FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"And Hans My Hedgehog learned he was strange, and he learned he was ugly, and he learned to be sad, and he learned the name that was given him."

-- The Storyteller

_ _

Chapter 2

On the way to La Vallen, Dodry described the summer home to Cherry, and when they arrived, she realized he had not been exaggerating. The mansion stood on the beach, complete with a pier and even a small fishing boat. It was cozy and at the same extravagant in the sunlight. An avenue of trees lined the driveway, bursting with pale pink flowers. A gate enclosed a magnificent garden, in which white statues and trickling fountains loomed among the flowers.

But the ocean. She had never seen the ocean before. And, by god, it was beautiful.

When the carriage came to a stop, Dodry helped Cherry down. She was disappointed when he took his cloak back from her, leaving her naked and shivering in the wind. His men remained behind as he escorted her up the wide ripple of white steps and in through the towering doors.

Cherry's mouth dropped open. The entrance hall was hugged either side by reaching staircases. The polished marble floor spread away before her, reflecting the towering windows like glass. Servants stood in a row, patiently waiting, their hands clasped before them. Most of the servants were women, maids in blue dresses and white aprons, the colors of their clothing as bright as the colorful array of flowers and tapestries in the hall. She recognized one male servant as the chef - his large puffy hat gave him away - and another servant was a young boy. If she had to guess, the teenager carried luggage and cleaned chimneys. Much as Odipes' assistant, he stared, mouth agape, at her breasts.

"His highness isn't here yet," Dodry told Cherry beside her. "He won't be here until much later tonight. You will wait in his chambers for him. I advise you to sleep. You will need it."

Cherry's heart skipped a beat. What did he mean by that!

Seeing Cherry's fright, the oldest of the maids came forward and took the girl's arm with a kind expression. "Come with me now, girl. We will get you all fixed up for his majesty and tonight he will not be able to restrain --"

"He wants her smell preserved," Dodry cautioned the woman. "So don't go plying her with any of your perfumes or trying to clean her sex."

The woman shook her head. "Men!"

Cherry was loath to leave Dodry, who was the only person she knew. But the woman was patient and kind. She told Cherry her name was Ainsley. She was the head maid and would look after Cherry for the duration of her stay.

They entered the prince's bedchamber, which was draped everywhere she looked in red velvet. The wide canopied bed had transparent red curtains, and the sheets were satin red. Across from the bed was an immense fireplace, and before it were two cushioned chairs, also red. An immense rug was on the smooth floor, embroidered with gold trim and woven with intricate designs.

The room was breathtaking. Cherry stood on the threshold, wishing that this grand bedchamber was hers, wishing that she could live here forever. She was a milkmaid, the daughter of a poor farmer. This was the sort of extravagance she had only ever dreamed of.

Ainsley led Cherry to the vanity and sat her in front of the mirror. Cherry looked down, not wanting to see herself naked, but the maid scolded her and told her to be happy, take pride in her beauty.

"You are a lovely girl," she said, lifting Cherry's chin as she stood behind her. She started brushing her mass of red curls, and when she had finished, she applied lipstick and rouge. She dipped her finger in a black cream on the vanity and applied it to Cherry's eyelashes. Cherry looked in the mirror and didn't recognize herself.

"Gorgeous," Ainsley whispered. "His highness loves red. And everything about you is red and flushed with life. You rest on the bed over there. He will be here in a few hours."

Cherry moaned wretchedly.

Ainsley frowned. "When you see his highness, try to be kind. Do not scream or try to run from here . . ."

Cherry stiffened. Was the curse so terrible? What sort of monster had licked her the night before? A chill went through her.

Ainsley left, and Cherry, suddenly very miserable and tired, curled up on the immense bed, and careful not to disturb her makeup, she slept with her cheek on her outstretched arm.

