There's a saying I heard once.

My first thought was to try and pin her, try and stuff my cock in her. I was an Incubus, wasn't I; that was the nature of my power. The demon was my true form, and that was true.

But my name was Ikarus Vhalnich, and that was more important. The idea of simply pinning the wolf, so fearless and full of life, was nothing more than a convenient fantasy. Pure desperation without a hint of reason; that was a last resort, not a weapon to rely on.

I was the son of a merchant and so my blade was thought, my dagger memory.

And so I would pay the price for victory, and profit thereby.

The wolf struck the moment her kerchief hit the ground, leaping and drawing the axe back. She was aiming for my shoulder, and my body nearly froze in fear. Apprehension threatened to steal away my moment, my body refusing my need.

My body needed to be told.

I stepped in and raised my arm, sacrificing flesh to break bone. The axe, the tool axe, bit into my left arm and cut to the bone. I grunted, swallowing my pain, and stepped away. The axe came free and I swung my maimed arm. The blood spurted and coated her face. She danced away, rubbing at her eye.

I saw a chance, and nearly followed.

But, again, I ignored my screaming limbs and followed my will instead. I stomped down and she swung her axe; it was remarkably precise for being a blind swing, had I followed her it would have shattered my skull. I gouged my wound with my claws and threw more blood at her, putting a night of experimentation to good use.

She lunged at me, roaring and swinging the axe. I barely avoided being gutted, crimson beading on my stomach, and punched her with blood-soaked knuckles. She grinned, blood running down her lips, and kicked my leg with ridiculous ****. I went down on one knee and she lifted the axe. I thrust up and my talons met the wooden haft of her tool.

If she'd been using a battle-axe, it would never have worked. She'd have cut my arm off and that would have been that.

But it was just a tool, dulled by use, and my claws were much more than that.

The head snapped off the axe and left her holding a length of splintered wood. I relaxed for a moment, and it nearly cost me my life. She reversed the shattered haft in an instant and thrust it down towards my neck. But my blood and burgeoning effect of my fluids robbed her of speed and precision, and so I scrambled away with nothing more than a bloody scrape.

She frowned, blinking rapidly, and I chose my moment. I was getting light-headed, anemic, and I knew that I'd only have one chance. I roared, flexing my good hand, and half-circled her. She followed me with her ears and eye, and I saw the moment her concentration lapsed and she fell into a daze. She froze, if only for a heartbeat, and I leapt towards her. I grabbed her face with my bloody hand and slipped my hoof behind her leg.

Then, mustering all the strength I could, I brought her down. The back of her skull struck the ground, her limbs spasming, and the length of wood went spinning away into the grass. Her eye rolled back, fluttering as she passed into unconsciousness.

I didn't have the time or energy for games, and so I let go of her face and raked back with my claws. It tore the vest from her and shredded the dress below. I covered her body with my own, my cock hard as a diamond, and placed the tip at her entrance. She was too tight to enter gently, her tiny frame seeming smaller now that she was beaten and insensate. Slowly I pushed my way into her, fighting for every inch against the immense pressure of her cunt.

She came back to consciousness with a yelp as I breached her maidenhead and drove myself as deep as I'd go; I shivered with pleasure as our life-forces connected. She looked down, disgusted, and met my gaze with hateful eyes. I thrust into her, drawing out a pained groan, and then she lunged for my throat with her wicked fangs. I stopped her with my left hand, crying out as her fangs savaged it. I thrust faster and faster, driven by hunger and need and a long abstinence.

She struggled beneath me with a terrible desperation, her hands pushing against me and her legs kicking. I gained a dozen new scratches and before I could retaliate she had changed her angle and went to bite again. Her fangs severed two fingers at the knuckle and sent me into a rage.

I grabbed her throat with both hands, one whole and the other halved, and throttled the wolf bitch as I came.