Page 78 of Far From Sherwood Forest
However, this time, it’s…different.
All those doubts I’ve had about wanting to be with Robin because ofwhohe is?
Gone.
I really wanted to keep hating him, but he’s made that pretty fucking difficult. Somehow, in a way I’ll never be able to explain, he’s become the only person Idon’thate. I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him, but I don’thatehim for it anymore.
But I still meant it when I told him I have a lot of shit to figure out.
One part of that is if I can be with Robin because of whoIam. I don’t know how to be with someone in that way. I only keep hurting him. Once upon a time,allI wanted to do was hurt him. Now, I hatemyselfwhen I do.
There’s something broken in me.
The more he touches me, the more I crave his touch. I was already unraveling from our kiss, and if I had let him keep touching me, I would’ve shattered.
If I’m not careful, the little thief is going to steal my fucking heart.
Fuck. Maybe he already has.
That day, when I went back inside my cabin, my cock was begging me to give it some relief while the memory of Robin’s touch and him screaming my name was fresh in my mind. I resisted. It wasn’t a punishment—I’m trying really fucking hard to leave that kind of shit in the past. It was more like an apology. I wanted to make it up to him for walking away so many times, and giving him pleasure while being selfless was easier than using words.
Not that it wasentirelyselfless. Drawing my name from his lips never is.
Inhaling deeply, I breathe in the fresh mountain air from my spot on one of the highest points in the park. I’ve been on patrol for the past couple of hours, driving around. Every so often, I choose one of the trails to hike. This is one of my favorites.
The trail winds along a ridge overlooking a wide stretch of forest. The mountain peaks in the distance are still snowcapped and wear streaks of it along their rugged spines, but down here, snowmelt feeds the streams that glint through the trees. Wildflowers are starting to bloom, dotting the landscape with bursts of yellow and purple. A breeze warmer than there’s been in months carries the scent of pine and thawed earth.
The sky is clear, and it’s helping to clear my head too. At least a little.
What’s more clear to me than it ever has been is…
I want Robin Hood.
I want him in every fucking way. I’m not willing to let him go, not without me. I want to claim him. I want him to bemine.And, dammit, I want to give myself to him too.
I think I’m…happywhen I’m with him—or, at least, somethinglikeit. When I’m giving him pleasure, when he’s giving me his smiles. The weight of the world on my shoulders isn’t as heavy when he’s around. Those dreams I used to have might have been trying to tell me something.
I think…I think Robin could save me.
And I think I want to let him.
After taking one last deep breath of crisp air like a hit into my lungs, I turn and start heading back down the trail.
I’m about halfway to the trailhead when something snags my wrist. I look down to see that it’s a branch sticking out from the underbrush, but when I flick my wrist away, it wraps around me like a live rope. I try to yank away, and it tightens.
Fucking witch.
I know I don’t stand a chance against magic, but I try anyway, struggling against the branch that turns into a vine right in front of my eyes. While I’m distracted with that, a second vine snakes around my other wrist. As they both start dragging me backward, I attempt to dig my heels into the ground, grunting and growling as I fight against their magic.
My back hits a tree, the vines pulling my arms against it on either side, effectively holding me hostage.
“Come out, you fucking witch!”
“I’m a Spirit, actually.”
My head snaps to the left in the direction Ivy’s voice came from. A moment later, she steps out from behind one of the other trees. She looks the exact same as she did the last time I saw her and all the times I’ve seen her before that. But just because she doesn’tlooklike a witch doesn’t mean she isn’t one.
I glare at her, my nostrils flaring. “I’ll stick with witch.”
