his naked back, to then hang free to where the small of his back curved just above his belt.

Raylee's own dark-brown mop felt best when trimmed less than finger short. Preferably, at only an inch. Like now. But she'd always considered long flowing tresses attractive on others, when neat, and his mass of black silky strands mesmerized like draping rose-petal vines swaying about in wind — just begging to be caught, touched, and smelled. The way his hands gripped on the cross-beam mesmerized even more. And that was only the beginning.

Her eyes watched his hips walking, his hair brushing that narrow-spot curve of back, and imagined the rest of him bare. Her nose imagined a spicy spikenard scent that made her lungs breathe deep and her brain go fuzzy, while her tongue imagined an oregano counterpart that made her mouth water with a desire for taste. The rest of her imagined a warm cozy softness of skin over firm hard muscle that ached her body with a desire for touch.

We do enjoy making merry, Fles admitted. Do they like music and magic there? That's how we pay our way in most villages.

Loud music. And circus magic. Silly pranks that make them laugh, too, if you've a knack. They especially like being amused there. I'm a quiet sort, myself. He twisted neck to look, again, at Raylee — a long slow look, up and down — before looking back forward. "But a few colorful sky-works are nice on a dark-moon night. Colorful quiet ones. Worth a pebble or two on occasion."

Fles chuckled. A pebble or two would buy a fair amount of merry-making, most places.

Aye. And the moon's dark tonight.

Aye. And a worthwhile exchange, for sure.

If you duck under that big limb up the way there, and step around a boulder stone, you'll see a grass-covered path that'll be easy to follow without my slowing you down the whole way.

Much obliged, friend. And we'll have supper to share when you get there.

The rest followed Fles, their lean fully-clothed traveler-bodies seeming frail — despite the heavy traveling packs they carried so effortlessly — as they filed past Dauz's robust manliness at their resumed standard pace. But Raylee dawdled, hoping for another smile, when she came alongside him. She wasn't disappointed.

Those stunning blue sapphires returned stare, peered into her soul, and 'glinted' — like true sapphire facets in sunlight — as the rest of his features crinkled into a bone-meltingly attractive half-smile. And then he growled ... a flirtatious kind of growl that made her blush and half-smile back.

Except for head and down mid-back, he was hairless. Bronzed, muscled, and hairless. But not 'overly' muscled. Not bulging. 'Sturdy.' And he did smell of spikenard.

The others had disappeared under the big limb, and he'd slowed even more with attention as focused on Raylee as hers was on him.

He growled again. And she stepped closer.

He lifted the pull-bars, and she ducked under to walk beside him.

He flexed muscles when her hand slid down a bare section of back — coming to rest just above his belt — and growled again. She tasted his shoulder. He did taste of oregano. And did have warm cozy skin over firm hard muscle.

Tell me your name, seraph. And that you'll avail yourself, void of fear.

"Raylee. And I do avail myself. Void of fear."

"Not yet. If at dark of moon, you claim me. Void of fear. Then at full-light of moon, I can claim you."

Then I 'claim' you.

"Not yet. Tonight. After the sky-works, in full dark. Be sure, though. See me for what I am."

I saw you yesterday. And the day before.

"And still you'll feel no fear?"

Not if I can claim you.

"And do you know 'how' to claim me?"

That depends. Are the legends true?

Depends on which legends you've heard. He paused before the big limb to smile, and growl, at her again. But if you know me when you see me, and feel no fear, the rest should be easy enough.

Her eyes left his to watch her fingers comb through his thick mane of hair. But if you like wild slutty bitches, I might need another moon — to get some practice in.

This time he growled with a slight showing of teeth. "I'd prefer you untouched. All mine."

So, not pregnant? Or nursing?

Virgin. Just as you are.

"Are you sure?"

Positive.

She ducked under an arm to snuggle her chest to his. Sure I'm virgin? Or sure that's what you want?

Both.

"Good. Cause I've never much liked whore-dogs. Or wild slutty bitches."

"Not my preferred company, be assured."

"Not that there's anything wrong with them. Just not my idea of worthwhile 'intimate' company."

My sentiments exactly.

Her hands slid up his chest, then down the biceps of arms that still gripped the cross-beam behind her. "I've never even wanted intimate company before."

