Hi, my name is Susan Anderson, but everyone calls me Red. Not for the usual reason - I don't have red hair. My hair, in truth, is a really dark brown, nearly black. They call me that because of the pretty sweater my grandmother knitted me. It's a beautiful, hooded sweater that flows down almost like a cape. My mother, jokingly, called me 'little red riding hood'. The nickname stuck, and everyone's called me Red since then. And Grandmother makes me a new coat every year. Same color, same style, just bigger the older I get. I'm fully grown now, so my sweaters stay the same size.

Anyway, my story starts with a head cold. Not mine, but my grandmother's. Father took the team to Grandmothers, as usual, early Sunday morning to transport Grandmother to church. He found her still in bed, with a minor fever. Quickly, he built her a fire and returned to let me and Mother know what had happened. Mother was in a quandary. Normally, she'd have headed right over to Grandmothers, but Mrs. Brown was also sick. Mrs. Brown normally plays the organ for church, but Mother had promised to relieve her. And Mother needed Father to drive her to church. With her poor health their was no way she could walk that far. It was obvious what needed to be done; I would walk to Grandmothers. My health was fine, and I was in good shape, what with helping with the farm chores and all.

The problem? The fastest way to go was the main road, and outsiders used that road. Everyone knew that you couldn't trust outsiders, they could be anyone. My beautiful cousin, Andrea, went walking on that road once and was accosted by a strange group of young men. Goodness knows what would have happened if her father hadn't gone looking for her. She might have been utterly ruined. Obviously Mother and Father were very uncomfortable with me going that way, so I assured them I'd cut through the woods, and wait at Grandmothers for Father to retrieve me. Still, they were uncomfortable, and warned me not to talk to strangers and to go right there. Then Mother put some of last nights stew in a basket, and I put on my sweater and headed out.

The forest was directly behind our farm. There was a small, rarely used, trail winding through it. My father kept the brush cleared for a good distance from the house, and there was a small, rarely used, trail that led into it. A few times a year Mr. Johnson, the local woodcutter, would leave bring his children, Hansel and Gretel, down that path for a visit.

Anyway, I digress. I set out, walking quickly for Grandmothers house. All too soon, I was into the thick of the woods. It kinda gave me the creeps, all the shadows moving, with goodness knows what hiding there. Several times I was given quite a start, only to discover it was an oddly shaped tree or whatnot. I'd been walking a little less than an hour, when a man stepped out of one of those shadows.

"Oh!" I gasped, my hand flying to cover my heart. But then I relaxed. It was only the reclusive Lord Devon. I wouldn't have recognized him, as he was rarely seen in the village, but several years before he'd been injured while hunting. My father found him, unconscious, at the place where our farm meets the woods. Mother and I had bound his wounds, and Father drove him back to The Manor. Several days later a deer had mysteriously found it's way to our back foor. Mother and I had spent a week curing and drying the meat, but it fed us well for quite awhile.

"Lord Devon." I said, with a smile and a curtsy.

"Miss Susan." he answered, looking oh so elegant despite his rough clothing. "What are you doing in the woods, all alone?"

I explained about my grandmother, but he didn't stop frowning at me. "Don't you know that their are wolves in this forest?" he snapped. I stepped back, rather alarmed at his tone. Lord Devon smiled then sardonically, a quick flash of teeth, and for a moment I could swear his eyes glowed yellow. Startled, I took another step backward, right into a tree. Then he stepped into a patch of sunlight and the odd glow was gone. I stared, wondering if I was losing my mind when he jumped forward, his hands reaching out for me. I squeaked, but he just reached behind me and pulled a snake from the branch next to my head. That was quite enough for any girl, and I let out a loud scream. The snake slithered away, and his hand clamped over my mouth.

"Their is no need to scream like that." he said shortly. "It's more afraid of you, than you are of it."

"I doubt that." I mumbled into his hand, although I doubt he understood. Nonetheless he rolled his eyes, and took his hand from my mouth. Obviously tired, he smothered a yawn. Then the oddest thing happened, he stopped mid-yawn and gave his hand a very audible sniff. His hand dropped from his face and he stared at me very intently. He was still standing very close to me, so he didn't have to do more than lean over to me to sniff me. I have to admit I was offended. Was he intimating that I smelled badly? But then he let out a little growl, deep in his throat, his strong hand reaching out and firmly grabbing my hair, and I went from offended to outraged at his rough handling.

