Page 14 of Little Red Riding Hood
Wim sat back on his haunches, his large eyes fixed on the squirrel. His tongue lolled out in what Red could only interpret as a wolfish grin. “Careful. I could happily swallow this prize right here, rather than share it with you this eve.”
It would only be fair. Red wouldn’t have blamed him at all. But with a shake of his massive body, Wim padded over to where his discarded clothing lay, and began his miraculous transformation back into man.
This time, Red didn’t turn his head when presented with Wim’s bare form. Instead, Red’s gaze traced the contours of Wim’s naked body. His admittedly glorious naked body. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, a canvas of lean muscle and coarse, dark hair. Scars criss-crossed his chest and abdomen—from the teeth and claws of other wolves?—telling tales of battles fought and won.
Redcouldn’t deny it—the sheer size of him was… appealing.
Wim’s thighs, thick as tree trunks, flexed as he moved. Red’s eyes followed the trail of dark hair down his stomach, lower and lower until—
Fuck, that was one large cock.
Wim was a towering bear of a man, so it wasn’t completely unexpected, but Red was certain it was at least slightly disproportionate, being so absolutely massive. The longer Red looked at it, swinging around in the air as Wim dressed his torso, the bigger it seemed.
Blood ran south, and Red’s own member began to thicken, the poor thing clearly as confused as Red was. Heat flooded Red’s cheeks. He jerked his gaze back up, meeting Wim’s knowing smirk.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “See something you like, sweetheart?”
Red’s mouth went dry. His pulse rabbited against his ribs, blood rushing in his ears. How did one respond to such a question? And why did the sight of this infuriating man affect him so? He’d never been attracted to anyone so… brutish before.
“Would you put… thatthingaway!”
Wim unleashed a booming laugh. “A prude, are you?” He grinned, finally tugging on some well-worn drawers. “Saving yourself for your wedding night?”
“No! As I said, I’ve had many the suitor. And many, many… romps in the hay as well! Too many to count!” Could wolves smell lies? Red could only pray not.
“You’re as red as your cloak again.”
Red turned his face away. Oh, how he regretted this alliance. He’d go mad spending another day with this fool.
“I think you were named after the colour your face favours, not your cloak, after all.”
“Can you just…stop!” Red’s foot may have performed a tiny stamp of its own accord. “Please!”
Wim laughed as he reached down to pick up Red’s quiver that he hadn’t even realised was on the ground. As he did so, the flap at thetop came loose, spilling several arrows onto the forest floor. Among them, a single shaft caught the filtered sunlight, gleaming with an otherworldly radiance.
Red’s heart seized in his chest. The golden arrow.
Of course, it did not escape Wim’s notice. His large hand closed around it, lifting it high for inspection. The arrow seemed to glow even brighter in his grasp, its shaft adorned with intricate engravings that spiralled from nock to tip. The arrowhead itself was a work of art, impossibly sharp and glinting like a fallen star.
“Well, well,” Wim murmured, turning the arrow this way and that. “What have we here?”
Panic clawed at Red’s throat. He lunged forward, snatching the arrow from Wim’s grasp with such force that he nearly toppled over.
“Don’t touch that!” Red clutched the golden arrow to his chest, his heart pounding so fiercely he was certain Wim could hear it. “It’s not to be played with!”
Wim’s eyebrows shot up, surprise etched across his rugged features. “Easy there. I meant no harm.”
Red took a step back, his fingers tightening around the precious arrow. How could he have been so careless? The Queen would have his head if anything happened to it.
“It’s…” Red trailed off. Should he reveal the entire plan to Wim? But he already knew half of it. Surely there was no extra harm in telling him about the arrow? “For Old Oma. I’m to shoot her through the heart with it.”
Wim’s expression darkened, amber eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. For a moment, Red could have sworn he saw a flash of something primal, almost feral, in those depths. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by nonchalance.
“A golden arrow, eh?” Wim’s manner was deceptively casual, but there was an undercurrent of tension that set Red’s nerves on edge. “Bit fancy for hunting, no?”
Red clutched the arrow tighter, suddenly aware of how exposed he felt. “It’s not just any arrow. It’s… enchanted, I suppose you could say.”
Wim’s eyebrows shot up, interest clearly piqued. “Enchanted? How so? What will happen to her?”