His nose crinkled slightly, scenting her desire for him now. Tonight. At full dark.

Pressing her body to his, the hard bulge her hip massaged in his trousers told her he didn't want to wait any more than she did.

The lip-curling growl through barred teeth was more warning than flirt. Tonight. At full dark. But he talked with a sun-glint of eye that told her he 'liked' being teased.

And in the dark, will I find the man? Or the dog?

His eyes sun-glinted a tease of their own. "The wolf."

Mmn. Can't wait for 'light' moon, then. And she ducked back under his arm to walk close without hampering his pull-stride.

He grinned over his arm at her as they ducked under the limb. Nor I, seraph. Nor I.

And have you been claimed before?

"Not in this generation. Nor in this land. Few there are, here, who even see me."

"Mmn. How can anyone not see you? And she caressed down his back again, letting her hand come to rest on his opposite hip. Especially your eyes. Do other people see them as sapphires?"

"You're the first to tell me they could. Before claiming. But I suspect, only those who can see the true me. With such details being more obvious, it would seem, here in this land. For those who can see."

And how long will I get to own you?

"For life. Your life."

"Mmn. I hadn't heard that one. Even 'better,' if I get to keep you."

"A 'virgin' claim is for life. Other kinds must be renewed often, or the dog strays. Worse, if the wolf's of the kind who hunts humans."

Is yours?

No. Not even when young.

Good to know.

His eyes glinted over his arm at her again. "Not for food, that is."

Mmn.

Don't care for casual whoring, though.

Else you'd've had me and gone by now.

Had you, but not gone, seraph. Not for a long time yet.

Mmn.

The grass path was easy to follow — even more so with the trampling of a couple dozen feet — good level walking ground. But a mere few yards along, Dauz turned onto a rock-strewn gap between boulders that crossed over into a wooded area with no path at all.

Here he slid the cart bowl forward, rotated the wheel axle so that the two wheels folded up flat as another wheel unfolded down, slid the bowl back into place, shortened the pull-bars, and turned the whole thing about as a push-cart whose single wheel he maneuvered between rocks with a skill that provided the tree a smooth even ride.

Raylee could only stare at such quick effortless precision. But stepped up fast when he growled over his shoulder for her to follow.

You understood.

She grinned. I did.

Good fruit here. Fill a bag, if you want. Just don't say where. Not enough for more bags.

Your private stash, then. Her hand caressed up his back, and mouth tasted shoulder, before pulling a bag from her pack. But she collected from overhead branches without stepping away from him. His scent and eyes and muscles kept her elbow-close. And none of the fruits smelled good enough for tasting instead of him.

The woods ended — as sun reached western horizon — becoming a boulder-strewn shrub field. Beyond this, she could see and hear her group setting up camp. No way had he walked her five kilometers. Nowhere near at the leisurely pace he'd set.

He winked at her questioning glance. Short-cut.

Just within easy sight of camp, he let the cart rest upon its brace-legs and, pulling two small pouches from his pocket, turned to face her. Lifting her hand, he emptied the contents of one onto her palm. Two three-carat gem-cut diamonds tumbled out. After rolling them about for her inspection, he dropped them back into their pouch and left it on her palm.

To your fellows, for the sky-works.

From the other pouch, he pulled a flatter thumbnail sized sapphire — faceted on one side and rounded smooth on the other — which he balanced between thumb and fore-finger, its facets angled to glitter before her eyes in the setting sun. For you.

From the same pouch he pulled a simple silver broach, its gem-prongs surrounded by a circle of hand-tied wire love-knots. Fourteen knots. The number of days from full-dark to full-light moon.

The sapphire fit its prongs perfectly, and its back snapped closed over the smooth side as though molded for that very stone. As he pinned it to her shirt — mid-throat, level with her collarbone — his eyes glinted exactly like the stone. Let them think you've already earned it.

He smiled and growled at her blush. Then, knowing her fellows watched, he hugged her, his hands pressing her hips to his, press-massaging his still-hard erection between them. "And please don't take it off. Not for any reason."

She forgot to be embarrassed, wanting him to kiss her, no matter who saw, to taste and be tasted, but he just inhaled along her neck while she tasted his. Then stepped them apart.

