Page 10 of A Kiss From a Wolfman
I don’t fear him—a revelation more shocking than finding him attractive. For some reason, despite his evident ability to cause me harm at the flick of his wrist, I know he won’t hurt me. That will not be the case for the hunters should they happen upon us.
“My cottage isn’t far from here. I can guide us there, but we must go before they see us.”
The wolfman blinks at me before opening his mouth. A voice cuts him off before I can hear what I’m sure will be another protest.
“Let’s skin him now,” a male voice cheers—Jaq.
“Yes!” A smattering of voices rises in agreement.
The wolfman tenses as my heart continues to pound. Sweat glides down my spine.
“I’ll skin him, boys, use the money from his pelt to woo that stubborn barmaid. I know her cunt is tighter than anything,” laughs Timson.
My hands feel numb, and my knees threaten to buckle. Bile coats my tongue at his crude words.
“If you marry her, you’ll let us have a turn, won’t you?” a familiar voice—Henri—asks.
“Only once I’ve broken her in.”
The world around me shifts and tilts. I reach out to steady myself on the post—vile, wretched man. I cannot marry him. I won’t. I’d rather slit my own throat. He thinks he hunts beasts for sport, but no creature is as wretched and monstrous as him.
A low growl cuts through the air as the wolfman’s eyes burn into mine.
“Please,” I say weakly. “If they find out I freed you?—”
I can’t even bring myself to complete the sentence.
Rolling his massive shoulders, the wolfman inclines his head in agreement. I try not to sag with relief as I quickly gather my things, leaving no trace of our existence.
“My home is just over that hill—nestled right intoThe Woods.”
Footsteps sound from near the front of the mill. We’ll have to be run, and I’ve never been particularly?—
The wolfman walks over to me before lowering to all fours again. Dipping his head in front of me, I’m unsure what he is offering. Then it clicks—he wants me to climb onto his back.
“Are you sure? Your injury?—”
But a loud retching sound from just around the corner stops my protest. A few voices jeer at Henri for being unable to handle his liquor.
This may be our only chance of escaping unseen. Quickly, I grab his fur and hoist myself atop his muscled back. My dress rips in the process, but I pay little mind to it. My thighs go to either side of him, his fur tickling my most tender flesh. He is wide enough that the muscles of my legs burn with the stretch. Leaning down, I hold tight to his powerful frame.
With a loud howl, the beast below me leaps forward and takes off into the night. Darkness swallows us up as I hear Timson’s yell pierce through the air. I pay it no mind and only hold on tighter to the wolfman.
He runs without stopping, even if I know his injury must be hurting him. The grassy terrain of the village is a blur as we race towards my home. There is determination lacing through every powerful stride. His body absorbs the impact as we travel faster and faster. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
I recall the harsh set of his muscles when he heard Timson’s and the other’s voices. Despite his wounds, he was ready to take them head-on. It stands to reason that for the first time since coming to this village, there may finally be someone who wants Timson dead as much as I do.
3
STELLA
Coming to a stop outside my tiny cottage, I slide from the wolfman’s back.
My modest home has a simple thatch roof and plain stone walls. A small herb garden is nestled along one side, while the back leads directly intoThe Woods. It’s quiet this far away from Moon’s Hollow. The sound of rustling leaves and hooting owls breaks the late-night silence. The large moon is our only light source, casting everything in hazy blue light.
I turn to look at my companion. His golden eyes are guarded, casting me wary glances as he scents the air. Looking behind his shoulder, his pointed ears twitch before lowering. I wait to hear raised voices coming from the village, indicating that Timson and his men saw us, but all remains quiet. After a moment, his eyes return to mine expectantly.
Reaching into my bag, I produce my iron house key and quickly unlock the front door. The old metal hinges squeak open. The front part of my home is a basic kitchen with a circular table and two chairs resting against the wall. Off to the right is my sitting area, where a small loveseat sits next to a side table. A few dogeared books are strewn across the cushions. My woodenbookshelf is nearly buckling from the heavy tomes stacked on each shelf. Behind a curtain is my bedroom, which has a bed and a small wardrobe.
