A/N: Jon knows the truth about Arya now, at least the truth she wants him to see. He has promised to send word to Ned at the Wall, and it is this promise, and fear in the Wolf King's eyes that strip away her last defenses.

THE RED HOOD

CHAPTER 7

A week ago, Arya couldn't have imagined torture as sweet as this. Before Catelyn had given her the red hood and sent Arya on her journey to the Wall, life had been little more than winter and the Long Night.

Now she belonged to the Wolf King, until the day he removed her debt. Now he was trailing kisses down the length of her body, slowly removing her clothing until Arya was bare and trembling.

Only because it's damned cold, she told herself as she bit her lower lip.

"Don't," the Wolf King snarled between her thighs. "Bite yourself again and this will be over too quickly."

Arya's breath stuttered in her chest as she sought a proper retort. But then his beard rasped against the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh and it was all she could do to clutch the furs at her back.

Warm breath ghosted over her sensitive flesh as he murmured something low, something strange; the old tongue he had used to part stone a frozen winter's night. Shivers laced her spine at the reverence behind his words—I should be worshiping you, wolf god—and her eyelids fluttered shut as his nose nudged her legs further apart before pressing between her curls. A gasping whine escaped her throat as his tongue dipped between her folds, tasting her desire.

Arya grasped the back of his head, pulling the curls free as his tongue dragged up from her center and swirled over her swollen nub. "Oh, gods…" she groaned as her thighs began to tremble in earnest.

A rumbling growl was her wolf god's answer as he slipped her thigh over his shoulder, dragging her closer to his mouth. He looked up with eyes so consumed by lust the black had consumed any traces of silver and reflected the firelight. His free hand reached past her hip bone, trailed hot against her stomach before his fingers reached a taut nipple.

A brush of his hand and Arya bucked up against his hold. "Too much," she gasped.

Jon growled low at her protest and pinched her nipple the same moment his lips latched against her clit and he began to suck.

Arya raked her fingernails over his scalp as the pull at her abdomen began to flutter and rise like a storm beneath her flesh, building and pulsing in time with the Wolf King's heartbeat.

"Jon!" she cried as her vision blurred, passing scarlet as her red cloak behind her closed lids. She shuddered and trembled with her release and he did not stop, even as she came down, unrelenting against her over-stimulated flesh. "Jon, please, it's too much," she hissed.

It was with a confusing blend of relief and disappointment when Arya's wolf god caressed her with a final lick and released her. Her gaze followed the swipe of his tongue over his lips, consuming every trace of her desire. As he crawled over her, his cock nestled warm and heavy between her thighs. Her fingers came to rest over his lips and she wondered briefly, how one kiss could have led to this.

He's made you little more than his slave, a part of her protested, still wroth with her wolf king, the god who should have been there, fighting alongside them from the beginning.

It's not like that, another traitorous voice shouted back. He hadn't known. What did she know of a god's concerns? She was no one. And still, he had chosen to save her. He was drawing his teeth gently over her fingertips with the taste of her still on his tongue because he wanted her. And he had promised to send word to Ned.

How much should I tell him?

He growled at her throat. "Stop thinking so much."

"I can't help it." She bit back a moan as he licked the scar tissue, where a blade had nearly ended it not six months ago.

"Allow me to help," he said before fitting his slightly sharp teeth over the skin and biting down.

Pain intertwined with pleasure, as his teeth sank further as his cock began to move against her slick folds, teasing her entrance but in no hurry to fill her. Arya's lips parted in a silent cry, and then she dragged her nails down Jon's back, bracing herself against too many sensations.

Pain, Ecstasy, Relief...

Her shoulder throbbed as her wolf god removed his teeth and his tongue lapped at the shallow cuts, a stark reminder of his otherness. As much as he chose to appear as a man, she knew he was magic incarnate like the old tales said. Arya should have been afraid, should have protested. Instead, she pressed her forehead into his neck and groaned, "Fuck me, Jon."

