Page 20 of Craved By the Werewolf
The trail curved sharply upward for the last stretch, and then suddenly we emerged onto a rocky outcropping that took my breath away.
"This is the Lookout," Thorne said quietly.
I could see why he'd named it that. The ridge sat high above the valley, offering an unobstructed view of all of Mystic Ridge spread out below us. The town looked different from this angle—smaller, maybe, but also more magical. Lights were beginning to twinkle on as dusk approached, creating a soft, misty glow that made everything look like it belonged in a fairy tale. The river caught the last of the sunset light like a silver ribbon, the forest canopy rolled out in waves of green, and the distant mountains stood sentinel against a sky that was just beginning to blush with twilight colors.
"This is incredible," I breathed, moving to the railing. "You can see everything from up here."
"I come here when I need to think. When the responsibilities get too heavy." He gestured toward the town below. "Reminds me what I'm protecting."
I could understand that. From this height, Mystic Ridge looked like something out of a fairy tale—a place worth protecting, worth fighting for. Worth staying for.
"Look," he said softly, pointing toward a cluster of trees near the river. "Do you see them?"
I followed his gaze and gasped. Tiny points of light were dancing between the branches, moving in slow, graceful patterns like fireflies made of starlight. But these weren't insects—they were too purposeful, too beautiful.
"Forest spirits," Thorne explained. "They come out at dusk. Most humans can't see them. They're attracted to a certain energy."
As if responding to his words, the lights began to drift upward, a handful breaking away from the trees to spiral lazily toward us. I held perfectly still as one floated close enough to touch, its glow warm and somehow curious.
"They like you," Thorne said, wonder in his voice. "They don't usually approach strangers."
The tiny spirit—or whatever it was—bobbed in front of my face for a moment before rejoining its companions. I watched them dance back toward the trees, feeling like I'd just been granted admission to some secret club.
"That was amazing," I said, turning back to Thorne. "I've lived here my whole life and I've never seen anything like that."
"Maybe you weren't looking from the right angle before."
There was something in his voice that made me glance up at him. He was watching me with an intensity that sent heat pooling in my stomach, his eyes reflecting the last of the sunset light.
"Vala," he said quietly.
I should have stepped back. Should have made some joke to defuse the tension. Should have remembered all the reasons this was complicated and dangerous and probably a mistake.
Instead, I found myself moving closer.
"This is probably a bad idea," I whispered.
"Probably," he agreed, his hand coming up to cup my cheek.
And then he kissed me.
His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones as his mouth found mine. No hesitation, no testing the waters—just heat and want and something that made my brain short-circuit.
I made a sound—half gasp, half surrender—and he swallowed it, deepening the kiss as he backed me against the rocky outcropping. The stone was cool against my spine, but everywhere he touched burned. His body pressed against mine, solid and warm and real, and I could feel his heart hammering against his ribs.
My hands found the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric to pull him closer. Not close enough. Would never be close enough. When his tongue swept across my lower lip, I opened for him without thought, and the low growl that rumbled in his chest sent liquid fire straight through me.
He kissed like he did everything else—with complete focus and devastating competence. Like he'd been thinking about this exact moment, planning it, wanting it. His teeth caught my bottom lip, just a gentle scrape that made me arch against him, and then he was soothing the sting with his tongue while his hands slid into my hair.
When we finally broke apart, I couldn't breathe properly. Couldn't think. Could only stare up at him with what was probably the most dazed expression in recorded history.
His eyes caught mine, pupils blown wide, and when he spoke his voice was pure gravel. "I've been wanting to do that since I walked into that studio."
"I, ah." The words didn't come out.
"Since the first time I heard your voice on the radio." His thumb traced my swollen lower lip, and I had to fight not to lean into the touch. "Listening to you talk to strangers in the dark, wishing I could see your face."
The raw honesty in his voice undid me completely. I reached up, threading my fingers through his hair, and pulled him back down to me.
