Page 12 of Ruining Red
There, directly behind me.I hear it.Panic assails my body, and yet, I force myself to remain still.My heart slams in my chest, stuttering my breathing.Try as I might, I find I cannot draw enough air into my lungs.
Crunch.
Each inhale is shallow, quick, not nearly filling enough.My vision blurs as dizziness threatens to overtake me.What can possibly be out here in the darkness?The sound isn’t loud enough to be a massive creature.
Crunch.
With each step, it comes closer.I am helpless, defenseless.My mouth drops open, a scream hovering at my lips, but nothing comes out.Not so much as a squeak disrupts the quiet around me.
Crunch.
I’m too young to die.I still have my life ahead of me.Looking up into the night sky, I watch as the clouds part, revealing a full moon.The beams shine down, as if throwing me into the light.Is this some sort of sign?
Crunch.
Closer now, so very close.Forcing myself to calm, I take in the first deep breath since hearing the ominous sound.The air is laced with decadence, a mouth-watering scent that has no right smelling so divine.
It stirs hunger in me, but not for food.A different sort of need takes over, and I twist in my bonds.Not to be free, but to seek out that scent, to find who or what is causing it.Whimpers claw at my throat, barely audible, yet still shattering the silence.
Crunch.
The sound stops, and I pull forward, desperate to be free of my bindings.Every few moments, I pause, listening for more sounds, more footsteps, but hear nothing.Again, the night is deathly silent, waiting for either of us to make the first move.
Hands skim up my arms, hot against my frigid skin.They ignite a fire in me, blazing so hot I fear I will melt.Again, my vision fuzzes around the edges, but this time, I don’t feel as if I will slump forward in a faint.This feels altogether different.
Nimble fingers work at the ropes, the realization setting my mind spinning.This can’t be the god I’m to be sacrificed to.Why would he let me go?Again, I twist and tug, desperate to help this unknown Samaritan out, to see who dares defy a god.
Once I’m free, I fall forward, pitching toward the snow.Those hands wrap around my waist, hauling me up, keeping me from faltering.Turning, my eyes lock onto a familiar gaze.Those gray depths seem darker now, more ferocious.But I cannot tell if it’s a trick of the light or my imagination.
“You must hurry,” he rasps out, concern lacing his tone.“There is a wolf nearby.He means to devour you.”
My mind slowly clicks along, not understanding what it is he’s conveying.A wolf?A haze of memory teases me, a howl.But was that really a wolf?Or was it me?Nothing makes sense as I stare into his fathomless eyes.
I want to lose myself in the promise I see there.It’s as if I’m reflected in his gaze.Only, the woman I see staring back is wanton, free, and so deliriously happy.Shaking my head, I dispel the thought.
Lovely as it is, it isn’t real.Nothing about that woman exists.Sliding my fingers along the front of his shirt, I soak in the warmth emanating from his chest.So warm, so safe, so… decadent.Better than that, he seems to be the source of the mouth-watering scent which makes my stomach clench in some unnamable need.
Unable to help myself, I lean in, running my nose along the buttons that keep his body contained.How I long to slide my fingers between the fabric and rip it apart, sending those buttons flying into the snow.In my mind, I picture myself lapping at his chest, tasting the hint of salt on his skin.
With a jolt, I yank back as I blink up at him.What manner of thoughts are these?I know nothing of men or their chests, much less what they taste like.Fingers trembling, I force my hands back to my side.
The stranger merely looks at me, his head tilted as if studying a curious thing.Under the scrutiny of his gaze, I find that odd dampness between my thighs returning.Though I take a step back, he steps with me, as if we are of one mind.
“You should run,” he purrs, his voice washing over me like a soothing blanket.
Run?Why should I run?Here is where I long to be.My thoughts jumble, and I find I’m unable to keep a hold of any of them.With each hot breath that washes over my skin, they scatter, like chaff on the wind.
There’s something about his eyes.They hold me there, glue me to the spot.I can’t run, not when he looks at me this way.It’s as if he sees me, truly sees me.Few in the village dared look upon me, and the gazes of those who did were full of scorn and contempt.
I understand now.It wasn’t my potential rise in power that caused them all to treat me as if I were nothing.It’s because I am the sacrifice, the scapegoat, the dirty thing that must be cast from their midst.
Only, the man standing before me doesn’t hold hatred in his eyes.He holds no ill will that I can see.In fact, there’s a warmth there, a longing that matches my own.It’s as if he’s been lonely as well, seeking comfort in an outcast like me.
Reaching up, I graze his cheek with my palm, my heart fluttering at the illicit contact.Never before have I been allowed to touch another that wasn’t my family.Instead of running from me, he stands there, enduring my touch.
My breath catches in my throat as his eyes turn molten, like liquid steel.Some unnamed emotion weaves around us, binding us together in that moment.It’s a spell I never wish to be free from.
Witchcraft.That’s the only term I have for it.My gaze drifts down to his full lips, my own tingling with anticipation.How often have I seen the men and women interact, their lips touching in light affection?How often have I sighed and wished that I, too, could experience such rapture?
