Page 96 of Little Red Riding Hood
His mother’s final gift hadn’t just been Wim’s life, it had been the chance for them to build something real together. Something lasting.
“Thank you,” Red whispered to the darkening forest, to his mother. “For everything.”
Twenty-One
Mine-claim-mark-mate.
The burning need to claim Red clawed through Wim’s chest as he walked behind him. Every step, every sway of those narrow hips, every swish of red cloak, drove him mad withwant. He’d planned to lead them both far from this cursed place before claiming the one who belonged to him, but his control now stretched gossamer-thin.
The bond thrummed between them, raw and wild. Wim’s teeth ached with the need to mark that pale throat. To pin Red against the nearest tree and—no. Not here. Not in this dark, gloomy place that reeked of death.
But soon. Very soon.
Red’s scent filled his nostrils—wild berries mixed with lingering fear-sweat from their ordeal. But beneath it all lurked that intoxicating sweetness that made Wim’s wolf surge forward, desperate to chase, to hunt, to claim.
Then another scent cut through the air—night-blooming jasmine. Pure. Clean. Perfect.
Wim lifted his head, nostrils flaring. The breeze carried promises of soft petals and secret places. He gripped Red’s shoulder, steering them in a different direction.
“What are you—” Red started to protest.
“Trust me, sweetheart.” The endearment rolled off his tongue like silk. “There’s somewhere special nearby.”
Red spun to face him, those gorgeously mismatched eyes so wide and so, so trusting. The sight knocked the breath from Wim’s lungs. Gone was the haughty palace brat who’d stumbled into his forest. In his place stood someone raw and real—someone who’d sacrificed his own blood for Wim’s life.
Wim crushed his mouth to Red’s, drinking in his gasp of surprise. His hands found Red’s waist, pulling him close enough to feel the thundering pulse beneath that milk-pale skin.
Memories of Oma’s cottage flooded back—the sickening crunch as the hellhound’s teeth had torn into his flesh, the copper tang of his own blood pooling beneath him. He’d known then that death approached on swift wings. The beast that was Red’s father had meant to end him. Perhaps the hellhound only sought to protect its own mate—Old Oma—from a perceived threat.
Yet Red had chosen him, without hesitation. Had given up the chance to know his true parents, had watched his mother sacrifice herself to save Wim’s life. The depth of that gift staggered him.
The witch’s dying words rang in his ears: only by claiming Red’s heart could he ever hope to be free of his feral sickness.
Red’s fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him deeper into the kiss. Wim growled low in his throat, his wolf rising to meet that demanding touch. This beautiful, fierce creature had become everything to him.
He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to Red’s as they both caught their breath.
“It’s not much further.”
Wim grabbed Red’s hand, half running through the Dark Forest, dragging Red along beside him.
The jasmine scent grew stronger as Wim pushed through a curtain of hanging vines. Seeing what lay beyond had his breath catching in his throat.
A hidden grotto.
Crystalline water tumbled down moss-covered rocks into a circular pool, its surface like polished obsidian in the dim light. Steam rose up from the water—a hot spring. The heat it generated filled the grotto with warmth, a pocket of bliss within the cold forest.
Along the water’s edge, clusters of luminous fungi pulsed with blue-green light. The glow caught Red’s face, painting his skin in mystical hues that made his eyes shimmer, and Wim’s chest squeezed at the sight of it.
“It’s beautiful here,” Red whispered, releasing Wim’s hand to crouch beside a patch of the glowing mushrooms. His hands hovered just above their delicate caps. The fungi’s light rippled across the pool’s surface, creating patterns that danced like starlight on the water. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”
The awe in Red’s words made Wim’s wolf preen with satisfaction. Wim inhaled deeply, savouring how the jasmine mixed with Red’s berry sweetness. Here, away from the oppressive darkness of the witch’s territory, everything felt lighter. Purer.
Crossing his legs, Red stared into the pool.
It was breathtaking here. But something about the way Red held his back completely straight… a tightness to his jaw…
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Wim ran his knuckles across Red’s chin.
