Page 1 of Scarlett's Wicked Wolf
Chapter 1
Scarlett
Something is in the forest.
It stalks the edge of my sleep and haunts my dreams. Massive. Breath-stealing. The shape of its hunger cuts through every dream like a blade.
And it’s always coming for me.
Every time I close my eyes, I see it: a silhouette stitched from shadow and fang, golden eyes like twin suns burning through the mist. Each dream ends the same way—with me pinned beneath it, breathless, helpless… and disturbingly aroused.
I shake off the shiver that teases down my spine, tightening my nipples into tingling points. I need to focus. Today, I need one thing:asarum canadense, also known as wild ginger. The protection charm around Ruby Cottage is nearly spent, and I need more to reinforce it. I’ve already put it off for too long. The only place it grows potent enough is in the heart of Fable Forest.
Where my visions tell me I should never go.
But that pull I’ve pretended not to notice has become a private furnace. A fire in my blood and a yearning in my soul, as if I’m part of a destiny greater than myself. Every night lately, I’ve woken with my hand between my thighs, gasping on the precipice, amber eyes bright behind my eyelids as my release hovers…
And then I wake, the throb in my core unsatisfied, as if my body is waiting for another’s touch to free the lust coiled inside me.
I blow out a frustrated breath. Note to self: I do not have time for cliffhanger orgasms.
But the feeling won’t leave me. That sense of eyes watching. Of someone… somethingwaiting. A whisper of fate slithering through the branches of the forest.
“Scarlett,” Grandma says without looking up, needles quieting mid-click. “You’re thinking about the forest.”
Her eyes rise to meet mine as she sits in her armchair by the fire. They’re my eyes, too, sharp and green, but hers have decades of laughter and worry tucked into the corners. Her silver-streaked red hair is pulled back into a low twist, and her spine straightens like a bowstring pulled taut.
I pull on my long red leather cloak and lift the hood over my braid. “I need wild ginger,” I say lightly. “Just one plant. I’ll be back before dark.”
“Do you really need to go? Alone?” Her voice is soft, but a steel edge rides beneath it.
I nod, schooling my expression into mild and sensible. “Yes. It won’t take long.”
She doesn’t speak right away. Just watches me with the same expression she wore when I was ten and tried to summon a wind spirit with nothing but confidence and a broken pendant.
Finally, she sighs. “Well, if you’re going that way, stop in to see Wendy. She’s probably running low on supplies again, what with all those children. Let me pack a basket, just in case.”
It’s not a suggestion. It’s an anchor—one last attempt to tether me to safety. Or at least slow me down. Grandma knows the herb doesn’t grow anywhere near Wendy’s house. She’s hoping the detour will keep me from venturing deeper into the forest.
But she also knows I’ll go anyway because we need to strengthen the protection spell. Two women gifted with the “sight” living in a remote cottage in Fable Forest are always at risk from those who would use our visions for their own purposes. Besides, I’m as stubborn as she is and would do anything to keep Grandma safe.
I wait while she fills a basket: jars of plum jam that catch the light like garnets, a crock of flour, a wedge of hard cheese wrapped in waxed paper, and a still-warm nut bread perfuming the kitchen with cinnamon and toasted pecan. She tucks in three mismatched wool socks and a spare set of needles with a mutter about idle hands.
“Are you sure you’ve packed enough?” I tease.
“She’s my sister.” Grandma presses the handle into my palm. “I’ll always help her.”
“I know.” I squeeze her papery-soft hand. “Like you help everyone.”
Her brow knits, lips pressing into a thin line as if she senses something she can’t put into words. “Don’t lose yourself out there.”
It’s an odd choice of words.
Not,“Don’t get lost,”but“Don’t lose yourself.”
My stomach does an odd little dip, but I shrug it off. It’s not unusual for Grandma to talk in riddles.
Pressing a kiss to her soft cheek, I head into the forest.
