Wonderland Chapter 10 Teaser No. 1

Awhile ago I got Ch10 back from my editor and to be honest, I've been procrastinating about putting it up. Not because I haven't finished looking over the edits, but because I'm not sure if I like the way the story is going. I want to finish the story or at least have the next chapters written before I submit Ch10 to Literotica, to put it simply. So, until that happens, I'm posting a few paragraphs at a time from the chapter, starting at the beginning. Here's Teaser One of Chapter 10. Enjoy!
WONDERLAND CHAPTER TEN

Thatcher watched as Saoirse wrapped fur after fur around Tempest’s lean frame, the elderly female chattering nonstop despite the early hour. Tempest just managed to nod and smile, laughing and adding her few words of input when it was necessary.

He knew she had not slept last night, as she hadn’t the night before. Already in the two days of her self-induced punishment, Tempest looked gaunt and frail; her cheekbones sharp under her thin skin, and her eyes were foggier than usual. Her lips were pressed in a thin line when she was left alone, an almost permanent furrow wedging itself between her brows.

Two days and she looked like hell. Thatcher was beginning to wonder what she would look like in a few weeks.

“Táxim-se.”

Thatcher mentally shook his head abruptly as Kynan, the ferocious but aging Herd Leader of the Lunar Kynan Herd emerged from the outdoors. He was already dressed for both battle and warmth, though he didn’t need it. Like the Drul’s, the elements did not affect the Lunar, for they were made up of earth magic. They changed and adapted as the earth did; nature’s sway incapable of affecting their needs beyond their hunger pains.

“Kynan,” Thatcher responded, holding out his arm. They embraced forearms briefly before bypassing other formalities. “Is the weather holding up?”

Kynan brushed off the ice from his coat and grinned viciously, bearing his sharp canines unintentionally at Thatcher. “If you consider snowstorm conditions perfect for a summer stroll, then it’s grand.” Thatcher smirked at Kynan’s insolent tone. Kynan had always carried the reputation for belligerence to the point of brutality. Every conversation Thatcher had with the male was only fulfilling the expectations he had of the Herd Leader.

“Awfully windy,” Kynan commented suddenly, tugging on the golden-red beard that hung in two braids off his chin. “Wind chill is in the negative.” He jerked his head in Tempest’s direction. “Might be a bit dangerous for the human.”

“What?” Tempest asked sharply, swinging her head towards them. Thatcher fought a smile. He had to give the girl credit – she had the ears of a hawk when she chose to pay attention. “I’m going,” she said firmly, swinging her eyes to Thatcher, knowing with him she would have more weight than the Luna war lord.

You’re such a pushover; his tiny little voice mocked him. She’s just a girl, a silly human, but she’s got you waxing poetic come nightfall.

If waxing poetic involved summoning the intense, sexually charged dream he and Tempest had shared weeks earlier almost every night for nearly five weeks; then yes, Thatcher was bloody Shakespeare reincarnate.

“The lady insists,” Kynan teased, drawing Thatcher back to the present. “Maybe if I tie her to one of the trees on the timber line, she’ll have a change of heart?”

“Only if you she doesn’t tie you to it first,” Thatcher quipped dryly, crossing his arms as Tempest approached. Saoirse had bundled her up nicely, so he knew she would be warm enough to not suffer hypothermia or even a sniffle.

But Thatcher could not take the risk.

++++++