Chapter 9

When they walked back into the bedroom they stared at the size of the new bed and smiled. Casey took a small hop and leapt head first onto the bed, squealing in delight. She rolled onto her back and raised her hands over her head, stretching.

Dagomarus grinned and saw something he hadn't enjoyed yet today, her feet. Her toes were pointed as she stretched herself out straight. He watched as she wiggled her toes and rotated her feet around on her ankles. Casey hadn't seen his intent stare yet; she was enjoying the softness of the new bed, humming with her eyes closed.

Dagomarus stepped up to the edge of the bed, looking at her body laid out before him. He could smell her excitement starting to waft up to his nostrils. He lowered his head and extended his tongue, cupping her heel and running it up the length of her foot. He reveled in the taste of her sweat, her special flavor that covered every inch of her body. He could feel every line and crease in the sole of her foot as his tongue traveled up to her toes. He slithered the tip between her toes and nibbled on the end of her big toe.

Her body arched when he nibbled on her toe and a deep groan of pleasure rose out of her mouth. He did the same to her other foot and this time, he took the entire top of her foot in his mouth and slithered his tongue between each toe. He grazed his teeth along the top of her foot and as he pulled back, then gently took her four smaller toes between his front teeth and grazed them as he pushed the tip of his tongue along the ball of her foot.

Casey had grabbed the corner post with both hands and gripped it so hard her knuckles turned white. Her back arched and her breathing was ragged. When his teeth grazed her small toes she had a mini orgasm.

"Unhh! Unhh! UNNHHHAAAaaaa!"

Her body flexed and flopped back down onto the mattress. Her body shivered slightly and she curled her toes, trying to get away from the intense sensations, but at the same time her legs pushed her feet towards his tongue.

"OHH! I love you, fuzzy-face! You make my feet feel so good!"

She pulled her shirt off and removed her bra, tossing them onto the floor. She hooked her fingers under her waistband and pushed her shorts and panties off her legs, only taking her feet away from his wonderful tongue just long enough to throw them onto the floor as well.

Dagomarus continued to lick the bottoms of her feet, trying to absorb as much of her special flavor as he could. He licked her arches and the tops of her feet. He hooked his tongue under her ankle and used the tip to rub small circles in that little hollow just behind the knob. He moved up slowly along the insides of her legs, savoring every inch that he tasted.

When he reached her knees, he was careful not to tickle her this time. He still wanted to taste a certain spot behind her knee. That was a special spot; there were scent glands there, along with thousands of nerve endings. Curling his tongue behind her knee, he tasted that slightly stronger musk that was uniquely hers.

She jumped when he touched her, but he used more pressure this time, more of a massage than a light touch that would tickle. Her moans were getting louder and louder. She could no longer keep her hands locked on the corner post. She spread her hands over her breasts, lightly squeezing her nipples between her fingers as she kneaded them. Her head was rolling from side to side; her eyes squeezed shut.

He moved up to her thighs when he couldn't taste her sweat behind her knees anymore, he had cleaned her skin completely. The deep musk of her womanhood filled the air thickly. It seared a sizzling trail down his nostrils that went right to his brain, lighting it up. He could see her juices leaking from between her puffy inner lips. They ran down the crack between her cheeks. He couldn't resist the urge to lap every drop up.

He snaked his tongue underneath her and tasted her juices on the bedspread. He let it fill the pores of his tongue before pulling it up along her crack. He paused at her rosebud, encircling it pushing on it slightly. Her legs went stiff and her deep grunt of surprise and moan of pleasure echoed off the walls. He cupped his tongue and run it up to her lips, catching the moisture that had run out of her. He stopped short of her opening, pulling his tongue back inside his mouth so he could savor the intense taste of her juices.

It was like a wave spilling down his tongue. He could feel the electric tingling of the nerves and the taste buds swelling as her juices coated his tongue. He rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth so that he could taste her everywhere. He slithered his tongue back to her rosebud and ran the tip around it several times.

She was grunting again, the feelings were so intense. He pushed his tongue into her slightly, feeling the wrinkled muscle tighten against his intrusion. He wiggled the tip around the tight ring and felt her relax a little as the pleasure shot up through her.

She could feel his tongue running up her crack and when he pushed his tongue inside her the nerves lit up, making her stomach muscles contract. She was kneading her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers, squeezing them and sending little shocks right to her clitoris, making it itch and tingle. She could feel her juices leaking out between her lips, slowly dripping down her crack, tickling the sensitive hairs.

