Page 2 of Whisper Woods

Another breeze drifts past me, carrying the scent of whatever, whoever, has arrived. My nose twitches, trying to pinpoint the scent. I can smell the magic. It tingles in my nose, making my sinuses and mouth itch.

It’s something I’ve smelt here before. Rarely, though, and never this potently. The scent, like smoke and spice and something I can’t place has Wolf a confused mess, whimpering, and clamouring for me to find, hunt, run, hide.

There are more sounds, more movement in the trees. I keep my back to the treeline, hopefully showing whatever is there that I am neither a threat, nor threatened.

Not turning around is killing me. But also… There is a part of me that likes it. The danger. The anticipation. The hyper awareness I have prickling along my skin.

It’s watching me. I can feel it. And fuck I hope it’s some hot being watching me, because I can feel my dick hardening in the breeze. I swear the thing has a mind of its own, always making terrible decisions and getting me into trouble.

“You are not about to jump are you? That does seem like an awful waste.” Despite standing at the ready, the words make me jump. The honeyed voice wraps around me and in a heartbeat, my dick, already half hard from thedanger, is as hard as a railway spike.

Fucking hell.

I kind of don’t want to turn around and face him. Despite Wolf howling to do… anything.

The moment is perfect. Anticipation skitters along my skin. I can feel the heat of his gaze on my bare skin like a touch. Heat pools low in my stomach, diffusing through my body in a heady rush.

This feels important. The seconds drip slowly, a moment stuck in time. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know I am standing on the edge of something vital to my existence and once I turn and face the being currently eyeing my ass like a juicy peach nothing will ever be the same again.

The Woods remain silent.

Only the gentlest whisper of a breeze brushes against the nape of my neck. I take another breath, his scent filling my lungs like the most potent drug, and turn to face him.

The crunching of my bare feet on the ground is loud in the otherwise stark quiet of the morning. I try to remember to do something with my face, to smile, flirt. Gods, even talk since I’m pretty sure he asked me a question. But all I can do is stare, my mouth flapping in the breeze like the idiot everyone always takes me for.

He’s tall, not quite my height but close enough. He’s nowhere near my size, though. I can tell he’s got some muscles under that shirt, but he’s not all brawny like me. Even though there is something in his aura that makes him seem… bigger. Maybe it’s the confident way he is watching me, his dark brows furrowed ever so slightly as he catalogues every single detail of me, naked in the moonlight.

He’s hiding in the shadows of the treeline, so it takes me a moment to see the scar running through his left eyebrow, over his eye and all the way down his cheek. His left eye is noticeably damaged, a solid white mark in the shadows of his face. His hair is dark, long and loose against his square jawline.

My hand twitches at my side, wanting to touch it, to pet him, to see how it looks tangled around my fingers. It’s too dark to guess his age, but the silver streak glinting in the moon suggests he might be older than me. But I don’t care.

Drawn by the sudden need to press myself against him, to feel the roughness of his clothes against my body, I take a step forward, my feet unsteady with the pulsating desires running through me.

“Seriously, are you okay?” he asks, walking a few paces closer, head cocking to the side when I wobble, my foot rolling on a particularly jagged rock. The change in his tone—no longer spiced honey, just genuine concern—breaks the spell over me.

Mostly. I can still feel it there. Humming in my veins. I’ve never been good with impulse control, but I manage to restrain myself this time, curling my hands into fists by my side, forcing my body into a relaxed stance.

He’s still looking at me, waiting patiently for a response. Any response. Like he has all night. Or, at least, whatever is left of it.

It makes me feel… something. Like for once, thebignessinside me—the too big feelings—slides into place and everything just fits. Like standing on the cliff. Only more.

“I’m fine.” I manage to choke out the words. My voice is hoarser than I realised, my throat dry from my run and the late hour. He chuckles softly, almost inaudible over the step he takes towards me, scratching at his lightly stubbled beard. There is a flash of gold in his ear at the movement, the moonlight catching the small golden hoops lining his ears.

“Yes, you most definitely are fine. But are you okay? Are you in need of assistance or…?” His sentence hangs there, unfinished, like he’s unsure how to end it, possibly regretting the offer. He sounds reluctant, like he’d rather chew glass than help, but would if I asked. Or maybe it’s just his strangely formal way of talking. He puts an odd emphasis on his words.

I smile for real this time, realising that we are closer again. I don’t know who took the step. It could have been either one of us. He’s still out of reach, and I have a flash of a fantasy of snatching him up and running. Somewhere. Anywhere. Something about the power rolling off him, though, suggests that is a terrible idea.

Unless he’s down for it. Then maybe?

His brows knit together again in a frown, his good eye, a deep brown I can seenow up close with a strangely reptilian, long pupil, flicks back and forth between mine. His hand drops from his chin, both hands settling on his narrow hips, the dark shirt he’s wearing stretching across his chest.

“I promise, I’m okay. I just needed to think.” My words are clearer this time.

It’s his turn to take a step forward, his boots crunching on the ground, putting him in touching distance. I become extremely aware of our closeness, and my nakedness. He’s not quite close enough to be touching my dick, straining between us like a homing beacon, but he’s not far off.

“And to think, you had to stand at a cliff’s edge, in the middle of the Whisper Woods, just before dawn?”

I smile wider, feeling it tug on my cheeks. It’s the smile with the dimples, the dimples that distract from questions that poke too far.

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