Description
Madalynn had a frightening definition of fun. Every full moon they would drive out into the countryside before sundown and she would give him an hour head start. The goal was to “survive” as she jokingly put it, but Eliot wasn’t sure if she realized it actually somewhat felt like that for him. He genuinely tried to escape her every time, but a werewolf’s nose was as good as a bloodhound’s, and it had a far more cunning mind guiding it. Elliot considered it a win if she didn’t actively ambush him but had to instead simply run him down.
This time he’d tried to kill his scent in the stream. A terrible mistake as he found out. Now she had him pinned against the riverbed, his head barely above the water.
“I heard the splashing a mile away,” she breathed in his ear, her voice a guttural growl in her werewolf body. “If you’re going to try and mask your scent, at least pick a stream that's moving quickly so you’re harder to hear.”
Elliot couldn’t keep a whimper from his throat. He knew he wasn’t actually in any danger, but her werewolf form had seven inches of height and a hundred pounds on him, and the ability to heal from wounds unless they were inflicted by a silver weapon. She could do whatever she wanted to him and there was genuinely nothing he could do to stop her. He could only be glad she wanted his body in a different way.
Still, his whimper made her shudder in delight.
“Think of it as community service,” she grinned, with teeth. She effortlessly tore his shirt off like it was made from paper towel. “You’re helping me keep my hunting instincts in check after all, now are you going to try and deny a girl her prize?”
DarthDude
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