She grunted again as that wonderful tongue pushed into her again and started to wiggle and flex against the ring. She could feel her orgasm building again, this time from lower in her belly. It felt different, but wonderful at the same time. She was getting close when that tongue slipped out of her ring and traveled up to her lips. She could feel the tip cupping against her skin, feeling it gather the juices that had never stopped running out of her.

She felt his tongue flatten out against her lips, mashing them against her mons. This opened them up slightly and it felt like there was a small river of moisture trickling out of her. She heard him swallow and felt that glorious tongue lap up all that she let loose.

The surge of pleasure that hit her when he grazed her swollen lips with his teeth was so intense she couldn't breathe for a few seconds. Her chest seized and her nipples were on fire. Then his tongue was slithering inside her opening, pushing her open, and filling her. The feeling of it flexing inside of her was indescribable, nothing could compare to having that thick muscle flexing and twisting inside of her. She felt the tip press against her cervix and a new wave of pleasure swept over her.

She was climbing that special hill inside; she could feel the pressure building inside her lower belly. There was a certain deep itch that felt relieved when his tongue ran circles around that tight muscle ring of her cervix. She could hardly breathe fast enough to feed her starving lungs, her blood screaming for oxygen as it streamed down to fill that center of pleasure.

Her whole body shook when his teeth grazed the hood over her clit. She could feel those sharp edges just barely scraping over the surface of her skin, sending little sparks through the flesh of the hood down into her clitoris. She could feel that ball of tension that signaled her impending climax.

It kept getting tighter and tighter as he continued to push his tongue around her cervix and graze her hood. It felt like there was a softball-sized bundle of pressure building up in her womb. It felt like it was filled with super thick liquid. Her moans were continuous now; she was getting closer to that precipice. The wiggling and the flexing of that tongue inside of her kept her on the fast track. She felt the tip curl inside of her and drag against the top of her tunnel, and then it found that little patch of nerves that was hiding beneath her clitoris.

The bundle of tension in her lower belly went from softball sized to volleyball sized in just seconds as the tip of his tongue swirled, pushing against that bundle of nerves. At the same time, her clit was on fire, and had swollen to the point that it was almost painful. His teeth never stopped going back and forth over her hood.

She was riding that knife-edge now; it was almost there. That ball of pressure felt like it was trapped against her opening, trying to get out but couldn't. She felt it release suddenly, like a water balloon bursting and all that fluid rushed out of her in one push.

When his teeth jabbed down onto her clit, that hot poker of nerves fired up and she screamed her orgasm into the ceiling. It was a deep primal scream, launching itself from her pelvic bone up and out of her chest. Her back bowed and her arms shot out to grab at nothing in the air, her fists clenching. Her legs stiffened and her toes pointed out straight.

Every nerve in her body was humming like a guitar string that had just been plucked. Her muscles seized tight, her chest spasms prevented her from drawing a deep breath. Then she flopped back down onto the bed, quiet except the shuddering breath that her body drew in and released slowly. She had passed out, but her body still twitched every few seconds.

Dagomarus slipped his tongue out of her and savored the fruits of his labor. He laid his head on her belly and waited for her to wake up. It didn't take long for her to start moaning and shuddering as she slowly awoke. Her eyes were open but they were unfocused and she had a faint smile on her lips. He watched her through the valley of her breasts with his wet chin on her stomach. She tried to speak but her voice cracked. She swallowed a couple times and tried again.

"I think I know how it feels to be immortal now."

How is that, my love?

"I just died and came back."

She giggled and tried to raise her head but couldn't. She just relaxed and let the strength come back to her muscles. Dagomarus reveled in her pleasure and contentment. Her skin was glowing with an inner light that reminded him of the full moon on a clear winter night. Her skin glistened with sweat and her musky perfume filled the room with its wonderful heady bouquet.

Her sigh was heavy as she basked in the aftermath of the orgasm that had released the tensions of the day; her body and mind totally relaxed.

"You always seem to know what I need and give it to me. For that, I love you."

Her tears rolled slowly down her temples, tears of love and happiness.

Dagomarus walked around the end of the bed and stood over her, looking down into her eyes. He gently licked the tears from her face, and she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his loving tongue. He drew in her tears, wanting to have every ounce of her love in all its forms.

He slid his tongue over her eyelids and relished the feel of her soft eyelashes. The small hollow just between her eye and cheek that formed along the bridge of her nose was one of his favorite spots. The skin was extraordinarily soft there, with the slight taste of her tears. He lavished those spots with the soft rolling end of his tongue. He felt more than heard her soft hum of contentment through that connection of their bodies. He rumbled his contentment back to her, letting her know that he felt the same way.

