Page 54 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
KALLE
I’ve been hiking with Justice all morning, and all I can think about is last night. Oh, sure, I’m talking with him about gophers and restoration of the forest, but my mind is on the sounds of him masturbating after I did, and I don’t know what to do.
He clearly heard me. He was clearly not asleep when I was making myself hard and coming to the idea of his face. Of his body.
Then, when we woke up this morning, Justice was pressed against me, my back to his front, and I had an extremely inconvenient erection. Being with him like this, when I can’t touch him, is less than ideal.
Whatisideal is waking up next to him. I know it’s wrong. I shouldn’t want him. I should want my bride-to-be. Before I got out of the tent, I indulged in one deep breath of his hair. It smells nice. Like honeysuckle or something similarly innocent and fresh. Also, I liked how warm he was next to me. It was all I could do not to throw an arm around him and draw him closer.
When he texted his friend Daryl to check in, little flickers of jealousy ran through me like waves. I wanted to bat the phone out of his hand.
I’ve let Justice take the lead this morning. The wood nymphs can tell us if we go the wrong way. I hope. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so cut off from everything I’m familiar with.
But it’s easier to watch his ass than to look him in the eye. Now that I’ve realized I’m not so straight, he’s the sexiest person I’ve ever seen.
I sigh, and Justice turns to look at me. “You okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.” My tone sounds clipped, unfortunately. There’s no use wishing for things that won’t ever happen. Like us being anything more than whatever we are now. Friends, I guess. If he needed help, I could make sure that he was taken care of. That he was given some royal post where he would always be known for services to the prince.
When, really, I want him to service the prince in an entirely different fashion. Princes have consorts, don’t they?
I shake my head, and Martin makes a noise I don’t understand. I try to tell him I’m fine, but I don’t know how.
I will be faithful to my future wife. Perhaps I’ll figure out a way to selfishly keep Justice around as a friend when I’m married.
Or else I need to banish him far, far away. I want to both have him forever and never have him, and that’s the most confusing thing I’ve ever dealt with.
At the bottom of the hill, we reach a river with trees on either side and large boulders we have to navigate around, but we can mostly follow alongside it.
The day has turned to typical Oregon gray, with misty rain falling. Thankfully, the foliage overhead prevents us from getting too wet, although we’ve both slipped a few times in the mud.
Justice and I stop to eat the food in his pack for lunch. I could call on a wood nymph, but if we have food with us, I don’t want to impose on their hospitality. Justice has been unusually quiet for the past hour or so. I’m used to walking in silence when I’m out with Martin and Hazel (even when I’m not under a curse), but Justice tends to be chattier.
Maybe he’s just tired. I think it will be at least another night before we get to Icedonia. Maybe two.
“Ready?” I ask, once we’ve had some water and eaten.
He nods.
“There’s a good place to cross the river over there.” I point where a group of rocks form something of a bridge.
“Great.”
Hmm. Is he tired, or is there something else going on?
Hazel bounds across the rocks, and I follow, using a branch to steady myself. I turn to help Justice, but he moves nimbly as the water swirls around us in shades of blue and silver, singing in a way I love.
Martin, as usual, barrels through the middle of the river and shakes himself off on the shore. I laugh, but then come up short when I spot the large black feline standing on a huge boulder that overlooks us. The cat is about the size of a cougar, and it has flames for eyes.
“What the hell is that?” Justice whispers, his face going much paler than usual.
“It’s a firecat,” I hiss. Martin lowers his antler rack. Hazel’s fur stands on end. “We’ve been seeing more of them outside their realm.” I draw my sword.
“Why does it seem like it could cause me great bodily harm?” Justice shifts his weight, like he can’t decide whether to retreat to the other side of the river or to go forward on the path.
My breath rasps. “Because it could.”
“You said they spit fire?” Justice’s eyes are locked on it.
