In Heat - Jenlisa

Chapter 25 - Tear

Jennie's always had something of a penchant for dangerous beasts. Where other people see monsters, danger, do not engage, she sees potential for a new pet.

Beasts are something she knows; hunger is something she understands.

Lisa's wolf, though—might be pushing it. If Jennie wasn't so hellbent on uncovering everything about Lisa that she can, she might have reason to be concerned.

Lisa doesn't have toxic scales or venom. She doesn't excrete poison or have the ability to turn people to stone. What she does have is Jennie's heart in her pretty, manicured hands. If Lisa's wolf outright rejected her...

Jennie's not sure she would recover from such a blow. It would tear gruesomely inside her, the sort of wound that couldn't be stitched.

Lisa stares down at her with muscles taut like she's expecting a fight.

While Jennie loves Lisa's regular hazel, something about the strange yellow of the wolf's eyes pricks at her awareness, the primitive instinct roaring to life within her. She quite enjoys the feeling of adrenaline surging through her bones (though she could do without the quickening heartbeat that Lisa no doubt can hear).

As Jennie's open palm nears her face, Lisa does nothing to dispel the illusion of a deadly predator. She just watches, silent and suspicious and tense like Jennie's some stranger getting too close to her.

The thought of Lisa's wolf not even recognizing her irritates Jennie like nothing else. She could have seen the wolf's eyes through a darkened window from a hundred yards away and still would have known without question that it was Lisa. It's disheartening to think Lisa's wolf may not view her the same way.

Of course, Jennie isn't one to quit prematurely. She makes a soothing noise in the back of her throat, the same click she uses to calm the horses when thunderstorms roll over her family's estate in hopes of provoking a response, but Lisa doesn't react. She's fallen silent, all growling ceasing as her eyes track Jennie's hand.

With her heart pounding a steady rhythm, Jennie cups Lisa's cheek with her palm. If she dies, she dies, Jennie figures.

Lisa blinks, realizes Jennie's holding her like she's made of something fragile and precious beyond measure, and melts.

She mewls—there's no other way to describe it—and turns her head to lick Jennie's wrist. Jennie contemplates her, ignoring the bloom of heat in her stomach as Lisa begins sucking on her fingers.

Jennie has to muffle a gasp, silently warning herself to keep her shit together. Her utmost and sole priority now is to satisfy Lisa; everything else, including her own arousal, can go hang.

Jennie pulls her hand away, swallowing down the urge to groan at how Lisa's cheeks puff out in disappointment. How cruel that a sight so threatening, yellow eyes and sharp teeth, can inspire such an intense feeling of adoration. She would burn if a single hair on Lisa's hair were harmed.

If it weren't for the fact that Lisa's emotions are so plain on her face while in this state, Jennie would suspect she's doing it on purpose just to fuck with her. And oh, how it would amuse Lisa to know she managed to get under Jennie's skin with a mere expression, the little brat.

Lisa's style of flirting is evidently faking obliviousness to the many things she does to test Jennie's rapidly decaying self-control. How is Jennie supposed to abide by the rules when Lisa does things like nest naked in her bed while she's away? Who could possibly withstand such an onslaught?

"Do you still want to come?" Jennie asks, wondering if the wolf is entirely non-verbal. From a scientific standpoint, it's fascinating to note such tremendous personality differences between two sides of the same person.

Lisa doesn't seem to hear her. She trembles, her back tensed hard enough to strain her stomach muscles, but doesn't move. It's another moment before Jennie realizes she's waiting silently for a signal.

Something warm unfolds deep in Jennie's stomach. Her Lisa, her pretty girl, always trying to be good. Hers.

Jennie releases a shuddering breath and wraps her hands around Lisa's hips. It's the most comfortable weight she's ever felt in her palms. She shifts Lisa forward, slow and careful in case the wolf objects, but is met with no protest.

Emboldened, Jennie increases the pressure, tilting her hips to give Lisa a better angle. She can feel the ghost of her own orgasm with every press against her, but it doesn't matter. She's too focused on Lisa to even consider coming again.

Lisa moans, the sound sticking in her throat, and Jennie knows she's close. Lisa's movements are uneven now, rougher, and the sounds escaping her mouth come from somewhere deeper than her voice ever has. Her skin dampens with sweat under Jennie's hands as her rocking becomes erratic.

The only warning Jennie gets that things are about to take an abrupt turn is a flash of yellow above her—Lisa's eyes as she bends down with her gaze locked onto Jennie's neck. Because hunger is something Jennie understands, her heart thunders in her chest as she watches Lisa lick her lips in anticipation.

Lisa's mouth opens wide over her exposed throat, and for one wild moment, Jennie thinks this is how she dies.

Lisa turns and buries her face in the pillow beside her, narrowly avoiding Jennie's neck. Her teeth rip through the fragile fabric, spilling feathers onto the soaked mattress as she comes. Lisa makes a choked little noise of disappointment but doesn't unlatch her jaw from the pillow until she's stopped shaking.

Jennie disregards her instincts warning her to remain still and reaches up to trail her fingers through Lisa's sweaty hair. It will take hours to pick the wayward feathers out of her hair, but perhaps she can work on that while Lisa recovers in the bath.

She tells herself it isn't logical to feel disappointed that Lisa didn't claim her when it isn't even marginally the right time in the courting process. If they remain on schedule, Jennie estimates that they might form a bond within the next two months, depending on how long it takes her to plan and execute the third step. It has to be something truly spectacular to be worthy of Lisa, after all.

There is always the chance that Lisa doesn't accept her in the end, to which Jennie would probably respond by absconding to that monastery governed by Vampires in Romania to live out her days of pining in isolation lest she be reminded of Lisa every time she catches a glimpse of sunlight hair or blue skies, but it feels unlikely—especially after this latest tryst.

The last time Jennie fucked her could have been explained away by necessity since Lisa was in heat, but this occasion doesn't carry the same connotations. This time was about want rather than need, and Jennie is, secretly and silently, thrilled.

It bodes well for her chances of proving her capability as a mate that Lisa trusted her enough to nest in her bed, let alone permit the sex that came after.

Jennie hasn't ever experienced such good fortune in her life. Perhaps her ancestors actually approve, for once; it would certainly make for a nice change of pace.