Bessa

Creation Of A God

Nothing is eaten, this was not the business of killing but the business of procreation.

We eat when we get back, naked. Filling my stomach then he fills my cunt over and over again. Throughout the night, into the morning.

The hormones from my heat pushing our bodies, our minds.

His body is chiseled out, all muscles underneath the tattoos of his skin are defined.

Going to the training the next afternoon drives my Nature to the brink of her madness.

Females who have been marked as the far north but hold no mate mark are there, greeting us. On full display to him.

Paranoia descends.

A need to protect my Moon given rights too.

Canines elongate in front of all. A surging compulsion harvests a new fortitude to mark this male as my mate.

Only mine.

He turns his neck towards me, posturing down on one knee so I could walk right to him and be at eye level. So easy to sink through the skin, and leave a lasting mark on him.

"Please, " he begs.

"I can't." my spine bends in front of the gathering. "This was a mistake to come here. Did you know this would happen?"

"Yes, we knew."

"Who is we?"Already walking away from these females who are loitering their eyes on the flesh of his body. An Alpha in the middle of his mate's heat, nothing looks greater, nothing fiercer. Nothing can compete with the force of Nature his body holds.

"My mother told me how it is for a female in her heat to be around non-mated females. A drive is there to protect, to mark what's yours."

"I won't mark you."

"Bessa," he's following after me. My feet stomping the ground.

"You need to teach me to block you from my mind."

He stops...

..I stop walking, turning on him.

"If I am to have what my Lineage can produce. A Moon gifted pup. What would you do?" Chin up.

"We would need to give him to Nature, Bessa. We can't have something in this pack that is not perfect." Spitting, he steps to the side, missing the spittal that hits the bark of a tree.

The ribs of my chest pull inwards, I have to protect the pups that are not even born yet. I have to protect them from destruction and if I don't ever mark him until after all my pups are birthed from between my legs that is a sacrifice I will make for my unborn.

There is no talking after this, only fucking the way he wants.

The hormones of heat slowly wane, wean, stop completely.

There is no great gush of blood, there is no cramping this Future has clamped inside my Nest so wholly that morning sickness starts abruptly.

All weight gained is lost, all hunger is gone, all the need for the taste of food is lost on taste buds that refuse to have anything on them.

An aversion for meat makes it hard on my mate to cook for me. There are no mangos, no pomegranates, no kiwi's that I am craving to the point of crying to him on my knees. I want just a taste of these things. I dream of the juice of oranges drenching my hands and it's the Savage's fingers I'm licking while I wake up.

We have rice, while I dream of fruit.

He gets jars of jam that I eat with a spoon, strawberry, blueberry, raspberry all get emptied late at night sitting on the floor with the cupboards wide open. But they are a poor substitute for real fresh dates stuffed with nuts and honey or a platter of sliced fruit of all kinds. I'd even eat grapefruit, off the tree, picked, sliced, sugar sprinkled over the top.