Page 22 of Whisper Woods

There is a glossy pink smear across his cheek, I assume from either his own makeup smudged for the night or left from whomever he’d been with prior to his stumbling into me.

He leans in closer, the sharp scent of whatever he’s been drinking tickling my nose. Pressed against my arm, he leans the entirety of his slight weight against me, his eyelids drooping.

“Wanna dance, gorgeous?” And then he’s grinding against me in something that I’m sure resembles the beat of a song. Just not the beat ofthissong.

I stare down at the bobbing gyrating head of the being rubbing himself against me—from his scent I am guessing he is a small shifter, perhaps even a rabbit—and consider, in the loud and overstimulating nightclub, if maybe the Gods are toying with me.

Either way, I have had enough of whatever… this is. And so gently I prise him from me. Surprisingly, it is not an easy task. Despite him being a tiny little thing, he is remarkably grabby. Thankfully, I manage to flag down a member of staff running around with a tower of glasses. They don’t seem particularly pleased with being tasked with the drunk prey shifter, but my new friend is more than happy to follow them elsewhere. Somewhere far away from me.

Good deed completed, I return to my post on the balcony, the place my instincts are demanding I wait for whatever answers Lughis has promised.

Beyond the premonition, my own instincts are on high alert, demanding my attentionsomewhere, too dulled by the intoxicating uncontrolled magic and scent in the air. Scanning the crowd, I try to keep my breathing even, to keep my senses from being overwhelmed.

I almost choke on my drink when I see him on the dance floor.

Seff.

Now that I can see him I don’t understand how I had seen anything else. Has he been here all night?

Standing an impressive head and shoulders above nearly all the crowd, his tanned bare skin glows under the dancing lights. He shed his shirt at some point, a fantastic choice I must say; the way the muscles on his back move as he throws his arms about above him are a work of art.

Thrilling need spikes through me as I watch him dance in the crowd. He seems to be with others.

Is he here with them?

Does it matter?

Torn between wanting to vault over the barrier between us and cutting a path to reach him, blood and inter-world relations be damned, and sinking into the anticipation of watching his magnificent body move, I finally settle on the latter.

Even with the proof in front of my eyes, I can scarcely reconcile the truth that he’s here in front of me. Right where the Gods ordered me to go.

Is it a sign? Is it a cosmic joke?

For a moment my anger flares again, just as fiery and irrational. Anger at my duties, anger that he’s here, anger that he’s allowing others to touch him. There are too many beings, too close to that delectable bare skin I have craved for countless nights.

The need to own him, mark him, devour him is almost crushing my chest. I force my body into a relaxed position, hoping to actually trick myself into following suit. But it doesn’t work. My claws sharpen against the glass in my hand as I watch others covet what I wish to possess and I take a steadying breath to reign it all back in.

I can tell the precise moment he becomes truly aware of my attention. The tensing of his shoulders, the way his spine straightens, his hands flexing by his side. Indecision clouds his aura. Is he going to run? Or is he going to hunt me down? My cock, already half hard at the sight of him, throbs at the idea. Either one.

His friends have finally noticed his withdrawal as he ceases his magnetic movements, but he doesn’t even seem to register their presence as he turns to face me.

Vylushkiva, he is still the most perfect thing I have ever seen.

Golden eyes consider me from the distance between us. Too much distance. I lick my lip, and let my eye drift over him in return, eating up every inch of golden, tanned chest, and the dusky hint of his nipples. The crowd hides the rest of him, sending a feral thread of anger through me.

His friends are yelling at him again, but he only yells something over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine.

He is going to run.

When he attempts to lose himself in the crowd, rushing towards a dark corner, I follow, pushing my way through the sea of bodies to reach him.

Heat, hunger, and lust tumble together inside me. A dangerous and heady mix, my beast-like nature battling with my more human side as my hand reaches out, capturing his shoulder, turning him to face me.

In the half a second it takes for him to turn, I fear that I’m wrong. That here, outside the Woods, he is no longermySeff. That he ran to get away, not so I would chase him. That there will be rejection in his eyes.

By the Gods, he is even more perfect than he once was. Big, and thick. Ropes of hard muscles, a delectable dusting of hair over his chest, trailing down into the waistband of his pants riding dangerously low over his hips.

A craving to see my hands wrapped around those hips once again, biting into the soft skin, guiding him as he rides my cock almost brings me to my knees.

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