Darling?
His voice rolling across the endearment so sensually has me freezing and sinking my teeth into my lower lip. “Sorry, I did not mean to wake you, I—” I hesitate over the next words as embarrassment heats my cheeks. “I need to use the bathroom.”
He huffs what sounds like a laugh and gets to his feet and stretches, his tail swishing and fur shaking with the movement. He turns, and with a look that says follow me, he leaves the den. I slip out after him, almost crossing my legs with the urge. He trots over to a tree and looks from me to it.
Brilliant.
Not wanting to offend him, I simply slip behind the tree, and after lifting my dress, I assure myself it’s either this or nothing. When I’m finished, he leads me to a small river through the trees, close enough where I can see the den. There, I wash my hands and face before sitting and plaiting my wild hair. Wispy strands still escape it, but it’s better than nothing.
Once I am done and feel more put together, I look up to see my wolf stalking me. Watching me with bright eyes, he prowls around me. I observe, enthralled, as he easily climbs a tree and prances along the branch, leaping to the next and then the next before disappearing into the foliage. A moment later, he jumps back down and trots towards me, holding what looks like a liefruit in his mouth. It’s a magically infused fruit that only grows in these forests. Fae often lose their lives trying to pick them. They are said to fill you, rejuvenate you, and heal you better than any meal or healing ever will.
I grasp the golden fruit gently, holding it securely. I have only tasted it once when the prince had given it to me for my birthday after sneaking into the forest one night to pick it. It was sweet, almost like chocolate, but fresher.
It can be addictive though.
Peeling back the glowing skin, the golden juices run free, cascading down my pale flesh like melting ice. I lick my fingers clean, moaning at the taste when it explodes on my tongue.
Fuck!
The voice blasts through my mind, and I lift my head to see Slate watching me intently. Unsure why he reacted like that, I continue eating. I bite into the juicy fruit that was once rumoured to be eaten by the goddess and god, the excess dripping down my lips and chin. When I am done, I try to wipe it away, but then Slate is there. I freeze under the intensity of his gaze, because there, in the glowing depths, is a human staring back at me.
A lust-filled human.
I almost flinch when his tongue lolls out and drags along my chin and lips, cleaning them, tasting them.
Fuck, she is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. I would die happily after eating only her for centuries.
I blink again, my cheeks heating. He sits back and watches me, and the lust in his eyes transforms to sadness and anger. I feel it flowing from him to me, and I know where it stems from. He aches to be a man again, and strangely enough, so do I. I love the wolf, but something is stirring within me, urges that cannot be satisfied by this creature…but by the man stuck inside if I was willing to let him.
Just then we hear a roar. I leap to my feet, and this time without urging, I rush back to the den. I know what other creatures lurk in this forest, but for them to come out during the day, it must be injured or hungry.
And I am perfect to feast on, filled with magic and an easy target.
Slate follows me back and prowls in front of the den again, but this time when the creature breaks through the trees, it doesn’t stop. This one wants to hurt, wants to hunt and kill, and there is nothing saveable about it. It is a feral magic eater.
And it has its eyes set on us.
It’s large, bigger than Slate, sleek, and completely white with no eyes, but it has large holes on the sides of its head. It tilts it now, listening, and swings around to find Slate by just sound alone. Its tail is pointed like a sword and glitters with stolen magic. In fact, a blast of it pours from its body as it leaps, knocking Slate back. I almost scream when the creature lands on Slate and manages to bite him.
He is up quickly though, and I stay silent as he quickly and efficiently kills it, ripping it to pieces until his black fur is covered in glittering embers of dying magic and the beast’s carcass lies forgotten on the ground. He stumbles on his feet, hurt.
I rush out and drop to my knees beside him. Panic winds through me as my magic pulses from my hands, already reaching for him.
No, you are already tired, I’m fine.
I ignore him and close my eyes. The fruit and my panic causes my magic to burst from me and into him stronger than ever before. It locks us together, but this time, it doesn’t just explode…it melds.
We both let out a scream.
My vision goes black, I cannot see or hear, but somehow, I know I am still holding on, still pumping magic into him, and I don’t know why. His wounds are healed, but my magic has a mind of its own right now. It’s flowing through him, peeling something back, again and again, like we are flaying him. He screams in agony, writhing and begging me to stop, but I cannot, and I don’t know why.
The cycle continues until, with an audible boom, I’m thrown backwards. Vision still black, I land hard on my side, breathing like I have been running. My entire body aches, my arm is bruising from the impact, and my hip hurts. I lift my head, my hand outstretched blindly. “Slate?” I whisper. “Slate?” I call louder.
I hear something, a rip, a howl of pain that has tears flowing from my eyes, and then it goes quiet apart from some heavy breathing other than my own.
I jump when something warm and hard touches my hand—it feels like a person. I almost fall back in shock, but arms catch me and I sag in them. The scent is familiar, like trees and nature all rolled into a musky male package.
“It’s me,” comes the familiar, dark husky voice.
“Slate?” I whisper, my hand dragging up the warm object, and that’s when my eyes finally clear. I am stroking along his chest—his very well-built, naked, golden chest.
Lifting my head, I meet those glowing eyes, the same ones from his wolf form. He has dark hair, almost scruffy in the way it hangs, again reminding me of his wolf. His jaw is covered in stubble, his lips pink and plump. He has high, arched cheekbones and a square, rugged jaw. I can feel the strength and power in his impressive body, and my eyes drop to his wide, muscular chest and shoulders.
He’s holding me.
He’s naked.
I realise it at the same time I notice something hard and long pressing into my back. I must make a squeak, because he laughs, the sound loud, free, and so jubilant, I cannot help but laugh also as he leans down and kisses me.
He kisses me hard and fast before pulling back. “You did it! You made me human again!”
I’m still stuck on the kiss, my lips tingling from it. Heat pools low in my belly, my palms sweat, and my center pulses at the sight of my Slate, my wolf, as a man.
A heartbreakingly beautiful and familiar man.
I know instantly I am in trouble. Slate as a wolf was comforting and safe. Slate as a man is dangerous and sexy, and I cannot help but lean into him like he is my sun and I am a flower blooming under his presence.
His chuckle cuts off, and those glowing eyes lock on mine. His lips part slightly as he reaches up and drags his fingers along my mouth, claiming them, branding them as his, removing every other touch before him. “I can touch you…” He leans down again, dragging his lips along the path his fingers just took. “Taste you.” He pulls me closer until I feel the pounding of his heart against my cheek. “Hold you.”