Page 82 of Little Red Riding Hood
Red’s breath caught in his throat. He pulled back just enough to search Wim’s face, looking for any sign of mockery or deceit. But Wim’s expression held nothing but raw vulnerability, his eyes dark with an emotion Red couldn’t quite name.
“You’d want that?” Red’s voice came out very, very small. “With…me?”
“Aye, with you.” Wim’s thumb traced Red’s cheekbone. “I’d be a fool not to. You’re beautiful. And infuriating. And brave. And absolutely maddening.”
Heat bloomed across Red’s face. He ducked his head, but Wim caught his chin, tilting it back up.
“I mean every word, sweetheart. Once I’m cured, once I’m myself again… nothing would make me happier than to be with you. I know it’s been mere days together, but… don’t you feel it too? This thread pulling us together. My pack always said you know your mate the moment you find them—like the stars themselves align to tell you they’re yours.”
What was Wim saying? Red hardly dared to blink, his heart pounding with such velocity it dizzied him.
The wolf took a deep breath, his gaze holding Red’s with an air-crackling intensity. “I should have known the moment I smelled you, that night when I tracked your path for hours while the beast had control. I know this all probably sounds mad to you, but… a little madness makes life worth living, don’t you think?”
Wim’s words settled in Red’s chest like warm honey, sweet and golden. But beneath that sweetness lurked the bitter truth that soon bubbled to the surface.
“But it can’t be,” Red said, though his soul screamed at him to stop, stop,stop. “The Queen will never let me leave the palace. She’d sooner see me dead, just to prove a point. And…” Red reached for the golden arrow, still on the ground. He forced himself to speak with conviction. “Iwillbe shooting Oma with this golden arrow. If there’s even a small chance of curing the famine, I have to take it. It’s my duty. Not to the Queen, but to Falchovari.”
Red stared at the golden arrow in his palm, its surface catching the filtered sunlight through the leaves. His chest ached with a familiar emptiness—the same void he’d felt his entire life. But that day in the throne room… that had changed everything.
He’d knelt before Queen Schön, heart racing as her cold gaze had swept over him. The marble floor had bitten into his knees, but he’d barely noticed the pain. Her voice, soft as silk but sharp as a blade, had laid out his task with precise clarity. Each word had filled that hollow space inside him with purpose, with meaning.
“You alone can save us,”she’d said, and for the first time in his life, Red had feltchosen. Not cast aside, not overlooked, not whispered about behind raised hands. She’d selected him for this vital mission.Him!The orphan boy with the strange eyes who’d spent his childhood dreaming of belonging.
Now, with Wim’s warmth still lingering on his skin, Red closed his fingers around the arrow’s shaft. This was his chance—perhaps his only chance—to prove his worth. To show everyone who’d ever doubted him that he could be more than just the foundling left on the palace steps. If he succeeded, children wouldn’t go to bed hungry anymore. The fields would flourish again. His kingdom would thrive.
The memory of the Queen’s smile—that rare thing she’d bestowed upon him—burned in his mind. For the first time, she’d looked at him as if he mattered, as if he was worth something.
Red traced the arrow’s delicate engravings with his thumb. Everything he’d ever wanted lay within his grasp: recognition, purpose, belonging. All he had to do was complete his mission.
But…
Oh, if only it didn’t mean losing Wim in the process!
Red stared at the mountain of a man in front of him, Wim’s form blurring as his eyes leaked with furious tears. Wim had crashed into his life like a storm, destroying every careful wall Red had built around himself. Where Red had expected a monster, he’d found gentleness. Where he’d feared mockery, he’d discovered unwavering understanding. Wim’s rough hands had shown him more kindness than any silk-clad noble. His deep laugh had filled empty spaces Red hadn’t known existed within himself.
Even now, trapped between duty and desire, Red couldn’t deny how Wim made him feel whole. Complete. As if all his jagged edges finally had somewhere to fit. The wolf had seen past his different-coloured eyes, past his sharp tongue and prickly defences, straight through to the lonely soul beneath. And instead of recoiling, Wim had reached out and pulled him closer, wrapping Red in warmth and acceptance he’d never known he craved.
Oh, why had fate done this to him?
It would have been so much easier if they’d never met.
Wim slumped against the tree, his broad shoulders curved inward. His eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the trees, glazed with a sheen that made Red’s chest ache.
“I sort of wish I still hadn’t told you the truth, as much as the lie was burdening me.” Pain threaded through each of Wim’s quiet words. “These past days… they’ve been…” He trailed off, dragging a hand down his face.
Red’s fingers itched to reach out, to smooth away the creases of pain etched across Wim’s features. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself, clutching his red cloak closer.
“They’ve been perfect,” Red finished for him. The words escaped before he could stop them, honest and raw. “Well, except for the bandits. And the slavers. And that time you tried to eat me.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across Wim’s face. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Not bloody likely.” Red bumped his shoulder against Wim’s, drawing another weak smile from him.
Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken words. To distract himself from the agonising fist squeezing his heart, Red traced his fingers over the golden arrow’s shaft, feeling its smoothness beneath his touch. He’d never detected magical energy thrumming through it, but what did he know?
This was it then. The moment they parted. Maybe if Red begged Wim, the wolf would give him a half day’s head start.
“What if…” Wim cleared his throat. “What if we just… pretend? For now?”