You are everything to me now, My Love. I know we can never stand before the clergy and announce our love for each other for all to see. I would consider it an honor and my fondest wish if you would consent to being my wife, my consort, and my alpha female.

"OH!"

The statement from him took her breath away. She could feel him back away from her mind, sealing the connection. At first she thought he was just giving her some privacy to consider his request, but just before the connection was gone, she had been able to sense something deeper, more raw; it had been fear. She knew he was afraid that she would reject him, and break his heart.

Her first reaction was to say YES! However, she remembered what he had said before asking that wonderful question. They wouldn't be able to 'get married' in the normal sense of the word. She wouldn't be able to run down the street screaming at the top of her lungs that she was madly in love with him and that she was his wife.

She would never be able to sit around the break table at work and tell her friends that she had had the greatest sex in the world and that her 'husband' was the best lover this world had ever seen. Nope, she would never have that with Dagomarus, and it made her sad, because deep in her heart she wanted to do all those things and more.

She was weeping, tears leaking out of her eyes. Her chest heaved and her soft sobs echoed off the walls, she felt so sad. Dagomarus didn't know what she was thinking; he had sealed that connection so he wouldn't be tempted to listen in on her most intimate thoughts. He wanted her to be aware that there would be no manipulation on his part for her to agree.

This had to be her decision and hers alone; he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he thought for one second her answer was coerced in any way. When her tears resumed, he thought that they were tears of joy, just as before. But when she started sobbing and he saw that look of complete sadness on her face, his heart felt crushed.

He had never wanted to hurt her. He would rather die than live with the guilt that he had caused her pain. He couldn't take it any longer, the sounds of her sobbing on that bed cut through him with a fierceness he had never felt before; worse than any bullet or blade.

He backed away from her, taking one last look at her body lying out in front of him; memorizing every hair, every pore, and breathing deep he took in her scent one last time. He vaulted over the bed and was out the door in a flash. He swiveled around the doorframe and shot down the hallway. He got to the back door and grabbed the doorknob in his mouth and turned it. He nosed the door open and swept into the back yard. He glanced back at her house once and then launched himself over the fence.

He put every fiber of his anger and sadness into his speed. He headed for the hills and the mountains beyond. If anyone had been looking, all they would have seen is a gray blur out of the corner of their eye. Those few, who did see it, just put it down to a trick of their imagination. He was gone so fast no real image of his form registered in their minds.

He was out into the rolling hills along the Teton River within seconds. He was angry with himself for assuming she would want that with him. They had professed their love for each other, played their game of Master and Mistress, even though he didn't think of it as a game. He couldn't believe he had been so blind to her pain. He was a wolf, not human. VAE! I am such a fool! Why did I ever leave these mountains for her? Simple. I love her.

He was running so fast that the wind was howling in his ears; he never heard her scream out his name. She stood naked in her back yard in the starlight, screaming his name, calling him back. She was sobbing so hard she couldn't see.

After the third time of calling his name and he didn't come back, she dropped to her knees in the grass, her arms dangling at her sides. She could feel the cool night air on her skin and the contrast of the cold freeze hitting her superheated skin sent her into uncontrollable shudders. She was vaguely aware that her nearest neighbors had turned on their yard lights, but she didn't care.

Her heart felt torn, like it had been ripped from her chest, leaving her empty and cold. She cried for him, cried for her, and cried for the love they shared. She felt so terrible about crying like that after his proposal; she knew he had misunderstood her sadness. She knew he had thought she was going to tell him no, and before that rejection could be voiced, he had left her.

She was angry with herself for even hesitating to give her affirmative answer to his proposal. She was angry with him for assuming to know her answer before she gave it. She understood why he had severed that mental link between them, but even though that decision had led to a faulty assumption on his part, she realized that she would have to live with it. She couldn't stop crying, the anguish and hurt just kept rolling over her. She let go and just wept; her body crumpled and she fell onto her side. She lay there in the cold grass, curled up in a fetal ball, and let the tears fall.

She woke up some time later, freezing cold and shivering. Her teeth were chattering, and she felt stiff from lying on the cold ground. She slowly pulled herself up and looked around, no sign of Dagomarus. She started crying again, soft tears of pain rolling down her cheeks.

She gathered her strength and stood up. With her legs wobbly and her back stiff, she went back inside the empty house. It was completely silent; the sound of nothingness had never been so loud to her before. She stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the hot water to fill the tub. She eased herself into the tub, wincing from the stiffness of her muscles and the heat from the water.

She adjusted the temperature so she wouldn't burn herself, but she kept it as hot as she could stand it. She could feel the icy burn as her cold body absorbed the heat from the water. She added some chamomile oil to the water to try and soothe her torn and shattered mind. Once the tub was full, she shut off the water, lay back and let the water slide up her chest.

