Werewolf Moon (The Pack Trilogy Book 1) Read Free Page B

pen—”
    “That’s precisely what it is,” the light voice broke into his thoughts. “It’s the symbol for starting a family.”
    “Makes sense,” Michael mumbled. “Should have guessed that.”
    “You’re not the best reader, but maybe you’re strong and fast? Make a good warrior?” the woman said with a smile.
    Michael brightened. “Yes Doamnă. That’s just why I came. I can hit anything at 200 stânjen with a bow and arrow, and at half that with a spear. Oh and I can climb a tree faster than anybody I know.”
    It was the woman’s turn to choke back a laugh.
    “Know what? I believe I’d like a demo of that last talent.” She looked around and pointed at a wide white oak tree. “Can you climb that one?”
    Michael’s eyes followed her gaze. White oaks had luxurious, thick leaves covering branches that looked deceptively wide and strong. From past experience, Michael knew that many branches started out thick, then swiftly narrowed to a width that wouldn’t support a fat raccoon. Yet, this was a challenge.
    “Yes, doamnă!”
    “Right, then. One, two, three. GO!”
    Michael took off at a dead run. As he reached the oak, his superior height allowed him to make a massive leap upward where he just caught a branch no other man could have reached without climbing to it. From that branch, he climbed rapidly upward and reached the top in seconds to open delight and clapping from the woman below. Instantly he headed back down, aware that the faster he went, the less pressure he’d apply to these thin branches.
    “You’ll do, Michael. You’ll do!”
    And that is how Michael found himself being regularly beaten black and blue by a squadron of lads a year ahead of him in training. However, that meant nothing to Michael considering what else he was learning: the finer points of that second symbol, to his own disbelief.
    The lady turned out to be the Countess Bathory herself! After Michael had trained for two weeks, she met him as he walked to a nearby lake for a bath.
    “Bet that water is cold this time of year,” she remarked.
    “Yes, doamnă Bathory,” he responded nervously.
    “Don’t call me that! My name is Liz,” she told him. “Come on. I know where there’s a much warmer place to bathe.”
    She’d led him to a remote castle entry point, then down so many halls that he’d been instantly lost. He was so busy studying his surroundings that it didn’t matter.
    The statues alone were so different from anything he’d imagined in such a castle. Naked people, mostly. Why have statues of something you see all the time? Rich people were a mystery, he concluded.
    He came to a room with an enormous tub of water being heated by a series of small fires, each tended by a child. His mouth dropped. Who in the world was rich enough to live like this! All of that work: the wood brought in, fires started, water hauled—just so rich people could scrub their arses. He learned quickly enough that there were other uses for heated water. Elizabet asked him to step up on the platform and look into the tub as there was, “Something interesting he should see.”
    Dutifully he’d climbed the ladder and arrived next to her. Looking down into the mist coming off the heated water, he said, “I can’t see a thing.”
    Next thing he knew, she gave him a massive shove and he landed butt first into truly hot water. She roared with laughter.
    “See well enough now?” she asked as she’d dropped her robe and stepped in after him, stark naked.
    For the first time in his life, Michael was truly speechless—a state he was to become familiar with during his time in Bathory Castle.
    They romped for hours. He learned what a mouth on his cock felt like (sheer heaven,) and what a twat tasted like (not bad, but nothing like heaven.) He enjoyed his first lengthy kiss and thought he’d die from the pleasure of it, and finally she allowed him to penetrate her.
    Then he knew he’d die from the pleasure of it.
    He learned