"My Lord!" I protested, but he seemed to be in a world of his own. He pulled my hair until my throat was arched and put his nose to the rapid pulse beating there. I had no idea what was going on, and objected to his by trying to push him away, but ceased my struggles when he let lose an inhuman growl. Then he rubbed his rough cheek against mine, rather like a cat does when it's marking you. And suddenly, I was loose.

"Let me walk with you awhile, Miss Susan." he said, smiling in what I'm sure was meant to be a charming smile, but after the way he'd been acting it seemed rather threatening.

"That's quite all right." I said, flipping my braid back, and stepping from the tree and back onto the path. "I'll find my way on my own, thank you very much." And with that I turned my back on him and started walking. I could feel his eyes on me, but he didn't follow. At least, not to my knowledge.

To tell the truth, I don't recall much more of the trip, only that it seemed longer than normal. No matter how fast I walked, the trail just went on and on. At one point I looked up at the sky and realized that it was now noon and I'd been walking four or five hours. Exhausted, and a bit worried, I sat down on a log to take a deep breath, and eat a slice of bread I had in my apron pocket. I was nearly done when I saw gold eyes staring at me from the brush. Startled, I jumped to my feet, but they were gone. Still, I felt as if I was being watched so I set for Grandmothers house at a jog.

Call me paranoid, but no matter how fast I moved, or where I stepped, I felt eyes on me the whole way. Finally, I arrived at Grandmothers house. I have to admit, I was relieved. I had begun to worry I was lost. Images of wandering for eternity haunted my feverish mind. I started up the path for my grandmothers, and stopped halfway. Their was no smoke coming from her chimney, and my father said he'd started a fire for her. Concerned, I approached the door and knocked. Nothing. I knocked again; still nothing. Worried that my grandma had possibly fallen while I was wandering, I opened the door without invitation and let myself in. The house was dim and quiet. I walked to the back of the house, where Grandmothers room was. I could see Grandmother's form in the dark.

"Grandmother." I said politely. "I brought you some soup to eat." Utter silence from the bed. Determined, I stepped further into the room. "Grandmother, are you awake?"

The door suddenly slammed behind me, propelled by an invisible hand. I screamed, as the figure in the bed sat up, gold eyes capturing mine. "Grandmother?" I gasped, then stepped back further as the figure stood up . . . and up. Whoever it was, it wasn't my grandmother, who was small in stature, like me.

I squeaked as it loomed out of the shadows. It was Lord Devon. Of course you, the reader, probably knew what was coming, but I didn't and he gave me quite a start. My heart was racing, and I was flat out scared. I couldn't think of any good reason that Lord Devon would be in my grandmothers bed.

"Where is my grandmother?" I demanded over my hammering heart.

"Maybe I ate her." Lord Devon said, smiling evilly. Of course I know, now, that he didn't eat her, but after the day I'd been having I halfway believed him. I would have asked him another question, but his hand reached out and pulled me by the wrist to him.

"What . . . what are you doing?" I gasped.

"I find that I must smell you again." he whispered, then pulling me firmly to him he put his nose into my hair and breathed deeply. I shivered against him when he grabbed my hair to hold me still. "I had begun to think I'd never find you." he groaned, breathing me in like I was a drug.

Something in his voice tugged at me. I don't know what. He sounded so . . . thankful, hopeful, I don't know. I've always been a champion of the underdog. I guess that's why I didn't fight him as he continued to sniff me. He was obviously off his rocker, but I began to convince myself he was harmless. Of course, I also conveniently forgot that my grandmother was missing. After a moment like that, with me cradled against him, he stopped sniffing my neck and moved his mouth up toward mine. I strained away - Johny Brown had tried to kiss me after church once, and it had been flat-out nasty. All wet and slobbery. But despite my struggles, he still managed to cover my mouth with his.

His kiss was everything that Johny's wasn't. For the first time I could see why women would allow this kind of thing. Instead of slobbering, it was pleasantly moist. Instead of brute pressure, his was masterful. Wonderingly, I opened my mouth and his tongue slid in. I sighed, and closed my eyes. Dear reader, let me tell you; this man knew how to kiss. I don't know how long we stood there, learning each others tastes and textures, but suddenly my world tilted and I was being held effortlessly in his well muscled arms. Nervously, I tried to back away from the magic of his kiss, but he wouldn't allow it. Gently, he lowered me to the soft bed, and followed me down. Drugged, I let it happen, just threading my fingers through his hair to keep us attached at the lips. I didn't even notice that he was unbuttoning my dress, until the cold air hit my nipples. I gasped and pulled away.