When Cherry awoke some hours later, the room was darker, and indeed, the glass doors that opened on the balcony were winking with stars. The doors were shut, however, and an intense warmth filled the room. Cherry slowly sat up, feeling rested and snug under the sheets: someone had covered her to the shoulder. She carefully looked around. The fire was roaring on the hearth. The coverlet started to slip down and she caught it to her breasts, stiffening as she finally noticed a figure sitting beside the fire.

It was the prince. It had to be. She could see nothing of him except for the arm that rested on the armrest . . . and a long snout. She swallowed hard. Oh, god.

"You're awake," he said in the voice she knew all too well. "Come here. Come to me."

Heart thudding, Cherry climbed from the bed and moved slowly toward the fire. Dread gripped her heart, thudding cold through her chest. She stopped just behind the prince's chair, frightened and uncertain, and he gestured for her to sit in the chair beside him. She stifled a gasp: his hand was not a hand but a claw . . . with black nails.

"Sit," he whispered.

Very stiffly, Cherry moved past him and sat in the chair at his side. Her naked flesh sank against the cushions. She stared at her fingers as she fiddled with them in her lap. She didn't want to look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her. She bit her lip and bowed her head, letting her red curls fall forward around her face.

"Beautiful, frightened thing," he whispered into the silence. "I do not envy you, having to give your first love to a beast. And I don't wish to take it. But this must be done."

He fell silent. She knew better than to speak. It had been drilled into her head from day one never to answer his majesty unless he had asked her a direct question.

"Do you know I was born this way? From dusk til dawn, I am this creature. From dawn til dusk, I am a man."

Cherry continued to stare at her lap. She knew the story. The queen, after many years of failing to produce an heir, was desperate to conceive a child and went to a sorceress for help, stating she didn't care if her baby were as ugly as a hedgehog, just so long as she got one. She finally conceived, and the child born to her was a monster. The sorceress who pranked the queen was hanged, but not without first confessing how the curse might be lifted.

"Look at me," the prince whispered. "Don't be afraid."

Cherry took a breath. She lifted her face and stiffened. He was a hedgehog. He was a hedgehog! He had the long pointed snout, the beady black eyes, and the quills - brown quills spiked down his head and neck like hair. White fur ran under his chin into his ruffled blouse, and more white fur puffed in tuffs from the cuffs of his sleeves. Even in his monstrous form, however, she could see the muscle tone of his body. His trousers were tight to his strong thighs, as were the sleeves of his blouse tight to his arms. His boots were flat on the floor and one of his claws rested on his thigh. He smoothed his claw up his thigh, and she noticed for the first time that he was aroused: a bulge had pressed up from his trousers.

The prince stared at her a long time, his liquid black eyes boring into her face. She realized that he was waiting for her to scream. But she couldn't make a sound. She couldn't move. She wanted to shudder but resisted. This was the thing that had licked her the night before, this creature. This rodent.

"Mm," said the prince thoughtfully after a time. "Mild horror and disgust. But no hysteria. You know you're the first not fall over screaming?"

Cherry lowered her eyes again. It was bizarre to see his mouth moving and words coming out. But she had to admit, he was sort of adorable. A big adorable rodent. And why should she be afraid of rodents? She fed the mice on her father's farm and refused to let him bring home a cat.

"I suppose you won't scream when you see it then," he said.

Her heart skipped a bit when she realized he meant his penis. Oh god.

"Come to me," he whispered.

Cherry tried to still her beating heart. Oh god, what was he going to do? She came quietly to him and stood over his chair, at the armrest. His claw closed on her wrist and he guided her around, until she was standing between his open thighs. She was forced to look directly at him. Standing over him as she was, she could see the great mass of quills and their fine tips. They looked sharp and dangerous. Would she survive a night with him? She tried to think if any girls had returned with injuries, but she could remember none. Delilah had been whole and unharmed - had even wanted to go back to the prince.

"Kneel," he said. His black eyes traced over her, glazed with desire.

