Page 23 of Far From Sherwood Forest
Fuck no.
I’m going to fucking kill Robin Hood and then myself.
Dammit. Ivy wouldn’t like those thoughts.
Then again, this is her fucking fault. Why the fuck did she have to mentionkissing? She was the one who put those revolting thoughts in my head, and apparently my stupid brain has decided to run with it. It’s processing these images of Robin in nothing but shorts, his smooth skin wet with shimmering beads of water, the sun making him glow, and it’s coming to the conclusion that he’s…
No.
It’s just because I’m seeing him in such a beautiful setting.
It’snotbecausehe’sbeautiful.
I don’t know what’s more disturbing. The fact that I’m having those kinds of thoughts about a man. Or aboutRobin Hood.
Robin Hood. Definitely Robin Hood.
By the time I finally shake some of those thoughts enough to function, I’m fuckingfurious. Raging. My blood is boiling, and now I’m feeling hot for an entirely different reason.
Raising the bow, I pull back the arrow and release it without a second thought.
It goes flying through the air, whizzing inches from Robin’s head.
Damn. Missed.
Okay, I wasn’tactuallyaiming to kill him. Even if I was tempted to do that just to finally be rid of him, I still believe a quick death is too good for him.
Robin snaps his head to the side, his eyes immediately finding me.
He fuckinggrins.
Scrambling to his feet, he dives back into the water as I nock another arrow. I can barely see him as he moves beneath the surface, but I shoot it anyway and watch as it strikes the water.
If I do end up killing him, oh well.
At least then I won’t be forced to psychoanalyze those thoughts I was having about him thirty seconds ago.
Robin comes back up on the opposite bank of the pool and climbs out of the water. He picks up a bow I hadn’t noticed over there and throws the strap of a quiver over his shoulder. Then he’s darting away through the trees.
“Catch me if you can, Sheriff!”
I curse and turn around, heading back the way I came and searching out the quickest path around the waterfall. When I make it to the other side, I stop and listen, my eyes scanning the ground for signs of which way he went. He was soaking wet when he started running, water dripping from his shorts and hair. I notice a trail of barely discernible dark spots on the otherwise dry dirt and follow them until a path starts to open up.
There’s no warning sound before an arrow flies right in frontof my face and sinks into the trunk of the tree on my left. The echo of laughter that follows is enough to give me an idea of where he is.
I pick up my pace after that, running through the woods in what I can only hope is the right direction.
Another arrow comes.
This time, it’s from somewhere behind me and striking a tree several yards ahead.
I growl as I spin around. “You’re playing with fire, Robin!”
“That water was freezing. Just trying to warm up, Henry.”
I can clearly see that amused, smug smirk of his in my mind as I once again try to follow the sound of his voice. It’s a little easier now since he sounded closer. I get an arrow ready just in case.
There’s movement off to the right, and I peer over just in time to see red and brown leaves kicked up in a flurry start to flutter and settle back to the ground. I raise my bow, sighting down the arrow as I move it with the sound of his steps.