"Lord Devon!" I protested.

"I think, under the circumstances, you can call me Wolfe." he drawled, pulling back to admire the subtle curve of my breast. Nervously, I slapped at his hands, trying to rebutton my dress, but then he ran his thumb over the pointed tip of my breast and pure sensation shoot through my body. I groaned, and weakly dropped my arms to the bed, arching up for more of that wonderful sensation. As if he could read my mind his thumb brushed over my nipple several times, before he gently pinched. A moan ripped its way out of my body. I didn't know that such pleasure existed! Wolfe smiled at that, a quick slash of white teeth, before getting serious about the business of caressing my breasts. Each hand cupped a breast, holding it up. His mouth brought its magic into play when he licked one nipple, then it's twin. I became a mindless being, so engrossed in the new sensations he was bringing me. I barely noticed, or cared when he pulled my skirts to my waist, exposing the rest of me to the cool air. I also didn't notice him unfastening his pants, because then things got better.

One long finger slipped into the heart of me, and touched me firmly. I wailed, and arched off the bed. It felt like a thousand starbursts had set off inside me. When things finally settled inside me, I collapsed limply on the bed. Wolfe just smiled and continued his sweet torment. I would never have believed it if it hadn't been happening to me, but just as quickly I was brought to that mindless place again. Restlessly I writhed on the bed, legs splayed wantonly. I didn't know the words to make him do that, again, but I knew that I needed some release from this sweet tension. But no matter how I wiggled, I couldn't get him to touch me there again.

"Please." I begged, but he ignored me, his fingers slipping teasingly over me. Then I felt a finger slide deep in me, bumping into my maidenhead. I moaned, half in pleasure and half in discomfort. Nothing had ever been inside me before. I started to say something, but was silenced by his wicked mouth as it closed over mine. Even as he distracted me with his kiss, I was still conscious of his busy fingers. Soon the discomfort faded and he slid another finger into me, and then another. I broke away from his kiss, and panted. I was so full! If only he'd touch me, I'd fly. Then his fingers were gone, and I whimpered breathlessly, my arms reaching out demandingly for him. Urgently he rose over me, slipping in between my legs. Something big and hard pressed against the spot his fingers had occupied. I looked down, and saw for the first time, a man's sex. It was a bit of a surprise. My mother had explained the mechanics of sex to me at some point, but she'd failed to mention how alarmingly big it is.

Wolfe laughed, a bit breathlessly, at my wide eyed wonder. "It's a cock, darling girl."

"My, how big your cock is." I said. I knew he wanted to put it up me, and I didn't care, I was desperate. If I didn't feel that wonderful release again, AND SOON, I was sure I would die. Almost as if he read my mind, his cock started began to sink into me, like a sword into it's scabbard. His cock was bigger than his fingers and so it was slow going. Eventually, his cock bumped into my maidenhead. Fearfully, I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew this was going to hurt. But he moved no further, just reaching a finger down and FINALLY touching me where I needed it. It only took a few strokes and I was crying out, and clutching his shoulders. I felt him press break through, but the sharp pain just seemed to make my release better, and my nails dug into his shoulder and I shuddered and moaned. When, finally, I had returned to earth, he was deep inside of me, unmoving.

Confused, I opened my eyes. Weren't we done? But he started moving inside of me, and that was wonderful, too. Every time he pushed into me he rubbed against something else wonderful and I would moan. Unbelievably, I was there again, holding him closely and meeting his every thrust. Then I released again, and this one was even better than the other two had been. I could feel my muscles clenching and unclenching, and then I felt a warm gush of something inside me. Panting, he fell on me, pushing me securely into the old mattress. He only lay there a second before jumping up and leaving the room. Shocked, I lay there, my skirts around my waist and my dress unbottoned to my navel. Had I done something wrong? But just as I was sitting up, he returned, a soft rag and bowl of water in his hands.

"Lay back down," he instructed. "You're a bloody mess." I looked down, and realized that their was blood seeping out of me and onto my petticoat. Face scarlet, I let him push me down, and then he pressed the cool rag to me. I sighed, I was so hot and sticky down there and the cool water felt sublime. Wolfe dropped to his knees and carefully cleaned me. Then I felt something else touch me. It took me several minutes to realize he was licking me! Shocked and rather titillated, I struggled to sit up.

