DALIA

DALIA, the secretary of the Moon Goddess, is met by the deity's most troubled victim; the first and only lycanthrope. In a violent heist, the lycan abducts the loyal secretary as leverage.

Two figures from different worlds are forced to revaluate their nebulous histories, and additionally their desires.

What is it that the Beast truly wants?

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When my lips touched his he awakened underneath me, gripped my hips and pulled me onto him. His lips were soft and eager, velvet with the aggression of steel, soaking me up and derailing my cognizance. I was barely there, a heap melding into him to the best of my ability.

He flickered his tongue against my teeth, whether tasting me or letting me taste, we were meshing together at the seams all the same. I slipped beneath our interlock and rested my head in the crook of his neck, heaving quietly as my breath flowered onto his flesh. He smelled of musk and pine and tasted none the sweeter, but I craved to indulge in that addictive bittersweetness and plunge back into the domain of his bite. His hardness raised into the sheets and against my thigh, inviting me not to delay. I wanted to draw my tongue over his canines instead of withdrawing from shyness.

My hair enveloped us, sweeping over my craned figure and warmed the upper half of his exposed chest. He raised his hand to unsheath me and combat that compulsive sheepishness, skating two claws up my body to maneuver the strands over my shoulder and encase the back of my naked neck in the monstrous expanse of his grip. His contentment spurred through his chest.

In an unexercised, spent mumble he said, "You're so confusing."

"I didn't know what it was I wanted."

"Do you know now?"

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