Page 13 of The Wild Hunt

I take a cautious step toward him, pulling the blanket tighter around me, my mind swirling with questions. "Why are you in all my dreams?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, though the weight of my question hangs heavy between us.

His gaze doesn’t waver as he studies me, a soft, unreadable expression on his face. "Why wouldn’t I be?" he replies, his voice a low murmur, as if the very idea that I’d question it is amusing to him. Once again the lilt in his voice catches my attention, so similar to the villagers but yet somehow different.

I frown, frustration bubbling beneath my confusion. "I don’t understand. I don’t even know you.”

For a long moment, he’s silent, his eyes dark and contemplative. "What was the last dream about?"

The question catches me off guard. My mind flickers back to it, heat creeping up my face at the memory. Even now, thinking back on the way his skin felt against mine, the softness of his hair beneath my fingers, there is something lacking, as though even those memories have dulled when compared to this moment.

He steps forward then, just slightly, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as though he already knows what the previous dream was about. "Do you often find yourself in dreams that feel this real?"

I open my mouth to respond but stop, considering his question. The air around him seems to shimmer with the same energy that clings to the walls, bending the space between us. There are tendrils of those vines hanging from the ceiling and something makes me reach out to run one of my fingers against the closest one. I gasp as it moves as though alive, curling around my finger and then moving down until it moves against my palm, stroking it softly. The moment I tug against it, the vine releases me again and my wide eyes look to Cianán, to find heat in his gaze as he watches me. "No," I say slowly. "Not like this. This feels… different."

Cianán doesn’t press the topic any further. Instead, he begins to stalk forward, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. A suddenawareness creeps over me, a primal instinct flaring to life as if I’m being hunted.

Cianán circles me, and without thinking, I turn with him, keeping my front facing him and hiding my naked back. My heart races, causing me to grip the fabric tighter to my body, the sensation of vulnerability growing stronger with each of his graceful, measured steps.

The blanket twists around my ankles as I move, and I nearly trip, but before I can fall, Cianán comes to a stop directly in front of me. Up close, I can see his eyes more clearly now. The green seems brighter here than when I met him in the forest, glowing faintly, like they possess a light of their own. It’s mesmerizing, and I can’t look away.

His skin, too, shimmers faintly, as if he swallowed the light of the sun and replaced it with the cool, ethereal glow of the moon outside. Every inch of him radiates power and mystery. He’s wearing black leather pants and a long-sleeve green shirt that clings to his form. Little hints of tattoos peek out from under the neckline and along his wrists. The ink, dark and intricate, seems to move as he does, twisting like vines creeping out from beneath his clothing, as if the magic of the forest itself has marked him.

I’m not sure what part of my subconscious decided to give him tattoos, but they suit him. They look… good. More than good.

The antler pendant still hangs at his neck, but now, it too glows with a strange, dark light, as though it holds some secret I’m not yet privy to. Everything about Cianán is more vivid in this dream—more real than anything I’ve ever experienced.

He raises a hand, his fingers hovering near my cheek but not quite touching. His closeness sends a shiver through me, and my breath catches in my throat as I meet his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, something almost tender, as he murmurs, "May I touch you anywhere?"

The question is unexpected, disarming. I can feel the heat of his hand, so close yet not quite making contact. My heart pounds, and for a moment, I can’t find the words. This dream, this entire encounter, feels too real, too intimate.

No man has ever asked before, no man has ever stopped from acting as if my flesh was theirs for the taking. But the way Cianán is holding back, waiting for my word, it means more than he will ever know.

I nod, slowly, still clutching the blanket tightly against me as I wait for his skin to meet mine.

Cianán watches me closely, his eyes narrowing just slightly at my silent response. He doesn't move. Instead, he speaks again, his voice lower, more commanding but still soft. "Use your words, pretty songbird. Words have power, no matter where you are."

His statement confuses me, but there's an undeniable truth in his tone. My lips part as I breathe out, barely a whisper, "Yes, you can touch me anywhere."

His fingers finally brush against my cheek, the sensation sending a jolt of warmth through my entire body. It's gentle, a barely-there caress, but it feels like flames licking beneath my skin. His touch is slow and deliberate, like he's savoring the contact, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.

My eyes flutter shut as his hand trails down to my jawline, the pads of his fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. It’s a caress that both soothes and ignites something deeper within me, something raw and powerful. The blanket slips a little from my grip as I lose focus, but I quickly clutch it again, grounding myself in its softness.

He steps closer, his breath ghosting over my lips. "Pretty little songbird, with your soft delicate skin," he murmurs, his voice sending another shiver through me.

"Songbird?" I ask, my voice barely audible, almost afraid of the answer.

Cianán’s hand moves to cradle my face, his thumb stroking my cheek as he tilts my head up, forcing me to meet his glowing eyes. “Your song called to me, and I wonder what other sounds I can hear you make. May I continue to touch you?”

“Yes,” I breathe as his fingers cause goosebumps to rise all over my body, my nipples pebbling at just his brief graze of my skin.

“Anywhere?” He tilts his head, as if watching for my hesitancy again. But it’s gone. Somehow, I know he is safe. I’m safe.

“Anywhere,” I agree. I want to question what he means, but before I can ask anything else, his lips are on mine.

The kiss is tender at first, almost hesitant, but quickly deepens, becoming something fiercer, something that pulls me under like the tide. I find myself responding instinctively, as if I’ve known him far longer than just here and the moment in the forest. The world around us seems to shift, the air thickening with that strange energy.

When we break apart, my heart is racing, and I’m left breathless, the room spinning slightly. Cianán doesn’t move away. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine in the space between us.

“Will you sound just as pretty when you cry?” he whispers, his voice low and seductive. “When you scream?”

---