Atwood
I’m resentful at first of my bride’s reluctance to make love with me. All of my fantasies of ravaging her while she is still filthy and bloody from her little adventure, then bathing with her and making love again in the tub with soap all over her beautiful breasts, are cut short when she begins to show weakness. She wavers in her spot, seemingly dizzy, so I take her to the bath to help her relax after the long night and try to soothe the raging erection in my pants.
My wolf wants her badly, and urges me to just take her now, in the bath. “No,” I tell him in my head, to which he responds with a pained growl. “I won’t take her like this.”
But as I’m washing her, she passes out and the bath water begins to turn red with blood.
I frantically call Doctor Yang using my m
