Wolf of War

A Patricia Briggs werewolf fanfiction

Chapter Eight:

Hunger

The awareness that he was awake didn't come to him gradually, like it usually did; it came with the sharpness of a whipcrack, and almost before he was fully awake—or fully aware that he was fully awake—the smell hit him.

It was the smell of blood.

It was thick and cloying, iron-y and coppery all at the same time, smelling like blood always did to him, but this time there was something underneath the smell of blood, like the taste of thick bitter sweetness of aspartame in a diet drink, but in his nose instead of on his tongue. And whatever it was, it made his stomach rumble in hunger.

And then his stomach woke up.

The pain ramped up, quickly, like someone turning up the volume on a stereo, becoming something approaching agony within the space of a few seconds, and he groaned, loudly, in quiet symphony to the pain he was feeling.

"He's coming around!" a voice called; it sounded like it was nearby, but not near enough for him to touch.

"Alright, leave him," a second voice sounded, and even as he was opening his eyes, he knew that it was the Marrok. As his eyes adjusted and focused on the man, they confirmed what his ears had told him.

Almost as an afterthought, he realized that he felt quite warm, and immediately after that, that his arms were itching; it wasn't until he went to scratch at them that he noticed fur…and paws. He took a few seconds for the knowledge to sink into his mind before his head jerked up for him to look at the Marrok once again.

"You'll want food to help fuel your change back to being human," the Marrok offered, and then stepped back and out of his way. Almost like a physical barrier had been removed, the smell of blood, so strong that it was almost overpowering, rushed in to fill in the space that the Marrok had occupied. Though the smell was there, the food wasn't, and it wasn't until he took a quick scan around the room that he noticed the rather large haunch of what his human side told him was a deer, appearing to have been freshly or recently butchered and brought to him. Idly, his newfound senses told him that the Marrok—and anyone else who had come into the room with him—had left, and he was alone with his…offering? his dinner? His wolf side didn't care, and before the human in him could even form the thoughts—let alone the words—to protest, or even say anything meaningful, his wolf had him up and sat atop the haunch, his teeth flashing as he rushed in to rip and tear hunks of red, still bleeding flesh, full of blood—

And it was soo good! He knew, just knew that his human side would never be interested in a completely rare steak, even one cooked rare, but his wolf—and he in his wolf form—loved, enjoyed, savored the rich, tangy coppery taste of the blood as he devoured that leg portion of cervine goodness. He almost couldn't stop eating it, once he'd begun; a part of him attributed that to the needs of his new body, the hunger that was an integral part of the magic that had remade him into the wolf he was now.

It didn't take him a terribly long time to finish that haunch of deer, and while his wolf wanted to gnaw at the left over bone, he managed to pull his wolf away from the task.

The Marrok seemed to sense this, as he returned to the room just as he was finishing sating his hunger.

"You surprise me, God of War," the Marrok spoke softly, but his words carrying an undercurrent that the wolf was paying rapt attention to. "Very few change when they are brought through to the wolf. And while I am pleased to see that you are fairing well, it is time for you to regain your human form."

The wolf wanted to struggle against what it was sensing was a command, but at the same time the wolf seemed to understand that the command was coming from a wolf more dominant than itself, and in part because the wolf still felt 'new' to itself, it consented to taking its orders from the more dominant one. The human side of him understood that it was the Marrok who was giving the command, and while the wolf might desire to struggle against that command, the Marrok was the alpha of the alpha wolves, and it was highly unlikely that he was anywhere near to being as dominant as the Marrok, as new as he was, and perhaps not even in the passage of time.

Keeping in mind what the spirit of the wolf had explained to him, he concentrated on his human form, and willed himself to change into it.

Pain exploded throughout his body, beginning at his joints and racing along his tendons and muscles, and began at tips of his paws and quickly consumed his entire body. He wanted to howl, to cry out, but the pain even interfered with his ability to breathe well enough to do that; he could feel the bones in his chest seemingly liquefying and reforming, as were the bones and musculature across his shoulders and back and throughout his hips.

Intellectually, he knew that in moments like this, that time was subjective; that didn't stop the agony from seeming to stretch into what felt like it could have been hours, though when he was finally done, naked and panting, feeling as though he'd been hit by a car and then been forced to run a 5k race without any preparation, he idly noted that it couldn't have been more than about fifteen or twenty minutes.

"And again you surprise me," the Marrok offered, drawing his attention and his very tired gaze. "Ones self control and level of dominance factor into how quickly one can change; you may be someone to keep an eye on, once you gain the necessary control." He offered the very ghost of a smile, and then reached down to offer a hand up.

