Page 62 of Apples Dipped in Gold
It didn’t matter that she had kissed me back or that she had liked it. What mattered was that she did not know the truth of who I was, and I did not want to tellher, because I didn’t want to watch as she realized her mistake and rejected me a second time.
She was right. I was a coward.
We continued to make our way through the forest, but soon even the fox slowed, his fur weighed down with ice.
“We must find shelter,” I said.
“I know of a place,” said the fox. “It is not much, but it is not far.”
I did not care what it was so long as Samara was out of this weather.
The fox led us on, twisting through trees and down slippery hills until we came to what I could only describe as a lean-to. It was basically a room with three walls and a thatched roof, but it had an iron stove. Inside, the ash was nearly solid. I scraped it onto the floor, uncaring of the mess I made, highly aware of how deeply Samara was shivering. Once it was clean, I rose and headed out into the rain.
“Where are you going?” Samara asked.
It was the first time she had spoken to me since last night.
“To find wood for the fire,” I said.
“It’s raining,” she said.
“There is still a chance I can find dry wood,” I said. “I will return. Fox will keep you safe.”
I wandered out again and searched high and low for dry wood. It was harder to find with the forest so wet, but there were dead branches tangled in the canopy above that had managed to stay mostly dry. I also gathered a few larger logs, as it was possible to split them into smaller, dryer pieces.
When I returned, I found Samara curled in the cornerand the fox lying on her feet. They were both shivering. I set to work with a sense of urgency, picking pieces of thatch from the roof to use as kindling. I pried apart the logs with my knife and shaved away pieces of dry wood.
Once a fire blazed in the stove, I turned to the opening of the lean-to and summoned my magic. Thorns sprouted from the wood, and vines burst from the ground, weaving through one another and blossoming until the lean-to was closed off from the outside. It wasn’t necessary to keep the space warm, but I thought Samara might prefer it.
When I was finished, I turned to find her watching me.
“Sorry,” she said and cleared her throat. “I just…haven’t seen you use your magic before.”
“I don’t mind when you watch me,” I said, even though she dropped her gaze after.
I took off my cloak and hung it from a knot on the wood and then pulled off my tunic, which was mostly dry, far dryer than Samara’s wet blanket and dress.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I looked at her, disliking how alarmed she sounded.
“You need to change into something dry,” I said.
“But what about you?”
I smiled faintly. “While I would not mind you naked, I imagine you prefer otherwise.”
She stared at me, then stood, slipping the wet blanket from her shoulders.
“Change in front of the fire,” I said.
I took the blanket and tried my best to hang it so that it could dry while she changed. I wasn’t prepared for how I would feel seeing her in my clothes. The tunic hung to her knees, and the collar was low, dipping between herbreasts. I tried not to stare, but she noticed, because she gripped the front closed.
I cleared my throat and willed my cock to settle down, but my mind was already running wild with fantasies of how it would feel to have her legs wrapped tight around my waist while I buried myself deep inside her.
That was what I wanted, and that was what I would never have, which was why breaking this curse was so important.
“What happened to you?” she whispered.