"No! Stop!" I cried, but with a firm hand on my stomach pushed me down, and held me there. I have to admit after a moment or two I didn't struggle too hard. It was just as wonderful as everything else we'd done. "What . . . what are you doing to me?" I moaned.

Wolfe stopped a moment to look up and grin. Moisture gleamed on his face, and I blushed; knowing it came from me. "Eating you, my lovely." he drawled, then returned his face to me. Then he stopped, as if an idea had occurred to him. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, with a light lick. I blushed again, and shook my head no. "It's your pussy." he explained.

"My . . .like a cat?" I exclaimed. What a silly name to call it!

Wolfe laughed uproariously. "Let's see if I can make you purr." he drawled, returning to lick my pussy. It didn't take long, I was so sensitive, before I could care less what he called it, as long as he kept licking me. My back arched, hard nipples pointing at the sky, a swell of pleasure surging through me.

I was laying there, limply, trying to hear over the thudding of my heart when I realized it wasn't my heart I heard thudding, but the door. I gasped, my eyes flying to Wolfes. He lifted his nose to the air and sniffed, then he growled low in his thrat. His face began to take on a weird shape. It was still him, but almost wolf like. He crouched down and moved to the shadows behind the door, eyes gleaming in the dark.

"Answer the door." he growled, his voice funny. "Just remember, I'm not here."

Shakily, I nodded. Buttoning my dress as I walked, I called out, "I'm coming, I'm coming."

As soon as everything was neat, I opened the door. The woodcutter, Mr. Johnson was at the door, his gun in his arm but pointed down.

"Afternoon, Miss Red." he said, nodding his head politely. "Your father asked that I stop by and make sure you're all right. He's going to be a bit longer before he can come retrieve you."

Nervously, I smoothed my hair. "I'm quite all right, sir. I just was taking a little nap at the table when you arrived."

Mr. Johnson nodded agreeably. "Well, you make sure to lock that door behind you, Miss. Their's werewolves in these forests."

"Werewolves?" I gasped.

"Aye." Mr. Johnson said knowingly. "You have to constantly be on the watch for them. They're smart and sly. I almost got their leader . . . was it last fall?" he pondered. "Aye. Right around harvest. But he got away with only a bullet wound to the shoulder. But never fear," he added, patting the barrel of his rifle. "I'll get him."

Shocked, all I could do was nod. Last harvest was the time that we'd found Wolfe with a bullet wound in his shoulder. I don't know how, but I finished the necessary pleasantries with Mr. Johnson, then closed and locked the door. I don't know what I was locking it for, though. The werewolf was already inside.

Wolfe came out from behind the door, his face once again normal, eyes watchful.

"Are you?" I started to ask, then stopped, embarrassed.

"A werewolf?" he asked. "Yes."

I think I fainted, because the next thing I knew I was back on my grandmothers bed, and he was pressing a cold rag to my forehead. As soon as he saw I was awake, he started talking, trying to explain. Evidently only men could be werewolves, and it was passed down in families. Contrary to lore, it could not be spread like a disease. Wolfe's family had always been werewolves, or lupen as he called them, for as long as anyone could remember. They, the lupen, knew their mates by scent. Wolfe had been without a mate much longer than was considered healthy in lupen society.

"Of course, I didn't realize she wasn't just a few miles from home." he said ruefully. "It's rare for a mate to be born to a non-lupen family."

Shocked, I just lay there, trying to absorb his words. Werewolves were real, and I was his mate. Mate? As in a permanent bond? I asked, hoping for clarification, and he growled "Mine." and his eyes changing again to that amber color. Nervously, I ran a hand through his hair, soothing him. This was evidently the right thing to do, for he calmed to my touch, his eyes returning to their normal brown. "The lupen mate for life, and we do not share. You will never know another man's touch, not if he wants to live."

I continued to comb my fingers through his hair. As I calmed down, and thought more clearly, I realized this was an answer to a lot of problems. Number one being that I was here, unchaperoned with him . . . wait! My grandmother! I asked him, and he laughed. When he'd realized I was his mate he'd had a servant come and pack my grandma up and take her to the local healer. She'd thought nothing of it, because way back when she was a young woman she'd done a favor for his father. Either way, if we were to marry that would save my reputation and my families honor. Lovingly, I smiled at him.

"Yes." was all I said, but he knew what I mean. Fiercely, he kissed me, his hands framing my face.

"RED?" my father boomed out, banging on the front door firmly.