She was only beginning to show, but I loved placing my hand on that round, little belly and feeling the burgeoning life growing there. A dark thought struck me as I contemplated the curves of her hips: we’d conceived under the curse. Our honeymoon, that wolf bite, the threat of death had been an aphrodisiac, and neither of us needed the encouragement.
“Come on,” she’d teased, “before a mountain lion comes too. You can’t leave me a widow and a virgin.”
“You’re the only wild animal I’m worried about.”
She growled, but at a kiss, the lion became my lamb.
Tale Told 