Little breasts trembling, Cherry knelt between his thighs. The bulge rising from his trousers was right in her face. She looked past his arousal at him, at the black hedgehog snout and furry face wreathed in quills.

"You've never known a man in your pretty mouth?"

She blushed furiously, thinking of the two boys in the bath. Oh. So that was what he wanted. . . .

"No, your majesty."

"Mm," he said thoughtfully. "Good. And no hedgehogs either?"

She smiled reluctantly at the joke.

"That's it," he whispered, "smile. You should never have to fear me. You tremble like . . ." he frowned. "Stop trembling. I'll get upset and my quills will stand. And I'd rather not ruin these clothes."

Cherry took a breath and tried to stop shaking. It was obvious at glance that his shirt had no back, but the quills could still very easily tear the lower part that held it on near his waist. The quills were also very near the seat of his pants and could rip those as well.

"I'd swear," he said in amazement, "that you were more frightened of pleasing me than of my hideous face."

"It's not so hideous, your majesty," she said, surprised when the words tumbled out of her mouth.

He sounded amused, "Then what is it then? Just nerves?"

Cherry nodded furiously and her red curls tumbled everywhere.

"You," he said softly, "are beautiful. And I want you. That is enough. You are not my mistress. You are not here to service me. You simply have to worry about following my instructions. When the curse is lifted, you will be rewarded and you will go home. Just so long as the curse is lifted, it doesn't matter if you do a bad job of giving me head."

Cherry squeezed her eyes shut and blushed harder to hear that last word. Head. Head was something the girls in the village whispered and giggled of. Head was something easy girls gave behind the shed, girls who did not care about reputations or making a good match.

Cherry lifted her face in the silence that followed and a tear leaked from her eye as she looked at him and whispered, "Will it hurt?"

He frowned, and she was surprised by the sympathy and affection in his gaze. He touched her face with his gentle claw, and very carefully, so as not to smudge her makeup, he wiped her tear away. "I don't know," he whispered, "but I . . . I will take you gently. Is that enough? You can leave here if it is not. I'll send you home right now."

Cherry stared at him in disbelief. It had never occurred to her that she had a choice in any of it. The village simply gave her up, like a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter.

"My father ordered this," the prince said in answer to her silent confusion. "He wants to see the spell lifted in time for my wedding. So do I." He waited again, and she realized he was waiting for her answer.

Cherry looked at the worry in his eyes and suddenly realized she didn't want to go anywhere. Her answer was to start unbuttoning his trousers. He sat very still, watching as his hard phallus was slowly peeled free of the fabric. She stared at it. It was a hedgehog's penis, pink and shapeless as a banana, with a slightly curved tip . . . and covered in a thin veil of white fuzz. It would be very slick and soft when it went in. The smell sent a chill through her.

She glanced up at the prince, whose chest had heaved. His black eyes watched her steadily. His wide, round ears were lowered among his quills. The hairy brows pressed together in the fur on his face.

"You do not have to swallow," he told her.

She blinked at him. "Swallow what, your majesty?"

The mouth beneath his long snout spread in a slow smile, and for the first time, she caught a flash of his rodent teeth. "Oh god," he said. "You are the most innocent . . ." He cleared his throat and looked at her in amusement.

As the prince stared, it slowly dawned on Cherry. She remembered the boys in the bath, seeing the blonde boy squirting on the dark one. The prince was going to squirt on her? Was this something men always did? She looked at him again, confused.

"I'll tell you when to stop," he assured her.

Cherry looked at the penis again, which was rigid in her face and slightly glossy from the fine coating of fur. She leaned forward and slowly licked with her entire tongue. She heard the prince grunt. She paused to swallow the taste of that fur. It was soft. Incredibly so. And his penis was warm . . . and salty. She licked again, like a girl with a sweet treat. His phallus began to wobble under the hard thrust of her tongue. She heard him grunt and noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that his claws had tightened on the armrests.

