Page 207 of Evil Hearts

“Stop, please.” Her voice is rasp, as if she has not used it in days, though we spoke mere hours ago in my shelter.

I do. Her fingers tremble, and her arm shakes. Czerwony is terrified, likely from being chased through the wood by two beasts. Guilt gnaws at the part I have played in her fright, and I crouch to her level, making myself less of a threat. “Where is the wolf?”

Her arm retreats beneath the cloak, and Czerwony chuckles. “You must have frightened it away.”

“I saw it, Czerwony.” Knee walking closer, I reach out for her, glancing around the glade to be sure the wolf does not stalk usfrom beyond the stones. Their magic hums in my ears, building pressure in my skull. “Where did it go?”

“Away,” she sings. “Away and gone at the end of night. Hidden and cloaked from all in sight.”

There is a tone to her voice I do not like. A mania and panic that sends me to her side. I drape an arm around her shoulders. Czerwony tenses before melting against me, her body going liquid and dense. I sway at her sudden weight, pleased by how perfectly she fits against my side. “What do you mean, Czerwony?”

She sighs, repeating her name quietly before turning her face to look up at me. Her eyes are wide, the pupils blown out to the edges of her irides. “I do not want to scare you, Fenra.”

The thought of it. This small, ridiculous creature with a death wish in the woods, frightening me? “You do not.”

“I think I might.”

Before I can parse the meaning in those words, Czerwony rises and kisses me.

FOUR

Ifreeze at thebrush of her lips, all of me intent on the softness of her plump lips against my snout. The absurdity of her kissingme. A monster.

Yet before I can react, her arms latch around my neck, and she pulls me onto her, collapsing us both in the grass. All I can do is melt at the demand in the move and the surprising strength in her arms. Since that first questing touch in my shelter, I have been starving for this.

No. No, this has gone on for longer than a few hours. Since the first day I spotted her traipsing through my wood, she has incensed me, drawing me from my duties to follow her, seeking reasons to speak with her, see her face, and hear those teasing words. I hungered for this the moment I laid eyes on her, and now she lies beneath me.

A gift. A feast for me to devour.

The tip of her tongue flicks against my lips, and I open for her, all too aware of my teeth. Fear sparks in the back of my mind, but Czerwony navigates my fangs as easily as if she were born to this. The first sweep of her tongue fills my mouth with an indescribable taste. Painfully alive, a warm salty-sweet I immediately want more of. I drive my knee, trapped between her legs, into the grass, claws puncturing the earth as I bear down and return the kiss.

I am not skilled, I am not experienced, but I have lingered in the shadows behind the village tavern enough times to gain an idea of how this all works. The men there crowd their women, but only after a dance similar to the teasing one between Czerwony and me. They nuzzle their women’s necks and nip the skin. They cradle their cheeks and kiss them as deeply as they drink from their tankards.

I do all of that now and more. Whatever whim pops into my mind, whatever bit of flesh I wish to nip or lick, I do so, and Czerwony bares her throat to me.

She moans when I drag my fangs across pebbled flesh and brings my face back to hers for another kiss and another, drawing my tongue into her mouth. Its coarse breadth tangles with the silken stretch of hers, and stars burst behind my eyes when she licks the roof of my mouth, sucking my tongue and working her fingers into the coarsely cropped hair at my nape.

“Fenra,” she pants when I relinquish her mouth. My name has never sounded more lovely than it does in her mouth. Coarse and ragged, half-growled and colored with need. Czerwony wriggles beneath me, her thighs latching around my leg. I lave her throat, and she rocks her hips, releasing a high, tight whine. I jerk my head up at the sound, a mixture of submission and need that has a fire blazing within me.

My desire is unignorable. I want her. Pinned in the grass, latched to my arms and legs. Crying my name loud enough to frighten the monsters away.

Czerwony grinds against my thigh, the roll of her hips increasing along with the delicious sounds she makes. My gaze travels the length of her body, and only now do I recognize that she is bare beneath her cloak. A plump breast and peaked nipple peer out from the cloth, trembling as she writhes. I swallow a mouthful of saliva, refusing to drool over her like a dog, and with a shaking hand, I sweep the rest of her cloak aside.

She is so beautiful I could weep. A sweet waist tapers above sturdy hips, the soft swell of her belly bunching as she grinds. Her thighs, thick and moon-pale, grasp my leg as she steals the pleasure I am grateful to give. Instinct drives my head down to her breast, and I take her nipple between my lips, sucking gently.

The sound that flies from her throat is sheer music. Her nails drive into my back, her legs clenching tighter around my thigh, and so I do it again, adding to her pleasure until my name leaves her lips once more.

Breathy and wild, she barks it to the night sky, clinging to me as her body tremors in a come-down I can only imagine.

Just as quickly as she trembles her sigh, Czerwony is moving again. Her hands fly to my front, unbuckling my belt and tugging the laces of my stolen shirt. Her palms brush my nipples, and a foreign sensation strikes like lightning down my spine. I gasp, and Czerwony pauses, wild eyes catching mine. Her smile is lupine, and while I am distracted by the sight, she rips the cloth from my trousers. Linen tangles with my ears and flies away; she rushes upward, and warm lips press to my breast. I brace myself with one arm and snap the other around her, pinning Czerwony to my chest as pleasure overwhelms me.

My mind blanks as this wicked creature works my body. Sucking one nipple as her fingers work the other. Pinching and flicking, lightly grazing the peak with her thumb. Soon, sounds I have never before made eke out of my throat. High-pitched and needy, alerting every predator for miles around to our location.

I do not care.

All that exists is Czerwony and this bliss I have never before experienced. She drags her hand down my side, fumbling with the front of my trousers.

“Tear,” I snarl, dropping my head back. If she stops, gods and moon above, I will howl loud enough to frighten even the witch away. “Tear them.”

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