Page 104 of Little Red Riding Hood
“Oi!” Red splashed water at him.
“Time to seal it with a howl,” Wim said, pulling Red closer. He tilted his head back and let out a long, melodious howl that reverberated through the cave.
Red attempted to join in, but what emerged was more of a strangled yelp than anything resembling a wolf’s call. The sound bounced off the rocks, somehow managing to sound even worse with the echo.
Wim pressed his face into Red’s wet curls, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
“Oh, do shut up,” Red grumbled. “We can’t all be perfect at everything.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Wim planted a kiss to Red’s temple. “We have forever for me to teach you how to howl properly.”
Epilogue
Two months later
Red pressed his back against the rough-hewn logs of the city wall, his breath misting in the chill night air. The royal guards’ boots scraped against the walkway above, their spears catching glints of amber lamplight as they patrolled between the watchtowers. Several handlers kept fierce dogs on thick leather leads, but none would match the raw power of his wolf, who crouched beside him in the shadows.
“Three more minutes until the shift change.” Astrid’s whisper carried on the breeze. Her dark eyes gleamed as she peered around the corner, tracking the guards’ movements.
Red’s fingers found the familiar worn fabric of his cloak, drawing it closer. The thought of seeing Auntie Anne again after these long months made his chest tight with longing. He’d promised Tobias a full performance of their rescue mission, complete with dramatic sword fights and daring escapes. The boy had sulked for days when told he couldn’t join them, but even his fierce pout hadn’t swayed his mother.
“Ready, sweetheart?” Wim’s low voice sent a shiver down Red’s spine as his mate’s familiar scent wrapped around him like an embrace.
“You know me. I was born ready.” Red tilted his chin up, meeting Wim’s smirk and those amber-orange eyes that still made his breath hitch when they bored into his.
The guards above called out their positions, boots crunching as they began the changing of the watch. Red’s pulse quickened as he counted down the precious seconds until their window of opportunity. The massive wall loomed above them, a fortress of timber that had kept him trapped for so many winters.
“Now.” Wim’s command galvanised them into action. He unwound the coiled rope from his stomach, the movement lifting his shirt to reveal a tantalising strip of skin…
Not the time, Red.
The grappling hook glinted dull bronze in the dim light as he tossed it to Astrid. She caught it with practiced grace, her movements fluid as she spun it in swift circles above her head. The hook sailed through the air in a perfect arc, catching on the wall’s edge with a muffled clank that made Red’s breath catch. His eyes darted to the guard posts, but no shouts of alarm rang out.
Wim tugged the rope, testing its hold. “Solid.”
“Quickly now.” Astrid’s voice carried an edge of impatience.
But Wim’s attention had already shifted. His dark eyes found Red’s, that familiar cocky grin spreading across his face. “Kiss for luck?”
These past two months had brought countless kisses—lazy morning kisses tasting of herb tea, playful nips exchanged while hunting, desperate embraces in hidden forest corners, tender touches beneath starlight. Each one precious, each one stored away in Red’s memory like treasured jewels.
“We don’t have time for—” Astrid’s hiss cut off as Wim reached for Red, strong hands gripping his waist.
The kiss blazed fierce and claiming, Wim’s mouth hot against his. Red’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, drinking in the warmth of him, the solid strength. When they broke apart, it left Red’s heart thundering against his ribs.
“For luck,” Red whispered, straightening his cloak with trembling hands. Because what if Wim died tonight, during this crazy plan to rescue Auntie Anne—a selfishness on Red’s part to not be without the woman who was the closest thing he had to a mother?
Red’s mouth still tingled from the kiss as Wim gripped the rope. His wolf scaled the wall with impossible speed, muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he vanished over the top in the space of a heartbeat.
Red blinked at the empty rope, sharing a glance with Astrid in the shadows. The silence stretched between them, broken only by distant owl calls and the shuffle of guards’ boots.
Beyond the wall, the palace rose like a gleaming beast against the night sky. Moonlight caught the silver-gilt window frames and alabaster towers that stabbed upwards into the stars. The grand architecture masked the cold reality within those walls—decades of isolation, of the Queen’s cutting remarks about his eyes, of meals taken alone in his cramped attic room. His gaze drifted to that highest window, imagining dust gathering in the corners where he’d once curled up with borrowed books. By now, the spiders would have claimed his old bed, weaving their delicate webs across the wooden beams.
In the throne room below, the Queen would be holding court, perched on her gilded seat. Her perfect lips would curl with displeasure at some perceived flaw, her sharp words cutting deeper than any blade. How many times had Red stood before that throne, shoulders rigid as she dictated his future?
For twenty-four winters, others had carved his path—which clothes to wear, where he could go, how he would serve, when to speak, how to stand, who to be. But now… now he’d chosen Wim’s rough hands and tender heart. Chosen pack bonds and forest paths, chosen love that saw past his imperfections to the fire burning beneath.
Freedom tasted sweeter than any palace feast, felt warmer than any velvet cloak. His chest expanded with the weight of it—this precious gift of choosing his own destiny. Of being chosen in return.
