Chapter 61: Sarn

For two more days I feel like shit, but I guess after three-hundred and sixty-five plus days of being inebriated it's to be expected. On the fifth day, I eat the soup Sierra brings and for the first time, the food decides to stay down. The alcohol cravings continue and the body trembles are still there, which makes me feel weaker than I probably am. So much sweat has drenched the sheets on the bed that the entire cabin is beginning to smell like raw sewage. I'm glad when my mind seems much clearer after the meal and my headache subsides.
Sierra has been as quiet as the bears when she brings my meals. Of course, she wears those outrageous outfits that make me think of wild sex. Her sweet smile tells another story, though, and her innocence keeps me from making suggestive comments. The question that keeps fluttering through my mind is why do I crave those short visits by her as much as I crave alcohol?
I take a last drink of the water and lift myself from the bed. My eyes land on the sour-smelling puke bucket, so I pick it up and take it to the bathroom. I almost upchuck the soup in my belly as I pour the contents down the toilet. I'm already naked, so I step into the large shower, turn the water as hot as it will go, and wash away days of filth. I can no longer stand the smell of me. I rest my forehead against the cold tiles and let the water clean more than my body. I'm a fool for spending each day in a bottle. Taking the edge off the guilt and sadness was no punishment at all. I must live with myself even though I hate who I am.
My legs wobble severely by the time I step from the shower, though my head is clearer still. I leave the bathroom naked and stop suddenly at the sight of Sierra making the bed. Soiled sheets lay in a pile on the floor. I'm too weary to stand, so I turn a kitchen chair around and straddle it. She goes about her task and ignores that I'm sitting here. Today's ensemble is skin-tight, black leather pants, a fitted crop top with lace at the tops of her breasts, and calf-length boots with spiked heels. She turns so her backside is to me as she tucks in the bottom covers. My cock swells as she bends at the waist and her delightful ass wiggles a bit. Even though I sound like a broken record, I ask anyway, "What are you doing here, Sierra?" Cool water drips off my hair and lands in my lap. It does nothing to cool down the stiff rod between my legs.
She finishes making the bed and finally turns my way. Her dark eyes slowly travel over my nakedness until she meets my eyes. Her voice is husky when she finally speaks, "You look much better." A soft smile with a twinkle in her eyes comes next. "You smell better too." She stares into my eyes for another moment before continuing. "You might not think so, but the two of us have a few things in common and I think we can help each other."
I can't stop the burst of laughter that escapes my lips-to be so young and naive. I appraise her sexily dressed figure and my cock swells a bit more. There is just something about her and it's more than the clothes. She is nothing like any of my brides. Maybe it's because she wasn't raised as a dragon sacrifice. I can't seem to place my finger on it and my head throbs a little when I try. Sierra is an alluring female, but I think it's her touch of innocence that attracts me. It's also the biggest reason I need to run in the opposite direction. This, whatever it is, must stop right here, right now. I leer at her in my best dragon, I-want-to-eat-you stare. "We have nothing in common. I'll fuck you if that's what you want, but it will be one time only. With almost five days sober under my belt, I'm not at my best and may not even be able to get you off. That's my offer-take it or leave it." My cock wants so badly for her to take it, though my brain doesn't want her hurt. And there is no denying I will hurt her. I always do.
Her eyes drop to my cock and her eyebrows arch in a sexy way that almost makes me come out of the chair and take what I want. Her gaze slowly lifts to mine. "I believe I'll pass, dragon." Her smile deepens and sincerity enters her eyes. "What about friends? No fucking at all, just friends."
The beating of my heart is so loud I'm surprised the walls of the cabin don't shake. People might think a dragon's bride is exclusively for sex, but that is only a small part of the bond. A dragon craves companionship. As Calista aged, sex became impossible. My love never diminished. I love her still and will until the next bride replaces her memory. This pint-sized wolf shifter wants friendship. I almost give in just because it's exactly what I need.
I stand up and walk toward her with my engorged cock wagging like a tail. She never takes her eyes from mine. I reach out and rub a silky lock of her hair between my fingers. I step closer so our bodies almost touch. I smell the sweet musk of her desire and my stomach and headache take a backseat to the need to possess her. The innocence in her eyes is all that stops me. With a heavy breath, I release her hair. At that moment, more than two-hundred pounds of ferocious wolf shifter bursts into the cabin, hits my side, and takes me to the floor.
Roland's damn teeth sink into my upper arm and his back claws shred the flesh of my thigh very close to my cock. I roll and sweep his legs from under him. He's only down for a moment, but it gives me time to leap back to my feet. My fist plants against his furry jaw and saliva flies as he shakes his head.
"That's enough," Sierra shouts, though it doesn't stop her brother from coming at me again.
I really don't want to hurt the whelp even though he's leaving his mark on me. Sierra grabs the ruff of his neck and pulls him back.
"Damn you, Roland, I can take care of myself. He's not the first man I've fucked, so stop acting like you need to protect my virtue or something."
Those words freeze my heart. Of course she isn't a virgin. In this realm, virginity isn't exactly a prized commodity. That's why I come here when I need a willing woman to fuck. Why did I think her innocent?
Roland's paw swipes the side of my head before Sierra manages to pull him completely away. I'll admit the feisty she-wolf has an amazing set of vocal cords on her as she screams at her brother, "You mind your own business. I'm of age and have the same rights as you. Take your mangy hide and get out of here, now." She kicks him in the ribs for good measure, but the angry wolf isn't leaving.
He obviously says something into her mind because a burst of laughter escapes her throat as she pulls him farther away. "No," she yells, "I'm not giving you the name of him either. I'm of age, dammit. You need to worry about your own love life and get your shit together."
Roland turns his jaws in his sister's direction and growls.