Her tears wouldn't stop, her face hurt and her eyes burned from all the crying she had been doing. She lay there in the hot water and tried to get warm, but she couldn't. Her skin gradually warmed, but her insides remained frozen. She couldn't feel anything anymore, she had cried herself out and now there was nothing left. There was no more anger, nor sadness; she was emotionally drained and nothing could fill her back up. The water eventually cooled to the point that she felt uncomfortable, so she pulled herself out of the tub and dried off.

She slowly shuffled back to the bedroom; she didn't have the energy to lift her feet. Her scent still filled the air and she felt a small pang of sadness, but it died quickly. She shuffled over to her dresser and pulled out a nightshirt and slipped it over her head. Looking at her new big bed that she had gotten for the two of them, she again felt a small inkling of sadness. She couldn't bring herself to lie down on it, so she slumped out of the bedroom and went to the living room.

As she passed the bathroom she was startled to see herself in the mirror hanging on the door. She hardly recognized herself. Her eyes were sunken into their sockets; dark smudges underneath them. Her skin was sallow and pale; her facial muscles had slackened to where she looked like a corpse. She thought about that for a second, and agreed with the observation; I am dead inside now that he's gone.

She couldn't stand looking at herself anymore, so she slunk past the mirror and went into the living room. She went to the couch out of habit, but just before sitting down she had a mental flash of them together on it and couldn't bring herself to sit there. She turned away from the couch and shuffled over to the easy chair and fell into it.

She sat there in the chair staring at the empty couch, saw the torn corner on the side cushion and remembered how it got there. She couldn't summon the energy to feel anything about the memory of that night. She stared off out the window and thought about what her life had been like before Dagomarus.

None of her previous boyfriends had ever touched her heart like Dagomarus had. She had led a rather boring life until he had come into it, filling her life with meaning and hope. It was all so surreal, a werewolf and her. An immortal werewolf. Well, he was immortal and I'm just a scared little human girl who loved a mythical being for a short time.

Her eyes lost focus as she continued to stare out the window. She resembled one of those wax statues in the museum, no life in the face or eyes as she sat there in the easy chair.

Her father was the first man that she loved. He had been her whole life. Mom had been important, but she had been rather oppressive when it came to boyfriends and socializing. Dad had been more understanding and had been her friend as well as her father. He had listened to her on their long hikes in the woods. He had shaped her dreams and aspirations while teaching her how to survive in the woods.

His one recurring lesson was that she had to depend on herself first, and then try to find friends to help out if needed. She had loved her father dearly and the loss of him in her life had destroyed her. She missed him terribly right now.

She hadn't made many friends in school because it always seemed like everyone else had their own agenda for wanting to be associated with each other. The shallow cliques and the snooty girls had shunned her because of her attitude. She didn't date more than one or twice because the boys all seemed to want one thing from her and it wasn't friendship. Her father had understood this and had tried to tell her that most boys, and later on the men, would all be pretty much the same way. That was why she needed to be more independent and choose her friends carefully. He had convinced her that she needed to be friends with a guy first before moving on to something more physical.

Talking to her dad about sex had embarrassed her immensely, but trying to talk to her mom was worse. She went off on Casey because she had assumed that when she had asked about sex, which meant that, she was having it, and she had said some very unkind things. Implying that Casey was a slut because she had asked about going on the pill when she was 14 had pretty much cemented the rift between her mother and herself.

He father had been much more understanding and had gently asked if she was thinking about anyone special while considering this step up into adulthood. She remembered the quiet afternoon in the trees on the side of a mountain when they had their talk. He hadn't been angry or even upset, just a little sad because she was growing up and they had passed a certain point in their relationship. She had told him the reason that she had thought about going on the pill was because of the other girls all doing it and she wanted to be part of the crowd. The discussion that followed about friends and peer pressure had been a real eye opener for her. Her father had explained a piece of his youth and what trouble he had gotten into by trying to follow the crowd. After that day, she never associated with those girls ever again.

Just six months had passed after that day when her parents had been killed in a car accident. They had been traveling home from a PTA meeting that had taken place out at one of the other parent's homes in the country. A coal train had been stopped on the tracks at an unlighted crossing and they had plowed into the side of the train at over 50 miles an hour. They never had a chance.

She had been sent to live with her grandparents after that, and had further removed herself from any socializing with the kids. Her grandparents tried to raise her, but they had been too old to really be involved in keeping up with a 15 year old girl in high school. When her grandfather had passed away in the night after her 16^th birthday, she was torn up again. He had tried his best to be the father she had lost, but his age and failing health had prevented him from doing much.

