Page 72 of Wolfkissed
“Is it? His eyes seem to be laughing now, creases at their corners. “I’d say it’s the opposite of disgusting.” He leans in. “You smell divine, Princess.”
“But...” I splutter as he grabs my hand and gets up, pulling me upright along with him. “But I smell...”
“Like the best sweet pie ever baked, warm and creamy and decadent. Like I want to sink my teeth into you, taste you, lick you all over... Take you.”
I’m breathing hard. He’s hauled me against his tall body, and he’s gazing down at me through his lashes. His canines show as he grins, a self-satisfied expression, and his amber eyes gleam. With the white streak of hair falling on his brow, those dramatic cheekbones, and the pointed ears, he’s the very picture of seduction, bewitching and dangerous at once.
Since ancient times, we humans have been telling stories about the fae, about the beguiling tricksters, the captivating, beautiful men and women leading humans astray, into dark groves and caves and ravishing them. I always thought they were naive, childish tales, steeped in ignorance and old ideas. After all, we’ve been living alongside the fae for how long now?Over five hundred years. It’s the same things we’ve always said about merfolk, and they haven’t proven any more lethal than us, humans. Any more deceiving and vicious.
And Valen isn’t deceiving me... right? He just... is. Handsome. Strong. Determined. Wild. It’s not a trick if that is your true nature, is it? Not a trick if you’re not trying to lure someone into a dark grove and use them...
Except, wearewandering through dark groves and among rocks, with no way of escape.
“...and there is that scent of fear again,” he growls, his smirk fading. “What have I said?”
“Nothing.” I take a step back, and his hand tightens on mine. “Just… Nothing.”
“I swear it on all the Gods,” he says, “I’ll erase that scent, that look from your face. I’ll make you trust me, one way or another. I refuse to have you afraid of me.”
I let out a breath. “It wasn’t?—”
“Don’t lie to me, Princess. I understand your distrust of wolves, of fae, of men. And of me in particular. But you have nothing to fear from me. There’s nothing I’d do to you unless you asked me to. Do you understand?” He reaches up and grips my chin. “Do youunderstand?”
I give a jerky nod.
He sighs. “Your scent, your face tell me you’re still lying. But that’s all right. Like I told you, I love a challenge. Even if it costs my life.”
I slowly turn my head, and he releases my chin. “Your life?”
He sniffs the air again and scowls. “A wildcat has found our scent trail. We have to get out of the rocks and try to erase our traces before it gets to us. So come on, and like I said… trust me to keep you safe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
VALERIAN
Her scent, her face, and her body are too distracting. Her tentative trust and growing confidence, her courage, her pain, and the small scar on her face, they are all endearing. Captivating.
They say that we fae are the deceivers, the enchanters, the seducers, and players. But she’s the one luring me in, one word, one look, one touch at a time. I’m gone. Given over to her. It happened so fast, I didn’t even notice when I went from lusting to craving her.
And now danger is lurking nearby. I caught a whiff of the cat as I finished grilling the meat for the way. I was watching her sleep… her scent of arousal almost distracting me enough to miss the enemy.
She’s a hazard to both our health. She could get us killed, and that’s only because I can’t stop looking at her, smelling her, needing her. My whole focus has become her, any thought of my initial mission and my people taking second place.
I haul her out of the depression in the rocks, over gaps and uneven surfaces, all too aware of her smaller body, her fragile bones and unsure footing, her small gasps when we perch on aslippery stone top, or when I let go of her hand to jump down, turning to open my arms for her.
Will she trust me?
She jumps into my embrace as if she’s really starting to, and the warmth spreading through me at the thought is better than a drink of blossomwine.
I hold her against me for a moment too long, feeling the frantic beat of her heart against my chest, the tremor going through her slight body, and then regretfully release her so we can climb down the last rocks. The cat is still prowling nearby, a male cat, marking his territory and hunting.
We need to keep moving, hoping it will lose our scent, though I very much doubt it. If the cat is hungry, it will come for us, and I will be ready.
I’ve been ready since the news came of my mother’s passing, since I had to fend for myself among the wolves.
Much like she has, in a different kind of menagerie. A different kind of savage animals, these humans, their claws made of cruel words, disinterest, and neglect.
I lead her down to the stream and help her cross it. The skirt of her green gown is long and heavy, and it drags in the water. Panic flashes across her pretty face, and with a growl, I swing her up into my arms to wade across. She’s too slow, too unused to running, too… too pleasant to hold, fitting perfectly in my arms.