A deep rumble tore through his chest, half growl, half groan as he lifted her hips and sheathed her in a single fluid movement.

Home, came the errant thought as Arya pulled back to find Jon's desperate gaze fixed upon her. His cock was thick to the point the stretch was almost too painful, even though his fingers had been preparing her before this night, she now realized. To her surprise, Arya accepted the stretch with only a little pain, nothing like his bite at her neck. She had taken far worse in fights than the faint tear and rip he had made. So much of Arya's life had been suffering, it only seemed fair, only right, to sacrifice this much to him. For this single perfect moment, she felt full and whole, as she had never before.

Tears pricked her eyes and Jon's hunger shifted to growing horror as he caught a tear with his thumb. "Arya," he began, brokenly. The man spilling through the wolf god's skin. That same aching terror she had glimpsed before she had kissed him in an attempt to wipe his fears away.

She smiled now, cupping his face as she rocked her hips back, and then forward to meet him. Jon shuddered against her motions and grimaced. "Arya…"

"I swear to all the old gods right now, if you don't shut up and fuck me like I asked I will find a way to end you, Jon."

A brief, breathless laugh escaped his throat, quickly followed by a groan as she squeezed her thighs, pulling him closer, and then flipping them so she could ride him.

"Arya," he gasped, surprise and longing overtaking his fear.

Arya kissed him as she rocked her hips again, moaning as the head of his cock brushed that special place within her. He had teased it with his fingers before, but this was somehow better. "Yes," she hissed as his hips finally rose to meet hers. "My god, right there."

Jon's hold about her waist tightened with her praise and then his hands shifted, and then there was no more room for words or thought. Only blood and sweat and the spicy scent of the weirwood leaves burning.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘ ༓ ∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

They flew together down the mountain, powerful legs bounding through snowdrifts and over roots and rock. At the moment, she did not envy birds. For while a bird had wings, she had sharp teeth and claws. Far better suited for ripping into the others who dared threaten their territory.

Their blood flowed bitter and black, the demons who had preyed on the living. They did not hunt the dead for food, of course, she and her snow-white brother with the red eyes. She craved the sweet taste of scarlet blood and raw meat, but their last kill had satiated them, for now.

Tonight, they would hunt side by side, as it always had been. As it was meant to be.

Arya jolted awake from trouble dreams with the bitter taste of black blood in her mouth. She rolled over to retch beside the fire, but nothing came out. It had only been a nightmare, a dream of blood and monsters.

A warm hand ran over her spine and slipped about her bare waist. His lips pressed against her neck, soothing her shivers. "...so sorry," he murmured. "It's all right, Arya. You're safe, now."

"Jon?" She clutched his hand and twisted to catch his silver eyes reflecting the firelight. For a moment, a flash, his eyes were the same scarlet as the wolf brother in her dream.

Am I going mad?

His free hand came to trace her cheek as those silver eyes shifted to something deeper than concern and stronger than fear.

How do I know what he's feeling?

Arya shook her head and tried to push away the images. "It was only a dream," she growled to herself.

"A dream?" Jon dipped his chin to follow her gaze. "Arya, what did you see?" He smelled like hope beneath sorrow.

Smelled?

Her breath hitched in her chest, compounding the ache and longing Jon felt but she could not understand. "I—I don't… It doesn't matter."

Jon pulled her into his lap, cradling her smaller frame with his warmth. He felt like the stones of Winterfell, the only strength left for her to rely upon. "Dreams have a way of making us remember," he slowly began. "I first discovered what I was through dreams."

Arya shuddered but kept her nose pressed to his chest, afraid to meet his gaze. "Hard to imagine you weren't always a pompous ass."

Jon's silent laugh brushed against her cheek and he drew her nearer. "Oh, no. I was always an ass."