Even while Casey was grieving over the loss of another loved one, her grandmother had slipped into a deep depression. Casey found herself not only taking care of her needs, but her grandmother's as well. That had only lasted two months before the depression and grief had taken its toll and her grandmother. She wasted away in sadness, and passed away in her easy chair one afternoon while Casey had been at school. Coming home to find her grandmother dead and the last of her family gone was devastating.

With the wills and the money left to her, she was able to stay out of foster care; and with the help of the family lawyer, she had become a legal adult at the age of 16. She moved back into her parent's house, which had been left to her in the will. She finished high school early and went off to a small community college.

She found that with her small talent at art, and her drive to concern herself totally with schoolwork, she finished a two-year degree in graphic design and computer technology in less than eighteen months. She only dated twice seriously while going to school. She had made friends with Chad since they both liked the outdoors. The friendship had moved into the physical realm, and she had been happy. He had taken her out and shown her how to shoot a gun and she liked it. But when her proficiency had matched, and then exceeded his own skill, jealousy and petty temper reared its ugly head and they had split up.

The second relationship had been slightly more serious, until she found out that he was sleeping around while dating her. She had been furious at him for it, but his explanation had been that they had not told each other that they were going to be exclusive. By her very nature, Casey was a monogamous person and the thought of dating someone else at the same time had never occurred to her.

After that fiasco, she had given up hope of ever finding anyone to love. She had a habit of concentrating her affection on one person at a time, devoting her entire energy on that one person. This tended to smother most people. Women didn't like her much either since she tended to do the same with them when she started a friendship.

They wanted to go out and party and bounce from one group to another, where she wanted to be with just one person at a time and not spread herself so thin. She would ignore the other girls in favor of the one friend she had came with and this gave her the reputation of being snooty or stuck up. She found herself alone more and more.

After graduation, she went back the Choteau paper because she didn't know what else to do. Steve had hired her to be their typesetter and graphics person. She found herself falling into a rut of work and home. She went into the woods to go hiking to get away from people and to remember her days with her father. She never wanted to take anyone with her; those hours in the woods were her way of being with her father again.

Now she had the memories of her time with Dagomarus and that was just one more stab of pain in her heart. Was she destined to live a life of love and loss? Was everybody else's life as screwed up as hers? No, they weren't. That was the problem; nobody she knew had to deal with her kind of loss and turmoil in their lives. She felt so alone again.

The hours slipped past unnoticed as she lost herself inside her mind. The morning sunlight streaming through the window eventually brought her out of her daze.

She looked at the clock and saw that it was still early. She thought about getting something to eat for breakfast but the thought of food made her queasy. She gathered herself and managed to pull herself out of the chair into a standing position. She wobbled a little as her legs tried to hold her up, the blood rushing back into them after being in one spot for several hours.

She walked into the kitchen and got herself a glass of water. As she stood there drinking it, she spotted the water bowl on the table. She thought about putting it in the dishwasher but stopped herself. She still had a little hope deep down inside that he would come back. Right now she couldn't bring herself to touch it, so she left it where it sat.

She finished her water and slowly walked back to the bedroom. She looked at the bed again and could still faintly smell her scent in the air. She saw the stain from herself on the bedspread, and it sparked a little anger in her. She walked over to the bed and stripped the coverlet off and walked back down the hallway to the washroom. She poured some Borax powder and soap into the washer and pushed the cover into the tub. She rotated the dial and popped the knob to set the cycle. She walked back to the bedroom and got dressed for work.

She pulled out the darkest suit she owned and put it on. She didn't bother with any makeup, she rarely wore more than lipstick and a touch of eye shadow, but this morning she just couldn't bring herself to sit in front of the mirror to put anything on. She ran a brush through her hair and since she hadn't done anything with last night it was a little unruly; so she gathered it up and twisted it into a bun. She put on some black stockings and her black pumps.

She never really consciously decided on her wardrobe this morning, just dressing by rote and habit. When she was completely dressed, she picked up her purse and keys and walked out the front door. She thought about leaving it unlocked, but decided against it. If he were going to come back, he'd be hiding in the back yard when she got home.

She drove to work on autopilot, she remembered getting into her pick-up at the house and then she was sitting in the parking lot behind the office building staring out the windshield at nothing. She shook her head and got out of the truck and walked to the back door. She wasn't the first one there that morning; Steve was standing next to the coffee maker waiting for the first pot to fill up. He turned to see who had come in this early and when he saw her he paled.