Suddenly brave, Cherry rocked up higher on her knees and closed her mouth over him. He swelled at once in response. He was panting as she sucked him, deeply, slowly, her spit surging up to plaster the fur on his penis. She noticed her spit had already darkened his trousers. She choked when he got so hard, it hurt her lips.

Suddenly feeling curious and bold, she reached behind him and touched his quills. Her lashes fluttered in surprise to feel how soft they were. He instantly made a noise that was something like a yip and she paused to glance at him. His quills were starting to stand. His eyes were distressed.

"Stop," he whispered weakly, "take your mouth off . . ."

Cherry ignored him. She wanted to do what the boys in the bath had done. She wanted to know what it was like to taste him, to hear him cry out as he came. She remembered the way the blonde boy's hard penis had flinched in Dodry's hand. She wanted that to happen in her mouth. She continued to suck him, continued touching his quills, rolling her fingers carefully in their softness. God, they were like feathers.

"A-Ahh --! Mmfh . . . stop, I said," the prince moaned. He was almost begging. He snatched her hands away, and Cherry saw his claws tighten again on the armrests. There was an audible rip, accompanied by his sigh of pleasure. She choked and sputtered as it happened: his seed filled her mouth. The hot fluid rushed to fill her and she almost spit it back up. He clapped his claw on her hair and held her mouth on him, hissing, "No, you shall swallow as you so wanted. Serves you right for not listening to me."

Cherry squeezed her lashes and felt tears oozing out from the strain. The claw in her hair was hard and unforgiving. She gulped desperately and managed to get his seed down. When he let go of her, she lifted her face from his lap, and the fluids still clung to her lips. She watched as his seed dripped from her mouth to her breasts.

"The next time . . ." he panted, looking at her irritably with his rodent's eyes, "you do not respect my wishes . . . I will . . . exert my strength over you again!"

Cherry looked up at him and gasped. His clothes were tattered and his quills were standing up rigid. His claws had also gouged the armrests of the chair. He took a shaking breath and his quills went back down. He sat back in the chair - the cushions of which were also ripped behind him -- and she watched apologetically as he started picking the shreds of his very fine clothing from his furry body. She meekly began to help him.

"You've never done that before?" he asked her skeptically.

"No, your majesty," she assured him, somewhat offended.

He grunted, not looking at her but as his shredded clothing as he picked it off. Everything was destroyed, even the topmost part of the back of his trousers. The fabric on his legs still clung to him in one piece, like very long socks. As he stood to get the torn trousers off, she realized she was about to see him naked. Her heart started thudding. She could already see that his chest was muscular, his belly rippling behind the smooth coat of fur. He grumpily fought his way out of the tattered trousers and his boots, and she eagerly helped him, eying his body with a bright blush.

"To the bed," he said irritably when she handed him his boots.

Cherry glumly did as he told her. She had ruined things now. He was angry. Why didn't she listen to him when he told her to stop? Those black eyes would never look at her with warmth again . . .

Cherry lay naked on the bed, holding herself. Across the room, she could see the prince at the fire, grumbling as he picked the tatters off. With his back to her, she could see only the mass of quills that spread from his head and down his back like hair. She could not see his backside, but the back of his legs were visible. When he turned, she could see his body again, toned and tall, and the soft animal's penis that lay coated with fur against his fuzzy scrotum. He came to the bed, still grumbling as he picked the rags off.

"I'm sorry, your highness," she whispered when he had climbed in beside her.

He frowned and whispered back, "Hush."

Cherry hushed. She lay on her back, holding her breasts miserably as she watched him. He was still picking his tattered blouse from his fur and reaching behind to get the tatters out of his quills. He lay on his side, his weight on his elbow. His eyes were fixed on his own chest as he picked a bit of cloth off.

"You must take care not to upset me," he cautioned her irritably. "Or they will stand. It wasn't so much that I came. It was the fact that you blatantly disobeyed me, touching my quills and forcing something on me which I did not want . . . you forced me to come so hard . . ."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again miserably.

