Page 57 of Little Red Riding Hood
The intensity of the wolf’s gaze pierced Red. His warm hand slid from Red’s chin to cup his cheek, thumb brushing beneath thebrown eye that the Queen despised. “Listen carefully, sweetheart. I promise you, if I ever have the chance to rip out that woman’s throat, I will. I swear it on my life.”
Wim’s raw fury was so palpable, Red shuddered. The wine-soaked part of Red’s mind latched onto the words. This surely wasn’t merely the righteous anger of a decent man—there was something else there, something fiercely protective in a way that made Red’s heart swell and throb.
The moment grew so intense, he was forced to look away with a nervous laugh. “Oh? Shall we do the pack swear? Like little Toby made me do?” He lifted his hand, pinky extended, desperate to lighten the heavy moment.
Wim’s lips twitched, but the dangerous gleam remained in his eyes. He wrapped his much larger pinky around Red’s. “On my honour as a wolf. Those eyes are a gift from God himself. That witch doesn’t deserve to even look at them.”
Something dangerous and tender wrestled in Wim’s expression as his thumb traced endless patterns beneath Red’s eye. The wine must be affecting them both, Red thought, for Wim to speak like that.
“I’ve seen her treat her own son, Makellos, with the same cruel scrutiny.”
“Are the two of you close?”
Red snorted through another gulp of wine. “Pah! He made it very clear when we were young children that I was beneath him. I tried again and again to talk to him, but he wasn’t interested.” Red took another swig, and almost went for another, but Wim snatched the bottle from him. “Though, I have to admit, it’s true what they say. Makellosisthe most beautiful person in the whole kingdom.”
A loud rumble came from Wim’s throat.
Red laughed. “It’s not like that. I do not desire Makellos, I’m only envious of his beauty.” Red tugged on his hair. He’d spent his childhood yanking on the straw, praying it would transform into black silk. His hand was quickly caught by Wim’s larger one,completely enclosing it. Then, with his other arm, Wim reached around to grab Red’s waist.
Before he knew it, Red was flying through the air—Wim lifted him as easily as a doll, to place him on his lap. A small sound of shock escaped Red’s lips. Wim pulled him even closer, and Red’s heart began to beat impossibly fast.
“This perfect beauty you envy sounds dull as dishwater. Soft white skin can’t compare to an archer’s hands.” Wim traced the palm of Red’s hand, circling the small calluses from his bow. “And hair as black as night is nothing special next to sunshine caught in copper.”
“Oh please, you can’t possibly pretend to like my hair!”
“Like? Sweetheart, Iloveyour hair,” Wim breathed into his ear, entwining his fingers in Red’s tangled mop. “Though it does often stick up in random directions.”
“Hey!”
“But luckily for you, I like the wild look.”
Wim threaded his fingers through Red’s apparently wild hair. He cradled Red’s face again, and Red leaned into the touch.
“Want to know what I love even more than your hair?”
“Okay,” Red whispered, then swallowed.
Wim’s thumb brushed beneath Red’s right eye. He pulled back to stare into it. “This eye of yours. Like… rich brandy in candlelight. Or fresh honey straight from the hive.” He tilted his head. “And… well… like those autumn leaves I run through as a wolf.”
Red snorted, though his throat tightened. If his tongue wasn’t tied, he’d have teased Wim for fancying himself a poet.
Wim’s tone softened to silk. “And this one…” His thumb shifted to Red’s left eye. “Like winter frost on a clear night. The two of them together… most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”
The words knocked the air from Red’s lungs. His chest constricted. Without thinking, he surged forward, pressing his lips to Wim’s. A sound of surprise rumbled through Wim’s chest, but then large hands gripped Red’s waist, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, grew hungrier. Red’s fingers tangled in Wim’s hair as Wim’s tongueswept into his mouth, tasting of wine and want. Heat blazed between them, and Red had the mad urge to rip off all of his clothes. He shifted in Wim’s lap, desperate to get closer, to feel more of him.
“Sweetheart,” Wim growled against his lips, “you’re going to be the death of me.”
Red’s head spun, a delicious, intoxicating desire coursing through his veins. Every touch of Wim’s hands sent sparks across his skin, and he found himself pressing closer, chasing that heat. Wim kissed him again, and Red’s bravery grew with every press of his lips.
“You know.” Red traced a finger down Wim’s chest. “You put ideas in my head earlier, wolf.”
“Oh?” Wim’s voice rumbled through Red’s entire body.
“When you described me treating you like an obedient dog at my command.” The words came out bolder than Red would normally dare, wine loosening his tongue.
“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” A deep growl vibrated from Wim’s chest. His grip tightened on Red’s waist. “To have a big bad wolf at your mercy? And what would you order me to do?”
Red leaned in close to Wim’s ear, the wolf’s beard scraping against his cheek. “I’d have you on your knees, and then I’d make you use that wicked tongue of yours until I’m screaming so loud the whole forest—” The world tilted suddenly, and Red swayed in Wim’s lap, his words cutting off as he lost his balance.
