Isabel's Choice

Chapter 30 - Isabel

After walking through a long corridor we are invited into Morgane's room of debauchery.

It's hard to say how large it is because the walls and the  ceiling are covered with mirrors. Owen probably enjoyed it here, he liked to watch himself. We even had one of those tall closets with mirrors on the door in our bedroom. I hated it and, when we cleaned his quarters, I made a point to personally chop it to pieces with a tiny ax.

Morgane and her tens of reflections bow to us politely. She has light green hair, almost fluorescent, braided tightly down to her linen-clad butt. She is wearing a parody of a traditional witch dress, shapeless and long-sleeved, but with a plunging neckline that barely covers her pointy nipples and a lower seam that stops shortly below her pubic bone.

„Beta, welcome. How may I tempt you today?" She asks, holding his eyes and I am jealous of her.  Not because she's presenting her skinny half-naked body to Lars, but because she has no wolf to cower in her lower belly when watched without a smile. She feels no need to bend her neck and submit to his powerful beast.

"Mmm...something along the lines of what you did for Owen and Cesar..."Lars mutters, guiding my arm around his waist.

The witch tilts his head at him: "So...hm...a strap-on for the female?"

I don't know what that is, but Lars shakes his head violently, his Thor persona dropping at his feet like a dirty shift suit.

"Noooo. No." But then he adds in his soft charming voice, which pulls the disguise back into place: "You know what, let's play a different game. The female will just watch for now."

"What am I watching, Beta Thor?" I inquire in his mind while I follow his request to sit on the edge of the plastic-covered bed.

"The opening move, with which we'll collect some ground information," he answers, turning towards Morgane.

The thing is that I don't want to watch, so my eyes chose to stare at the black carpet. Unfortunately, the stains on it are visible even in this dim light, and thinking about their origin is very disturbing. I would say more disturbing than the sight of the witch waltzing carelessly towards the male and placing her hands on his chest, fingers already working his shirt buttons.

Willow thoroughly disagrees. She would rather stare at Owen and Cesar's and Goddess knows how many other wolves' dry cum rather than at our mate, who is now gently playing with the beaded bracelets of that annoyingly cute female.

"Why sell your body, Healer? Why not your craft?" A sigh escapes his lips as she strikes his now naked abs.

"I like seeing shifter cocks more than their guts."

Her left hand trails down along his pants zipper and the Alpha moans, stilling for a second before pulling his hips away from her.

"But your...magic services are included if we end up playing roughly?"

The witch freezes again for a moment, while her eyes sparkle with interest. There is something incongruent about her stance - it's as if she hates and loves pain at the same time.

"I am entirely at your disposal, craft and all."

"Then take these off," Lars tugs at her jewelry and the female cocks her head at him in a movement so swift that her long braid audibly whips her behind.

"Why?"

"How can you heal with them?" His fingers press on the black beads, indenting the ivory white skin.

"A tad slower. Owen didn't mind," she answers and I cringe. I am sure he didn't, squeamish as he was about periods, any other kind of blood turned him on.