Page 3 of Consumed (Shot in the Dark)

“ Y ou’re afraid.”

Eoin’s trepidation was understandable, though it made me prickle nonetheless. His work as a craftsman didn’t require him to source materials this far from the village, and I rarely guided him so far from our special tree.

What was it about today that made me pull him toward the most towering oaks, where shadows cast darkness like fingers of night?

His jaw was set. “I’m not.”

His pulse whispered against my skin where our hands were still joined. A part of me was thrilled at it as I tugged him forward. His lack of resistance was promising, although uncertain.

“Your heart is hammering. You’re afraid of the forest, but I am the forest. You can see why it wounds me.” I squeezed his hand, craning my neck to steal his gaze, to set him at ease. “I’ve told you before—you are a welcome guest here. ”

“Tolerated, more like.” Eoin’s sharp attention drifted from tree to tree, reverent of the invisible eyes of my sisters.

I bit my lip, burying a coy smile at the swirling whispers he couldn’t hear. It was true, though I’d loathe to admit it to him; while my sisters loved me ardently, they did not see the appeal of becoming so familiar with a mortal. Dirty, fragile, clumsy.

And brief . Most villagers did not see past their forty-fifth birthday.

I glanced at Eoin’s profile, still in the prime of his life.

But a lifetime to him was a mere moment for me.

When I thought of Eoin withering away and set into that formidable, monolithic tomb where all the other villagers from generations were laid to rest…

Ice crept through my body. Fear and anger writhed in my chest. My very soul howled at the abomination of it. Such an ending did not befit someone like him.

“Little niamh?” Eoin stopped short, wheeling me to face him. “Róisín? What’s wrong?”

My vision of him was clouded for a moment. When I surfaced, I blinked at the startling clarity of his face hovering over mine. Still alive. Still mine. Then—

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I stammered.

Around us, a web of blackened brambles had burst from the ground. To my alarm, they were deformed from their natural growth, curling into agonized shapes that stretched outward, climbing over each other rather than aspiring toward sunlight.

I could hardly believe I was capable of producing such a thing after the rose bush.

Eyes wide, I took a steadying breath and comforted the earth.

The forest seemed to exhale in time with me.

Crackling surrounded us as the brambles flattened to the ground.

The thorns fell from the vines in a soft clatter.

Soon, the tangle was reduced to a peculiar carpet around us. Peculiar, but harmless.

“I am the forest,” I offered in a weak breath.

Eoin’s brow knitted, glancing from me to the growth encircling us. Despite being unsettled, he offered the kindness of tucking silvery hair behind my ear and tipping my face up to examine me.

“What could possibly prey on that beautiful mind of yours?”

The gesture shouldn’t have felt as delightful as it did. My sisters whispered in the branches like an ornery gust of wind. I turned from him, ushering him behind me. “We’re nearly at the spot.”

I had chosen this grove with care. A human would have never found such a verdant location on their own.

Here, the trees twisted higher and spread further; the grass was softer, the flowers brighter.

A crystal-clear pond lay at the center, fed by a spring that pulsed beneath the earth like a heartbeat.

The steady thud of his boots paused behind me. He searched his surroundings with reverent intimidation before meeting my questioning gaze.

“I may not be afraid, but it doesn’t feel proper for me to be here,” he admitted in a hushed voice. “This place—it feels strange. It’s for those like you .”

Always observant. He didn’t plow through the world like other humans I’d encountered. No, he watched. He reflected.

“You are safe and welcome,” I said resolutely. “So long as you are with me, you belong.” I returned to him with soundless steps until I was tilting my head back to hold his eyes. I slipped my fingers into his. “Do you believe me?”

His lips parted, his honeyed eyes flickering over me. “You’ve yet to lead me astray, little niamh. If I am here, then I trust you.”

My heart swelled. I wanted to lean closer, to press my cheek to his chest and bask in the warmth of his pulse, but he looked past me and tensed suddenly.

Following his gaze, I found a small family of deer entering the grove—a doe with twin fawns.

The creatures regarded us for only a moment before proceeding toward the pond.

“Come,” I whispered, tugging Eoin in the direction of the deer.

“I’ll frighten them.”

“You’re no hunter,” I said, throwing a teasing grin over my shoulder.

The deer did not flee upon our approach—on the contrary, the fawns trotted closer curiously.