He was just about to lift an arm to reach for the offered assistance, when a bit of motion just beyond the Marrok caught his attention, and almost as the view registered in his eyes, the scent of the women registered in his nose. Apparently, as the first of the prospective wolves to actually go through the Change, he supposed that they were interested in seeing to his welfare. Or something like that.

He knew what the scent of a woman was like for him, and he could smell the both of them from across the room. The fact that his nose could pick up their scent like that surprised him, though a brief moment of thought reminded him of his being able to smell the rich scent of the deer. The bigger surprise, however, was that the urge for sex began to well up inside of him, and while he wasn't bothered or embarrassed by his nudity, the sudden and almost painful erection that began to swell and thicken between his legs at the sight—and smell—of the women was embarrassing.

The embarrassment began to give way to the urge to do something about it, and the longer he breathed in their scent, the stronger that urge began to grow. He looked up at Bran, and the other man recoiled slightly.

"Leave us," he tossed over his shoulder to the women. "His wolf is very near the surface, and I believe that he might not be as in control of himself as would be healthy for you right now."

Of the women, Tamara was the first one to disappear, followed almost immediately by Diana; Penelope opted to stick around for a few seconds longer, and Ares could almost feel her gaze taking him in, and just as she was leaving, he could smell the change in her scent; it only exacerbated the urge building within him, and made his physical reaction all the more urgent.

"Change back, and let's hope that that helps," the Marrok commanded. "And if it does not, I would suggest you go for a run, to help you with finding your control and burning off the energy you want to use on those women."

Ares nodded, and despite the fatigue lying underneath the charged sensations that his arousal was giving to him, he focused his will to concentrate on changing back into his wolf.

Again, the pain tore through him, making him curl up into a ball attempting to escape from the torment, but at length, he had managed to return to his wolf form.

Despite himself, he quickly took stock of his feelings, starting by glancing down between his legs. Almost as if simply thinking about it was enough, he felt the urge to have sex, to fuck, to mate, wash through him in a wave that nearly made him nauseous, and the glance between his own legs only confirmed the fact that he was rampantly hard and wanting to do something about it.

He gave a brief, almost pitiful whine to the Marrok, who simply turned and walked out of the door. Figuring that he would need a bit of assistance to get out of the building—and that perhaps the Marrok was going to be the one to provide that assistance—he followed.

It hadn't occurred to him to wonder about where he was, not in the last few minutes, but as he slipped through the door, he realized that he was in one of the smaller guest-like rooms on the ground floor of the main house; the Marrok was heading towards the kitchen and presumably towards the door leading outside, and Ares followed him, intent on going on that run.

Another wolf—a wolf in wolf's form, that is—awaited by the back door as well, though Ares gave the other wolf very little thought. His own thoughts were nearly consumed with need, though a portion of those thoughts was beginning to feel joy at the idea of being allowed to run without hindrance, being free to be the wolf for a little while. That actually helped tamp down on his other need, and for that he was grateful.

The door was opened, and he leapt down the steps to the ground below. The sensation of the hard packed earth beneath his paws was a new one—to say nothing of the concept of having paws to feel with, verses hands!—but need drove him to ignore that for the time being. The wind called to him. The mountains and the trees called to him. Nature, Mother Nature, called to him, and even as new as he was, even as dominant as the Marrok was, She could not be denied; he could not resist her, at the moment, for anything in the world.

All the scents and smells of the outdoors seem to hit him all at once, and if not for that need that raced through his veins and made his fur feel like it was beginning to stand on its ends, they might have stopped him in his tracks. But the need surged through him, and he decided that he'd deal with the overwhelming possibilities of all those different smells, later. Right now, he needed to run, he needed to burn off some energy, he needed to do something, or else he was going to lose control of himself. While he was wearing the body of the wolf, for the time being he, Ares the human, was still in some measure of control- that is to say, the wolf hadn't taken over so much that he couldn't influence what the wolf did—and he wanted to keep things that way. Or keep them that way for as long as possible; he could feel that control slipping, but he also allowed for the fact that he was still new at being a wolf—a werewolf—and that it would take time before he could truly control the wolf.

And while he would be damned if he would simply give up without a fight, right now he knew—both intellectually and with the new instincts that came with being the wolf—that it was not only in his better interests to let the wolf 'drive', so to speak—while he 'navigated', to carry the bad analogy—but that maybe it would be wise to do so in the future, as well. Keeping the wolf 'caged up', as it were, might be one of the reasons why some of the newly Changed had such issues with control; they were too busy trying to exert it that they lost sight of who they had become when they merged with their wolves.

