When I was a young girl I always imagined my wedding would be the happiest day of my life. I would wear my mother's wedding gown while my father walked me down the aisle, I would pledge myself mind, body and soul to the man I loved, and afterwards we would celebrate in my father's home – but I was naïve to ever think like that.

The sun is setting low, and the bonfire has already been lit. I'm barefoot, wearing a plain white cotton dress that comes down to my knees, no veil, and the flowers in my loose hair have already began to wilt. Standing off to one side, my hands neatly folded in front of me, I hunch my shoulders trying to make myself as small as possible.

Already intoxicated, the wolf-folk don't pay me attention as they dance half wild around the fire, their unearthly howls ringing out through the forest. Although they would never dare question their Alpha, they seem as opposed to the union as my own people, and I fear how long the peace will last between us.

“We need to go now.” I didn't even hear Rowan approach; he moves so quietly for such a large creature. He goes to take my hand. Instinctively, I pull away almost tripping over a jagged rock.

“Please, it won't be safe for mortal-folk once the sun goes down.” This is the most Rowan has said to me since we exchanged our vows only earlier this morning. His voice is low and gruff yet urgent.

Swallowing back any doubts I may have, I take his hand as he leads me into the forest. Rowan's grip is strong and I struggle to keep up with his brisk pace, tripping over my feet several times, but he doesn't slow down. While his back is turned to me I take a chance to have a good look at him in the gathering dusk. He has strong broad shoulder and thick muscular arms, and walks with slight stoop as if readying to drop on all fours.

Even though he's in human form I'm still surprised by how human his hand is – four fingers and a thumb, the skin cracked and rough from years of manual labour – except for the size it could easily belong to any of the men back in the village. Wrapped around my own hand I only realise how big it is in comparison, fully aware of the power he posses and how easily he could crush my bones with one squeeze.

“Where are we going?” I ask my voice catching in the back of my throat.

“Home.” I allow my spirits to rise until I realise that he means his home. Not mine.

Rowan leads me to a clearing. The sun is low but I can make out the silhouette a cottage skulking in the shadows. Instinctively, I grip Rowan's hand for comfort, as he pushes the door open.

“You'll be safe here,” he says, jostling me inside. “I've had your things brought here already. There is food in the cupboards and firewood by the hearth. Make yourself at home, but make sure you keep the windows and doors bolted. And whatever you do, do not let anyone in until I return after sunrise.”

“Where are you going?” Not that I crave my new husband's company, but I don't want to be here by myself. It's pitch-black inside the cottage, and the bare flagstones feel icy cold against my unprotected feet.

“I'll explain when I get back, but I don't have time now,” Rowan replies, glancing over his shoulder.

“But why aren't I safe? I thought once we were married I would have immunity.”

“Not until... not until the marriage is consummated. I'm sorry.”

Before I can respond, Rowan turns and bounds away. I watch him disappear into the shadows, and although it's dark I could have sworn I saw him grow a tail. A shiver runs down my spine as close and bolt the door shut.

Although I dared not go to bed last night, I must have dozed for a while, as the fire has burnt down to embers when I reopen my eyes. I still have the fire poker laid across my lap. After fumbling around in the dark last night, I managed to find some candles and matches, and lit a fire in the kitchen. I hadn't felt much like exploring then, so instead, still in my wedding dress, I sat in the rocking chair by the hearth, wrapping the blanket that had been draped over the back around me like a shawl.

I thought I was used to the howling of wolves. On a clear night, when the moon was full like last night, and the wind was blowing in the right direction, I could hear them far off when I laid in my bed back home. I found their cries chilling, unnerving even, but I still couldn't resist opening the window and listening. But they'd never been so close before. Last night it sounded as if they were just outside the cottage, their cries reverberating through the empty rooms, and at times I thought I could hear scratching at the door. Rowan needn't have worried about me letting anyone in, I wouldn't have unbolted the door for anyone.

A thin slither of sunlight shines through a crack in the shutters, and the kitchen doesn't seem so threatening in the pale light. I can see that the cottage hand been made ready for my arrival – there's even a vase of lilacs on the side. Gripping the patchwork blanket tightly round me, I lean forwards and poke the fire. Sparks fly up, and I recall Rowan's last words to me about consummating our marriage. I had heard that word before, but no one had told me what it meant... My thoughts are interrupted by a knocking at the door.

“Leda, you there? It's me.” Rowan's voice sounds so coarse and husky that I hadn't realised it was him at first. I suppose in time I will learn to recognise him, but for now he is a stranger.