The mother bowed her head in deference to me before returning to her tranquil drink from the pond.

I extended a hand, stroking the soft head of the nearest fawn, only to have the other bleat and stamp its hooves in protest for attention.

Eoin chuckled, tentatively mirroring my action. The second fawn regarded him with suspicious stillness before ducking its head under his palm, unafraid. The soft wonder on his face made my breath catch.

“Incredible,” he murmured, smiling at me as though I’d given him another gift.

The fawns were not content to stay still for long. One backed up and shook its head playfully, and the other followed suit. The two of them bounded off together around the pond, chasing one way and then hopping in the other direction.

“I’ve never seen such carefree creatures,” Eoin said.

“They know they are safe here.”

The doe calmly lifted her head from the pond and exited the grove, her fawns circling her as their game continued, unbroken. For a few long moments after they disappeared, Eoin still stared after them.

I approached the pond, kneeling to slip my hand under the water.

Eoin sensed my stare upon him. Not breaking his gaze, I took hold of the hem of my dress, wading into the water.

It lapped against me like a kiss of coolness, plastering the lighter-than-air fabric of my gown against my ankles.

The pond was deep at its center, with water so pure you could see right to the bottom where tiny tench fish darted between moss-covered rocks.

“Come and dance with me,” I called out, whirling back to face him.

“In there?” Eoin barked a laugh. “I’ll freeze, are you mad?”

My smile turned wicked. “You’re as cautious as a child.”

After a moment of hesitation, he submitted to my coaxing and knelt by the bank to slip his hand into the water. He tensed at the sensation, then relaxed. The bewilderment on his face was charming—his wonderment seemed in unlimited supply during our times together.

“See? It’s perfectly warm,” I said. And it would remain that way, so long as he stayed by my side.

Stepping before him, I unfastened his cloak, biting back a grimace at the slight sting of the iron clasp against my skin.

My forwardness earned an alarmed look, but his gaze then fell longingly to the water, glittering with refractions of dawn’s first rays.

He dragged a hand over his face, grinning and shaking his head.

“Well, I will not stand here and be called a child.” Eoin set aside the wooden carving to tear off his boots and tunic, much to my delight.

I backed away as he waded into the pond, my heart pounding with a wild glee.

Eoin chased me, catching me around the waist and making me squeal with laughter.

I wriggled and kicked with threats that were as potent as wet paper until he at last set me back on my feet, his mirth buried into my neck.

I turned, finding him submerged to his waist, and rivets of water running down his toned arms and chest. I was delightfully aware of how his eyes drifted downward, the delicate fabric of my gown all but disappearing as the water lapped just below my breasts.

Birdsong and rustling leaves gathered in the silence, surrounding us better than any musicians. I danced, shutting my eyes and throwing up my arms, swirling my heavy skirts in the deep water. There was always music in the woods, for anyone careful enough to hear it.

“Don’t humans dance?” I asked, drifting closer to him.

As he watched me dance—the way my sisters and I always did, joyously and untethered—something gave in Eoin’s polite mannerisms. In perhaps his boldest act since meeting me years ago, he put his arms out and intercepted me.

“Not like that,” he said, positioning me.

When I looked up at his face, I swore I could melt into his golden-brown eyes. I’d certainly die if he ever looked at anyone else with such smoldering tenderness.

Our breathing fell into sync, the two of us finding a new, playful dance.

He lifted his arm and twirled me, grinning as I let my body sink into our invisible rhythm at his lead.

Peace settled into my heart like never before.

I might have held onto him forever if he hadn’t interrupted the sounds of the forest.

“If only I could smuggle you into the village, my little rose. I could show the same hospitality that you have so offered me,” Eoin murmured, his voice a gentle rumble like earth shifting.

“It’s not a matter of hospitality on your part.

I cannot leave the forest.” I reached up to trace his jaw with my fingertips.

“You must understand, then, why my sisters and I are so protective of our home. It is ours by right, and all we have. Humans stake claims wherever they travel, while creatures of the forest cannot stray far.”

Eoin frowned. “What would happen to you? If you stepped out of these woods, I mean.”

I dropped my gaze to our hands, still clasped. Two worlds intertwined. “I am the forest. Less than a day away from it could drain everything I am,” I offered in a low voice. “It would be painful, to say the least.”