"Hush," he whispered, looking at her. "I never expected for you to be so mischievous. I thought you were meek and timid . . ."

Cherry went very still when his claw gently pushed her hands away. It closed on one of her breasts and massaged. She was startled by how gentle that claw was, the way the nails did not pinch her. He was careful to keep from scratching her, and she realized with a blush that he'd had much practice in the way of being careful. He leaned close and his rough tongue licked her nipple, hard and quick. Arousal flushed through her when he began to suckle, carefully and slowly. The fur of his lips tickled and tingled in a way that was at once pleasurable and alarming. It was as if he had a moustache.

Lying breathless on her back, she watched his head moving as he suckled her. She closed her eyes and trembled. She could feel her nipple rolling under the gentle flexing of his tongue. He stopped between sucking to rotate her nipples in his fingers, his hungry eyes staring as the pink flesh grew harder and longer. He looked at her.

"No one has ever. . .?"

"No," she whispered.

He nodded. "Perfect." His head bowed again, suckling her deeply. She cried out as his lips pressed deep into the mound of her breast. She wanted to touch the quills on his head. They were down now and smooth. Each one was tipped in white. After hesitating a moment, she touched them. She waited for him to protest but he did not.

She cradled his head as he suckled her hungrily, and she realized it was something he had been thinking about all along. She blushed as she realized for the first time what thoughts had gone through the minds of men who had looked at her with longing in the past. They had wanted to suck her nipples, as the prince was doing now. They had wanted to lick her sex, as the prince had that day in the dungeon. Had they wanted for her to suck them as well? Oh, what dirty things had been on the minds of men . . . No wonder her father had been so frantic to protect her virtue. No wonder.

The prince moved on to her other nipple, suckling her as carefully and wetly as before. His claw massaged the other breast, squeezing to make the nipple stand out for the moment when he would suck it again. He lifted his face and looked at her, and his black rodent eyes reflected the firelight.

"If I lick you again," he whispered, "are you going to buck this time?" He smiled.

Cherry was relieved to see that smile. She thought he was going to be cold and angry the entire time. "I'll t-try not to, your m-maj . . ." she stammered herself silent and felt like a fool.

He frowned. "Shh, calm down. Calm . . ." He leaned forward and buried a kiss in her neck.

Cherry shuddered under him, and suddenly wanting him close, she threw her arms around him. He stiffened in surprise, but she wanted more than to lie here and be used! She wanted his kisses, affection, warmth . . . She clung to him, enjoying the softness of his quills and fur, not wanting to let go.

"What is the matter?" he asked her in amazement. He pulled back to regard her in confusion.

"N-Nothing," she stammered.

He regarded her in silence a moment. "I told you that you didn't have to, that I would send you home . . ."

"No!" she said at once.

He blinked at her, astonished. When no further explanation seemed coming, he kissed her neck again. She shivered as the kisses trailed down her breasts and belly. He was going to lick her there again! She hugged her breasts and blushed when he stopped to sniff her. He pressed his black snout hard to her sex and inhaled. The air sucked hot at her soft lips and she stared at his sniffing, growing bright as an apple. They hadn't bathed her there, just as he'd ordered, and she had to wonder what was so wonderful about her scent. He pulled away and his eyes were flat with lust, warm with satisfaction. Then he inserted two fingers carefully, slowly into her sex.

Cherry stiffened. She felt her maidenhead straining against his gentle massaging. But he curled his fingers in a come hither gesture, and she melted in the sheets. Then came his tongue, lapping hard and rough, slurping, until her breasts were heaving and she could not breathe.

"Ahh . . . ahh!" she whispered, twisting against the pleasure. The throbbing was incessant, the throbbing knot of pleasure between her lips. He nestled his tongue between the lips of her sex and found it effortlessly. As his fingers continued their gentle caress, his tongue slurped where she throbbed, until the pleasure was so intense, she almost snapped her thighs shut on his head. But that would have been disastrous. She was glad when he stopped and kissed her quivering thighs.