Unsure what to expect, I hesitantly make my way to the entrance hall and pull back the locks. I have to stop myself from crying out as I open the door – Rowan is completely naked, his manhood hanging limp and heavy between his legs. I've never seen a naked man before, and I didn't expect him to be so big. Rowan staggers past me into the cottage, and I notice for the first time he's bleeding, his entire body covered in cuts and bruises.

“What happened?” I gasp.

“It's nothing,” he shrugs. “I'm going to pour myself a bath.” He heads towards the kitchen and pauses.

“Do you know something? This cottage faces due east, if you went out the door and ran in a straight line, you would end up at your village. A human could make it there within an hour, if they kept moving and didn't look back.” Then, without a second glance, Rowan disappears into the kitchen.

I turn towards the open door. The sunlight is streaming in, and outside I can hear the birds singing and the babbling of a stream somewhere nearby. Sounds that call to me. It would take Rowan a while to wash, and everyone knows that the wolf-folk are at their weakest after a full moon – no one would stop me if I left now.

–

“I thought you would have been half way home by now.” Rowan doesn't look up as I enter the kitchen. He's sat slumped in the tin bath by the stoked fire, the soapy water up by his chin.

“You're hurt. I've made up salve.” This time Rowan sits up to look at me. As the water sloshes about him, I can see his bare chest – broad and muscular, covered in scratches and glistening with suds. Not wanting him to see me blushing, I quickly turn away. “Besides, I made a promise, not just to you but also to my people – and yours.”

“You're either very noble, or very foolish.”

“Can't I be both?”

Rowan grunts as he reclines back in the bath and stares off into the distance, but I meant what I said, and I won't be perturbed. Kneeling down besides the tub, I reach across and pick up the wash cloth floating on the surface. Rowan grabs hold of my arm. “What do you think you're doing?” he growls.

“I told you,” I reply, easily slipping out of his grip. “You're hurt. I'm looking after you. Now lean forwards.”

Rowan does as I tell him. The bruising on his back don't look as bad as before, but he still flinches as I gently dab the cloth against the back of his neck. “What happened?”

Rowan shrugs. “It's hard to explain to human-folk.”

I bite my lip. I can see that trying to get information out of him is like trying to get blood from a stone. “Is it true that you all turn into wolves during the full moon?”

“It's more complicated than that, but yes.”

“And it's not safe for me to be around then? Even though we're married?”

“Not until the marriage is consummated.”

My hand hovers in mid-air, the water from the cloth running down my arm and into the flared sleeve of my dress. There's that word again consummated. “Couldn't we just pretend?” I ask, dabbing the cloth between his shoulder blades.

Rowan startles me by throwing his head back and letting out a guttural laugh. I grip the cloth tighter in my hand. “No, they can smell it on you. That's how they know belong to me.”

“Oh.” He may look like a man, and talk like a man, but under that facade he is still an animal, wild and savage – and now I belong to him. Only the gods know what he intends.

“But there's no need as long as you stayed locked away at night. And if anyone dares lays a finger on you I will tear every limb from their body.” I feel his muscles ripple and tense, and I don't doubt him for a moment.

“Lean back,” I say, clearing my throat.

“What?”

“Lean back. I need to bathe your front.”

“Leda – that's not a good idea. For your sake. I'm fighting all my baser instincts right now.” He tightly grip the sides of the bath as he remains hunched forwards.

“Don't worry about me” I say. Placing a hand on his chest I gently push him back. He doesn't resist as he sinks back into the tepid water.

I don't know if it's the water or if it's just the way he is, but his cuts appear to be almost healed as my gaze travels along his arms to his shoulders, and down to his chest. His breathing seems deep and steady, rippling the bath water... My gaze travels further down along his torso beneath the surface... I gasp dropping the wash cloth. His manhood that earlier had hung limp between his legs is now swollen and engorged, standing erect out of the water.

“What's the matter?” Rowan sits up splashing bathwater over the sides, soaking my dress.

I can't stop staring. My heart beats faster and my stomach is churning up inside. Despite my rising panic, I find myself strangely excited, pressing my thighs tightly together.

“What do you expect?” Rowan says looking down as he follows my line of sight. “When you're touching me all over I can't...” his voice trails off. “Wait... have you seen a naked man before?”

