Beneath Her Skin Novels & Stories

AIDEN The shaman's eyes are eerie – a pale white that appears to have rolled back into their sockets. Her skin is remarkably smooth for a woman of her age. She might be considered attractive by some. The only indications of her advanced age are the stark gray hairs on her eyebrows, the faint stubble on her jaw, and her hair, which is an almost whitish-gray, a testament to her years. She focuses those pale, blind eyes on me as though she can see me.

The low light clung to my skin, tracing the lace of the black lingerie. It felt like a second skin, clinging, whispering promises with every breath. The panties, a mere suggestion of fabric, offered a tantalizing peek through the small keyhole cut into the crotch. My reflection stared back, a woman on the precipice, primed for a fall. Anticipation hummed in my veins, a dark, sweet melody. Anything tonight. Everything.

Being strong, I opened the door and entered. The scent gushed down on me like a waterfall. Pineapple and Bergamot filled my nostrils, depleting my air. She laid under the covers. Only her breathing chest made it look like life was underneath the comforter. I threw the comforter from her body. She curls into a fetal position from the cold air that kissed her delicate skin. She was naked. Her blonde hair sprawled over her face, displaying beaming silver streaks and her skin glowed, looking dust-like. However, over her heart……

I need to wait for her to come back to me as she has always done. Then, her eyes open up. Her eyes are black, bottomless pools. Her hands seize the bed, her pupils dilating enough that her eyes look nearly black. Her jaw falls open, and it looks like she is about to let out the loudest scream. But instead, she sucks in a deep breath, staring up at the blank ceiling. Then, her skin begins to glow. Or is that just me exaggerating? Or maybe I have been starved of her beauty. Her skin is alight, glowing, and incandescent. As beautiful as the moon.

Samantha stood in the middle of the forest, her body trembling as she gazed down at her hands. They were no longer human hands. Instead, they were covered in thick, dark fur, and ended in sharp claws. Her clothes had shredded apart, and she was naked except for a pair of shorts that barely held up against her newly formed muscular legs. The moon was full, and its glow seemed to intensify the changes she was going through. Samantha had never thought she would become a werewolf, but life had a way of surprising her.

Her hands reach the hem of her shirt and she peels it over her head. Her smooth, olive skin is outlined in perfect, muscular curves. Her breasts are spilling over the top of a thin satin bra, exposing generous cleavage. The fabric of her bra is so thin I can see the faint, dark traces of her nippes just beneath the top of the fabric. My eyes scan her body, hungry for more.

Soaks into the torn fabric barely covering her skin. The room tilts.

An unseen force seemed to prod and prod, testing the limits of her sanctuary. A whisper brushed against her ear, delicate like a feather. She didn’t hear it so much as feel it—a breath against her skin, a name tenderly spoken in the twilight of a dream. Her body reacted before her mind could comprehend, igniting a warmth deep in her chest that unfurled and spread like wildfire along her limbs. Her skin shimmered softly, a glowing halo beneath the surface, as if her very blood remembered something ancient and profound. Visions of Isla flickered into view.

The stockings went past her knees and down her calves, until he finally pulled them off her feet and tossed them onto the carpet. Her legs were exposed to the warm light. The skin on the inner thighs was fairer and thinner than elsewhere, with faint blue veins visible beneath the skin. His palm rested on the inner thigh, and the warmth of his hand spread across her skin. The goosebumps faded halfway under his touch, and the remaining ones disappeared as his fingers moved over her skin. Her skin went back from rough to smooth.