This brought a smile to her lips. She wished she had the courage to push aside her lingering fears, to jab at him again. Instead, she ran a hand over his bare chest, dragging her nails, and imagined they were still claws. "Did you ever dream you were a wolf, you know, before?"

His fingers clenched about her wrist as he released a ragged gasp. "Every night."

Of course, a wolf god would dream wolf dreams…

Arya shifted, torn between pulling away and leaning closer.

"Arya," he swallowed, then said, "were you a wolf in your dream?"

He knows… of course he knows, stupid. He's a god.

"It doesn't matter," she half-growled.

Jon's touch burned her. "It matters to me, Arya. I told you, dreams mean something to me." His caress forced her gaze back to his, to the pleading and that thrice-damned hope building beneath a growing determination.

"This is so stupid. Why can't you let this go?" she argued. She couldn't say why she was so angry. Anger had always been her friend, long before Rob gifted her with Snow and taught her to rise above their family's expectations. How she missed Rob, the brother she might not have lost, if only he had been there.

Arya pulled from Jon's embrace with a snarl. "Where were you? Where were you when we went to war and lost our king?"

Jon blinked. "Arya, I don't—"

"Why didn't you come?" She scrambled to her feet, flexing her hands as though she really did bare claws. "You could have saved him! Now Rob is dead."

Jon flinched as though she had struck him.

Good.

"We may all be as good as dead because you and your kind didn't come when you had the chance. How much longer do you think the North can hold out once the snow finally melts and the war with the South begins again? That's if we even survive an assault against the Others. Every year they draw closer to the castle, Jon, and every year we hope and pray to the gods for a fucking miracle..."

One of the wolves lifted its head to watch her progress while the leaves stirred in the weirwood tree. The air still smelled of their scents, of sex and blood, and the flames burning between them. She didn't realize had been pacing, nor that Jon stood naked, a faint tremor the only indication her words affected him. "I'm not all-powerful, Arya," Jon pleaded. "And most men think me as bad as the Others because of what I am!"

Arya balled her fists and rounded on the Wolf King. "That doesn't matter! No one else is coming to help us. If not you, then who? You could give the people something to believe in. Instead, you sit here behind your fucking stone walls with your wolves and your dreams and let the world die."

Jon's arms were taught at his sides, his nostrils flaring as he battled for control. She hated that he could keep his anger so tightly wound. She wanted to unravel him, let loose the same beast she felt clawing beneath her own skin.

"You want to know what I was doing while your king fell?" He spoke between quick breaths. "I was bringing the battle to them above the Wall. I gave up living as a man and yes, I didn't fucking care if the world burned or not. The world stole everything I loved from me long ago, Arya, so don't—" he closed his eyes and a tremor shook his flesh.

She couldn't breathe until his eyes opened again and the anger brewing within them was gone.

"Arya…" he whispered her name, a plea for something she couldn't understand. She hated being left in the dark, left behind.

"You're not alone, sister," the Three-Eyed-Raven whispered with a rustle of the weirwood's leaves.

Arya rubbed her arms and realized they were both still naked. She half expected to feel fur instead of skin beneath her palms and realized she wasn't angry anymore. "You're right," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't really know you, do I? I have no right to judge you."

"No." His lips pressed to her forehead, his arms suddenly engulfing her, sheltering her again. "You have every right, the only right to judge me. I was selfish, Arya. Never again."

His words spoke to something deeply hidden within her, a secret place in her heart she hadn't been aware of until now. That secret place heard his vow and made her tighten her hold around his waist until nothing but Jon filled her senses.

"I swear it," he spoke and the magic settled over them like a dark caress.

Review: If you squint, there is plot... ;) Seriously though, this was always coming, and I wanted to devote at least one chapter to this stolen moment before the storm brewing outside draws them out again. Thanks so much to all of you who have commented, subscribed and shared kudos! Your support has been the encouragement I needed. See ya at the next chapter, where there will more action. Be sure to comment if you'd like to see more naked wolf king ;) Happy reading!