I don't answer. I don't know what to say. My cheeks are burning up. Any upper hand I had is gone, and all I want to do is reach out and touch him. Let my had wander along his frighteningly masculine body. But I don't.

“You do know what sex is? What it means to consummate a marriage?” He smirks.

“Of course... there's kissing...” His body is twisted towards me while his hands grip the edge of the bath as if readying himself to pounce. He's scaring me, but I can't look away – it's the same feeling when you jump into a deep pool on a hot summer's day, and in that split moment you don't if you'll ever resurface, but your senses are tingling, and you've never felt so alive. “Er... you're both naked...”

Suddenly, Rowan's lips are on mine, his massive hand cupped beneath my chin. I'm not so innocent that I've never been kissed, but never like this. Not with so much urgency and desire as if he would die without me. I kiss him almost believing I need him just as much. Wrapping my arms around his neck I pull him closer.

He scoops me up with one arm and lifts me into the bath so I'm sat straddled across his lap. I'm wet, and he's naked, his manhood pushing against my stomach. I should be afraid but I can't get enough of him. My hands run through his damp hair, and over his back, sliding over his shoulders and across his chest, while we continue kissing, our tongues entwined with one another's.

Rowan suddenly tugs at my dress. I lift my arms in the air as he pulls it up over my head, and he tosses it onto the wet floor. It's the first time a man has seen me in undergarments – I thought I would feel scared or nervous, but, instinctively, following some deep-seated primal urge that men and women have been following for thousands of years, I press myself closer up against his naked body and begin to rub myself up against him. Following my rhythm, his long, hard member slaps against me, splashing the water.

Rowan's hands are all over me. Twisted in my hair, caressing my waist, squeezing my breasts. Every touch sends a thrill down my spine and in the pit of my stomach so that I don't notice at first that his fingernails have grown into long sharp claws and are slicing through the front of my bodice. I freeze, petrified, mesmerised, as I watch the fabric slowly cutaway, revealing my naked upper body.

Rowan eyes me hungrily before biting down on my exposed breast. His teeth feel sharp as they graze my skin. Crying out, I throw my head back and tighten my arms and legs around him. My fingernails dig into his neck as Rowan's tongue laps against my hardened nipples and he rips and tears the rest of my undergarments from me.

Gripping me by the hips, Rowan lifts me up directly above his manhood, teasing it between my legs. Each brush sends a wave of ecstasy through my body, and I'm glad he's holding me as my legs begin to buckle. “Are you ready?” he asks, pressing me against him. I nod not sure what he's asking, only knowing that I can't get enough of him – his touch, his taste, his body.

Slowly, Rowan pulls me down on top of his manhood, parting my lips with the tip. I cry out, clutching the edge of the bath. I don't know what I thought, but I hadn't realised he meant to enter me like that. Excruciating, glorious, intoxicating pain floods my senses. Further and further he pushes me down him, stretching my tight little hole to its limits as he embeds his rounded head inside me. Tears begin to well in my eyes.

“Leda, I'm hurting you!” Rowan cries, retracting his claws. Before I can find the words to answer him, he pulls me off. “I'm so sorry,” he says holding me close and running his fingers through my hair.

“I'm alright,” I murmur nestling in closer to his chest. I can hear his heart beating fast and steady.

“We can take it slow.” Rowan's hand slides down my body and between my thighs. Kissing the top of my head, Rowan gently brushes his fingers along my womanhood. I'm still sore and tender there from where he had entered me, but his touch is soft and caring. And although his rough animalistic desire has been abated, I still quiver and moan beneath his touch eager for more.

While Rowan continues to caress me, he grips his erect member with his free hand and begins running it up and down. I had either been too embarrassed or too distracted to truly admire his manhood before, but now I watched entranced by his masculine beauty. His manhood is rock hard, pulsating in time with his heartbeat, and I wonder how it would feel to have it buried completely inside me. I'm sure it would split me in half and completely destroy me. A small gasp escapes my lips.

Rowan picks up the pace, working his hand up and down his shaft, as he pinches and teases my most tender spot. The air seems to sizzle and spark with unspoken anticipation around us. Pulling me closer, Rowan lets out a yell somewhere between a groan and a howl, as an explosion of white hot liquid erupts from the head of his manhood. It oozes down his shaft, coating his hand as he continues pumping it up and down, a couple of drops flicking against my bare skin.

“What was that?” I ask completely in awe. “Did we just consummate our marriage?”

Rowan laughs, not unkindly, and shakes his head. “No, but we have plenty of time for that little one.”