When she opened her eyes again, he was leaning over her. His claw was braced in the pillows near her head. She could feel the tip of his rigid craving brushing against her sex, hot and covered in that glossy fur.

He frowned. "It might hurt."

"Yes," she whispered, not knowing what to say. She didn't care. She suddenly wanted it. Despite his furry, hedgehog face, she could see the human warmth beneath, she could see the man inside him. The way he looked at her, so worried and yet with such burning desire. . . . She suddenly wanted to know what the other girls in her village had known. And she wanted to know it with him. He was the first to ever make her feel so good. She felt like a woman when he touched her. She looked at him, at his concerned black eyes, and she trusted.

He looked in her eyes and he saw her trust. Very slowly, he slid himself in. She arched her back and cried out as she broke around him. Tears blinded her. He paused to let her cry, then he slid in deeper. She felt something hot ooze down her thigh and knew it was blood. He pressed again and she cried again. He leaned down and gathered her in his arms, frowning and sympathetic. Her trembling thighs clung to him as he began his slow and gentle thrusts.

He showered her neck and breasts with kisses, kissed her tears away as he whispered, "Hush . . . hush, beautiful thing . . . you are so soft and warm and tight around me . . . hot and tight . . . And so pretty, all this red hair. . ."

She looked at him and her sniffles stopped. His eyes were gentle. She kissed him. She didn't know why. He didn't either. He pulled his lips away and looked at her, amazed. But his hot rough tongue had felt good against hers. She kissed him again and this time, he kissed her back. They moaned through the kiss as his strong arms held her tight, as he moved gently inside, as her slender arms hugged the soft nest of his quills.

They had embrace for some time when he abruptly pulled out, and she watched breathlessly as he bowed his head and spilled his seed on the sheets. She was crestfallen when he let go of her, and moving to the far side of the bed, he lay with his back to her, his quills rising and falling as he panted.

She looked down at her thighs, which were smeared with blood. Her sex felt sore and broken and throbbed with pain. She squeezed her thighs together and cried a little. She looked over at him, listened to him panting. The bed was so large, he seemed a million miles away. She crawled to him. All she could think about was his hard passion inside, stroking her, touching her. She could still hear his loving whispers. Could still see his warm eyes, black as they reflected the fire.

"What are you doing?" he whispered when she drew near. He sounded tired.

She wanted to touch him, explore him. She wanted his arms around her again. She wanted his hot breath and his whispers, telling her she was beautiful. But she knew it would be foolish to ask. Perhaps he would laugh at her, tell her to get out, grow irritable again. Why should he return her feelings? She was one in a hundred girls who had tried to break his curse.

". . . majesty?" she whispered uncertainly.

"You have your own chambers. I'll send for Ainsley in a moment. She'll take you to them."

"I . . . want to sleep with you."

He looked quickly over his shoulder at her and the round ears pricked up in his quills. When she knelt over him, staring and resolute, he nodded against the pillow, but he was no less surprised by the request. She scrambled over him at once and snuggled against his hard chest. She noticed with a small smile that he had dark nipples pressing through his fur. He hesitated before putting his arm around her. She could feel him watching her in confusion.

"And . . ." he cleared his throat. "You are not perturbed by . . ."

"No," she whispered, closing her eyes as she played in his quills. "They are incredibly soft. Like feathers. So soft . . ." She felt a shiver go through him and halted, looking at him quickly.

"And sensitive," he told her pointedly. "Stop touching . . ."

She snatched her hand away, feeling foolish for her fascination. "I'm sorry, your majesty."

"I didn't mean my quills. I meant . . . I'm ugly, girl. I'm a hedgehog. And yet you snuggle against me like a teddy bear. You kiss me and cling to me as we make love . . ."