Tell your friend the offer was appreciated. But I don't eat bloodless meat. Village road's a straight shot south from the fig grove. And there's a black-powder pit a little west of their camp that's especially good for replenishing sky-work supplies. Careful, though. Extra-strong. So wear protective gear.

His arms felt so good about her, his muscles so good in her hands, that her body ached when he let go.

No kiss to cheek, not even hand, no taste of her at all. And only a brief embrace. But she could still taste him as he lifted his push-bars and walked away ... could still feel his hands gripped on her backside, and erection pressed between them. Even his scent clung to her skin, and clothes, as though they were his.

She stood watching him walk away, wanting to follow — especially when he looked back over his shoulder to deliver a final growl — wanting more time, more info, more everything.

A single flash of wheel-spoke in sun drew her eyes from him. That's when she saw the silver chain wound about its rim. Not shiny polished silver like her broach. Tarnished and weathered-enough-to-be-iron silver.

Smiling, she turned toward camp.

So. An old obscure legend, then — heard whispered at a long ago funeral in the land of her childhood ... at her grandmother's funeral, by two old grannies gossiping in a corner.

If only she'd wrapped the chain about his neck.

Can't blame her, though. After what happened to her sister. Put the fear of God in ALL of us, that did.

But she had to KNOW hers wasn't that kind. Nowhere NEAR that kind. Did you hear how he howled? Never heard a more lonesome mourning wail. Rent my heart clean in two!

Not a shred of cur in HIM, that's true.

Nothing but good in that one. Good honest love. If only she'd wrapped the chain about his neck.

Been worth her WHILE, that's true. WELL worth her while.

Howled all NIGHT, he did. Never heard that one howl at all before.

"My great-granny said he did. YEARS ago. And that his mating growl could melt your britches CLEAN OFF!"

I'd've chained him. For just ONE of 'those' nights.

Raylee touched the broach at her throat.

Could he be 'that' kind of wolf? Had to be. No mention of virgin claims, though.

Her cheeks remembered to blush when 'knowing' grins greeted her return to their group. Not that anyone would think anywhere near the truth. Beyond their lust for one another, of course. More inclined to merry-making than legend or lore, none of her fellows would've believed the rest, even if she'd told.

No one mentioned the broach. But everyone danced a jig over the diamonds, and set to work earning them. —After devouring the fruit.

The smell of roasting goat hurried them along. But high-grade pebbles deserved everyone's best efforts.

Even Raylee's. Whose senses buzzed with a strange new instinct more compelling than hunger.

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Raylee watched the surrounding hills for glints as the sun disappeared, but saw none. She drank some water, but still unwilling to replace the taste of him in her mouth, ate nothing.

How would she find him?

The group waited for total darkness before beginning the sky-works. Soft, yet brilliant, displays of color lit the sky then. Near soundless zing-puff explosions of complex design, crisscrossing and mingling in truly ingenious patterns that were their troupe's special secret.

But Raylee watched the night landscape, lit by flickering light. And ... at last she saw. —The glint of blue sapphire eyes reflecting an artificial glow.

She stood, eyes marking the horizon with intense focus, pulse quickening. Her post forgotten.

Would he stay put? Hunt? Hide?

A second glint started her feet walking. Sky-work flickers lit boulders in her path, outlined shrubs, and shimmered off water in a second crossing of stream. —Where her nose caught his scent on the breeze. More pungent than the man, more green than aged, but still spikenard.

She found the cart backed into a cozy alcove. Goats bleated from a long way off and a wolf howled from the same direction.

Raylee hoped the wolf dined as leisurely as the man walked.

She found the levers easily enough, pulled the cart's bowl forwards and switched the wheels to put the single one up. But how to unwind the chain? Ah! The hub screwed off, releasing the spokes from their rim — which then released from the rubber lining and parted at a cinch-groove, letting its chain slide away clear.

And. In the hub bowl — packed in a substance that wafted away on the breeze like goose down — were a pair of eye-scope glasses and a smooth metal cup. A bit of wisdom lore flitted to mind.

"If you want a dog to love you, throw some urine on him."

Couldn't hurt.

Better yet, old-country grannies would advise, "If you want a wolf to love you, water his tree. To which one would invariably counter with, Mark his territory. And another would add, During your monthly. At which someone would comment, More likely to get you wolf-whored, that.