The wind shifted, and a new scent slid into his brain. The human side of him didn't immediately understand, but his wolf seemed to have an idea, as that part of him 'jerked the wheel' fully out of his grasp, and he was left mostly just watching as the wolf carried him along.

The scent seemed to get stronger, and he could feel his loins tightening; that gave him a pretty good idea of just what he was scenting, though a part of him was confused, wondering just why he would be smelling what he thought the wolf side of him was smelling, at this time of year?

Despite his confusion, the wolf lead him towards where the scent seemed to be most concentrated, practically filling the air around him. He spent a few minutes running about, zig-zagging here and there to focus in on the scent, finally zeroing in on a slightly damp, slightly warmer than the ground patch of damp ground.

The wolf in him told him what he had already deduced—that there was a female wolf nearby, alone, and in Heat- or something like it.

If he'd thought he wasn't in control before, the wolf made that abundantly clear in that moment, as he lost just about all of his influence with what the wolf was doing. The wolf led him about, following the scent trail of the female wolf; sometimes her scent would fade some, and sometimes it would be nearly overpowering for a few moments, but overall her scent was gaining in strength.

And then finally he spotted her.

She was smaller than he was; he could tell that even from the brief distance that separated them. Her coat was a bit on the rough side, but very splendidly colorful with light and dark browns, some rust and some greys, and a splash of white along her muzzle and the latter half of her tail.

She was a bit on the thin side, the wolf in him made note; she had also scented him, and was looking about for a moment just before she spotted him. She gave a bit of a growl his way, something the wolf in him took as a challenge, but not for dominance- more of a "try and take me, if you can" tone to the other wolf's vocalization.

He growled back the response challenge of his own, and sprinted towards her. The other wolf seemed to brace herself for his charge, but rather than stopping or changing his charge to spring upon her, instead he simply ran into her, bowling her over, and knocking her out of her stance. By the time she was able to get back onto her feet, he had sprung on her, and pinned her to the ground. But he only kept her pinned for the barest of moments, before he leapt off of her and put a few meters distance.

He turned to face her again, and issued his challenge growl; she responded back, but he could tell that she knew she was going to be his, and that she was just going through the motions of denying him. He stalked up to her this time, and she held still, though she would turn abruptly every time he thought to take his nose within range of her hindquarters. On one occasion he managed to get closer than previously, and she whirled to snarl at him just a bit. The wolf in him raged at that for a moment, and he cuffed her with a heavily-swung paw; he steamrolled over her once again, pinning her down on her back and growling in a more serious warning. The other wolf whimpered slightly, and then exposed her throat to him, making it clear that she would submit to him.

The need in him arose fully now, and he felt the wolf take all but the last vestiges of control from him, standing up and stalking in a slight circle around the other wolf, letting her slowly get back up onto her feet. He gave her one further growl, and she lowered her head as he moved around behind her. The wolf in him breathed in her scent, while the female moved her tail to the side to allow him free rein.

His senses felt a bit more blurred to him, then, as he found himself rearing up to take her, and then in what felt like an eyeblink he was sheathed within the tight channel of her sex, buried as deeply as he could be. Another eyeblink, and he was all but howling out his ecstatic joy at his release, and a further blink found him licking at her to clean her up…and prepare her for another round. Again and again, he found himself enduring lucid moments amidst the chaos of his all-consuming need and the wolf's overwhelming influence, and it wasn't until he felt a bit of an ache in his loins, and the sky was beginning to darken, and the need in him had been rendered quiet, that he was once again aware of the passage of time.

He lay, curled up with the other wolf, and now that he could think more clearly—now that the wolf in him had quieted down and the human in him was now more in control—he examined himself, his thoughts, and his memories.

The first thought to cross his mind was that his wolf had no shame, none whatsoever. There was no hint of regret or remorse for him having his way with the female wolf, nor even for having wrested control from him like what had happened. He wasn't completely innocent of things, either, acceding to the wolf's insistence for control when he could have actually fought, if he'd been of a desire to.

The next thought dealt with examining this need, and how it had felt; he had a few thoughts about how to deal with it in the future, if it came up, now that he knew how it felt and had a clue or two of what to keep in mind.

Finally his thoughts came around to the wolf he was curled up with, and through his memories he came to the realization that she was likely very sick, maybe even dying. The likely culprit was cancer; he thought he could recall reading about how some illnesses could have effects on the body, like tricking it to behave in false ways. That would explain both the scent of her, as well as her solitude; perhaps she had been driven out of a pack due to her sickness.