"The other girls did not, your highness?"

He snorted. "Not the first night. They usually screamed and cried. And when I made love to them, they would lie there stiff and in tears. They wouldn't even touch me. Some it took a week to have sex with me with their eyes open. But you . . ." He looked at her in amazement. "You are bizarre."

Cherry laughed sadly. He wasn't the first to find her bizarre. He would not be the last. A tear trembled on her lashes and she looked away.

"I . . . did not mean to offend . . ." the prince whispered.

She shivered happily to feel his hot breath on her ear. She looked at him, at the round black eyes and black snout. The fur on his face was downy soft, like his quills. She hesitated before touching his face. He didn't protest, just studied her quietly with his liquid black eyes.

"I'll be gone before dawn," he told her matter-o-factly.

"Why, your majesty?"

"I'll be human again. If the curse is to lift, you mustn't see me in my human form."

"Oh . . ."

"You will spend the day resting. Don't exert yourself. And don't let the maids wash your sex."

"Yes, your majesty . . ." she whispered, suddenly embarrassed when she remembered his sniffing.

"I know it's not exactly hygienic," he went on, "but a few days without washing there won't cause infection. It's just a few days. Please."

"Of course, your majesty." She felt her face getting brighter. What in the world did she smell like to him?

"They'll bring you back here after supper," he went on quietly. "And you'll wait here for me. And we'll do this again."

"For how long?" she wondered.

He sighed and something sad flickered in his eyes. She didn't understand. She thought he need only take an innocent woman's first love to lift the curse. So why must she stay here, sleeping with him each night? She was being kept in the dark. She frowned.

"For as long as I wish," he said at last.

She lowered her lashes at the cold ring in his voice. Yes. They were definitely keeping something from her.

"Do you have any requests or complaints?" he asked her. "Anything that might make your stay here more comfortable?"

Thinking of the intimate night they had just spent together, the whispers, the kisses, Cherry looked at him with large, admiring eyes. She wanted to be in his arms again, she wanted his lips on her nipples and his rough lapping hedgehog tongue between her thighs. But she blushed and couldn't bring herself to say such things. So she shook her head furiously against him and lowered her face, pressing her forehead to the warm fur of his hard chest.

She was surprised when his snout pressed into her mass of red curls, carefully sniffling. A shudder went through him again, and for a moment, she thought his quills were going to stand. He was straining to control them, she could tell, for she could see them quivering at the tips. He was terrified of ripping the sheets.

"What do I smell like to you?" she whispered, wincing at her own daring.

He stiffened at the question and she thought he sounded sheepish when he answered. "Like a woman," he said at last. "In this form I can smell things more sharply than ever. I smell the scent of every woman now. To be honest, it's slightly maddening. Yours is . . . inviting."

Cherry was glad her face was hidden in his fur. A thrill went through her when his claw smoothed up her naked back and down again.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She obeyed.

His black eyes searched her face a moment. "What is your name?"

"Cher --"

"Your real name."

She bit her lip. "Amarantha."

He swallowed and looked away. "Amarantha. That is pretty. Cherry is so . . . suggestive. I can't believe your father would call you that."

"His princess of sweetness and cherry pie," Cherry whispered. "It had everything to do with Ma-ma's pie. I would help her cook them. . . ." Her voice trailed away sadly. Ma-ma was dead now. She was glad when the prince smoothed his claw up her back again, a comforting gesture.

"What is your name, your majesty?" she whispered, realizing for the first time that she didn't know. She was certain she had heard his name a few times when she was small, but everyone usually spoke more of his father and mother, King Feidhlim Labrid IV and Queen Aelwyd Tristana.

"Prince Ronan Tiarnach Guaire."

"Prince Ronan," she repeated happily.

He watched her, amused. "Go to sleep, Amarantha."

She obeyed. She closed her eyes and was happy to feel his arms hard around her, to listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as she drifted off.