Page 25 of Little Red Riding Hood
Wim’s tongue darted out, moistening his lips, and Red’s gaze locked onto the movement, his mind conjuring unbidden images of how those lips might feel against his own. Soft? Rough? Would they taste of the forest, of wild things?
A tremor rippled through Red’s body, starting at his core and radiating outward. His fingers twitched, his toes curled, and his breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Wim’s face, drinking in every detail as if seeing him for the first time. The faint scar that arched over his left eyebrow. The slight crookedness of Wim’s nose that only served to enhance his rugged handsomeness.
Because,fuck, was he handsome! More handsome even than that nobleman from the Spring Ball that Red had plucked up the courage to talk to after several cups of ale.
And how did that end, Red?
Wim’s hand reached out, slow and deliberate. Red’s pulse thrummed like plucked strings as calloused fingertips brushed against his cheek, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. His tender touch lingered, warm and intoxicating, sending sparks dancing across Red’s skin. It was too much and not enough, all at once.
Red’s lips parted, a shaky exhale escaping. He wanted to lean into that touch, to chase the warmth of Wim’s hand. But he remained frozen, caught between desire and disbelief that Wim wanted him.
Oh, how Red would trade all the gold in the kingdom for just one kiss from Wim. But there was no way Red could initiate it, not after what Wim had said, not after the awful encounter with the handsome nobleman, the one who’d laughed in Red’s face.
If only Red were strong enough that the sting of rejection would wash off him like water, instead of needling ever deeper into his bruised heart.
Wim’s warm hand was still on his cheek.
Keeping impossibly still, Red only blinked, waiting to see what happened next.
Wim, voice low and husky, finally broke the silence. “Red, I—”
“Wilhelm!”
The unknown shout pierced the air, shattering the moment and making Red nearly jump out of his skin. Red scrambled upright lightning quick, fingers dashing madly for his bow.
“Who…?” Red searched for the intruder, pulling the bedroll up around him as if he were the naked one, not Wim. He saw nobody.
Then a wolf stepped out of the shadows of the foliage into their small camp.
“Astrid!”
Red’s breath caught in his throat as Wim leapt up, evidently utterly unabashed by his nakedness. The wolf-man strode towards the newcomer, muscles rippling beneath his skin. He placed a large hand on her neck, fingers sinking into jet-black fur.
Astrid. She was smaller than Wim’s wolf form, lithe and sleek. Her dark eyes darted between Wim and Red, intelligence glimmering within their depths.
Red’s stomach twisted. The familiarity between Wim and this wolf—Astrid—was unmistakable. A hot, ugly feeling clawed at his insides. Who was she? Why was she here?
Astrid jerked away from Wim’s touch, hackles rising. Her lips curled back, revealing sharp white teeth. A low growl rumbled from her chest as she backed away, gaze fixed on Red.
Wim held up his hands. “Easy now, Astrid. Let me explain this—”
She snapped her jaws, cutting him off. The accusation in her eyes was clear.
Red’s fingers tightened around his bow. Just who was she to Wim? Had Wim lied about not having a mate?No,Red decided, looking between them. Not mates—but close, nevertheless.
“Who isthis?You left the pack to cure your sickness, with promises of getting back to us as soon as possible. And now…” The black wolf glowered at Red.
“I’m travelling with him,that’s all.”
That’s all.
Wim seemed to have caught the phrase too—he winced and glanced at Red, who forced his face to remain impassive.
“I mean, Red is a new friend. We’re travelling the same way.”
The wolf snorted. “I’m not sure how muchtravellingcan be done wrapped up in a bedroll together. Besides, surely he’s only slowing you down!”
Red opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. Because yes, he likely was slowing Wim down. The wolf could run at least four times as fast as him.
