Rhea would likely mourn the loss of those close, especially that few nice red slip that she thought so highly of since it tied her whole outfit together. And was her last one. But for now the clothes that had been shred to ribbons was barely an afterthought. She was enraptured by the speed and grace of the magnificent beast. Her clothes, which had been clinging to her in some places, now lay in tatters around her and she hadn't even felt the claws, hadn't felt so much of a tug as the clothes were torn to shreds. That couldn't be real, could it? Certainly the heat of him felt real, the massive cock that had into her navel felt real. But he wasn't real yet.
her hands started to move, one outwards to curiously touch at his neck and shoulder, then press and caress, fingers combing through his course fur. The other went downwards, sliding to hold the underside of his red hot length, it felt like holding an iron rod pulled directly form a forge, the heat coming off it incredible. And she could smell him now too. A deep musk with layers of clean sweat, woodfire smoke, charcoal, and something else that she couldn't quite place, something so familiar yet so unknown to her, it made her feel safe in his grip as she stood rather dumbly between two steps, she'd been expecting to meet him at the bank of the river, but Wolfram had come to meet her in the blink of an eye.
Suddenly, she laughed, as the word for what he was bubbled to the surface of her mind. "Canis Lycanthropis. You're a werewolf." And then she stepped into him, burying her face into his neck to take in his addictive scent, her arm sliding around to hold him, and her southern hand sliding down his lenth to grab at his hips. He was hers, and he was very real.
