Page 82 of Roughing It

My ears burn, and I frown at the camera. “Um, I may not get all the details right.”

Blakely beams at me, her dazzling smile the only carrot I need.

“There once lived a village of warriors. They built their home in the foothills of the mountains and thanked the gods for granting them such a perfect place to live.”

My eyes cut to the phone. How many people are watching this? Shit. Can’t think about that.

My voice shakes, but I push on. “Because the land was so fertile, the air and water so clean, others tried to take it away.So, as a gift for their thanks and devotion, the gods granted the villagers the ability to transform with the full moon.”

“Like werewolves?”

“Yes, but more powerful and dangerous. Over time, the people stopped needing to transform to access their strength. They’d become incredibly strong. So strong they rivaled the gods. The many attacks they’d fought off led to them becoming not only fierce fighters but also clever and cunning.”

I swipe my sweaty palms on my jeans before forging ahead. “As time passed, the village thrived, each generation growing stronger and smarter than the one before. At the peak of their prosperity, the elders claimed they would one day surpass the gods in strength and wisdom. Of course, this made the gods angry and jealous. The gods, afraid of being conquered, sent a plague that struck down half the village.”

Blakely’s murmured, “Oh no,” tugs a half smile to my lips.

“Despite their abilities, knowledge, and might, nothing the villagers did helped those infected. They tried every herb, every remedy. The leader’s wife was among the sick, and each day, his heart ached at her pain. He knew they couldn’t go on with so many ill and growing worse, so one chilly evening, he left. His mission: to journey to the peak of the highest mountain, where the gods lived, and do whatever was necessary to lift the curse and heal his people.”

I glance at Blakely. She’s hanging on every word, eyeing me like I’m the honey on a sea-salt croissant. Her phone is still in her hand, but she’s focused on me. Some of the tension in my stomach loosens.

Taking a deep breath, I go on. “There was no path up the mountain, and the trek was treacherous. The leader encountered fierce animals, unrelenting weather, and traps meant to keep him from reaching the peak. Finally, after days of travel, he reached the apex of the tallest mountain and the lair of thegods. They were so impressed by his devotion and drive that they made him a deal—his people’s extraordinary strength and powers in exchange for the ability to heal everyone who was sick.”

Even though I was an adult when we moved to Trail Creek, my mom made sure I knew the local legends for my future children. Something I always rolled my eyes about. But right now, with Blakely listening to me weave this tale, it’s not so farfetched to imagine whispering this to a beautiful daughter with green eyes, honey-blonde waves, and freckles on her cheeks.

“Though the leader impressed the gods, they still feared him, which is why they made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He agreed without hesitation. Without regret, he traded away his birthright—his supernatural strength. And in return, they gave him a single seed.”

“One? How’s that?—”

“Shh, let me finish.” I squeeze her thigh and leave my hand there, out of view of the camera. I may be telling this story where everyone can hear, but they aren’t stealing any more private moments from us.

“The leader ran to his village as quickly as he could and planted the seed, tending the small bush that sprang up overnight. Tirelessly, he watched it grow until it bore branches and branches of berries.”

“Did it heal them?” she asks.

“For days, they watched the berries turn a deep purple and ripen. Meanwhile, the sick faded away to almost nothing. During this time, the leader, holding his wife’s limp hand, realized they couldn’t wait any longer. Gathering as many healthy villagers as he could, he called them to harvest the berries and cook them down into a syrup to ensure they’d have enough for everyone.”

Blakely’s hand finds mine, and she laces our fingers together. I glance at the phone and power through to the end. Can’t leave my girl wanting.

“From home to home, they traveled, giving the healing syrup to those in need, until finally, he arrived at his house. His wife was all but gone, so weak she couldn’t even open her mouth to drink from the cup that held the medicine. In his desperation, he poured the syrup into his mouth and then, pressing his lips to hers, passed the power of the fruit to her through his kiss.”

“Hudson, did it heal her?”

I cut my eyes to her watery ones and give her a small smile. “Yes, impatient. It healed her, and they lived many happy years together, settling the town of Trail Creek and spreading the healing power of elderberries, too.”

“What a beautiful story,” she whispers. She leans toward me, her mouth open, ready to kiss me, the live all but forgotten.

Hating myself for not taking the kiss she’s offering, I clear my throat. “Blakely?”

“Huh?” She blinks, then blushes and scrambles to her feet, positioning her phone to capture her flushed face. “BBs, did you hear that story? Are your hearts as full as mine right now? I. Am. Swooning. What a tale! And what a plant.”

Like a loyal dog, I trot after her, watching as she zooms in on the berries and slips the glossy leaves between her fingers. She chats a little longer, then signs off. As soon as she ends the live, her legs are around my waist, and her mouth is on mine.

I almost topple over from the force but manage to keep us standing. Tightening my hands on her hips, I take control of the kiss, driving my tongue between her lips. She rocks her hips, and I have the urge to pin her to the ground and take heron a bed of fallen pine needles. But I settle for pressing her curvy body to mine and running my hands over her.

Blakely and I lose ourselves here in the forest, kissing, grinding, licking until I have to stop. I’m not hiking back to the cabin in pants soaked in cum.

When I lower her to the ground, she sways, her eyes still closed, lips bee stung and so fuckable. Fifteen more days with her is nowhere near enough.

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