Page 5 of Consumed (Shot in the Dark)

E oin made a small noise at the back of his throat—surprise, then pleasure.

The forest hummed in harmony, pulsing in time with my heart. The warmth of his lips cut through the autumn chill, making me feel as though the most brilliant light was glowing within me.

As my arms tightened around him, he deepened our kiss. His hands settled around my waist, drawing me firmly against him.

This was right .

Mine , I thought. All mine .

But far too soon, he startled and let me go. Frowning, I tried to lean up for another kiss, only to have him grasp my shoulders to keep me at arm’s length.

“It’s—that’s—” Eoin sputtered. His voice was caught in a breathless register, his eyes wild. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?” I traced his knuckles, letting a soft smile curve my lips. “Didn’t you enjoy it? ”

A flush was rising into his face, and the shock began to melt into confusion. His brown eyes skated over my expression in an attempt to read me. I wished he would for a moment—I wished Eoin could see straight through my passive mask to the sweet agony burdened inside me.

“I’ve daydreamed about it,” he admitted, words choking out like a sinful confession. He released me and raked a hand through his damp hair. “For years. But I never imagined actually —” He blinked hard, eyes beginning to go distant. “I don’t even know what you really are.”

“But you know who I am,” I reminded him. “You’ve said it yourself.”

With my fingers soft against his cheek, I guided him gently downward.

“Come here,” I murmured.

He resisted for a moment, unsure of himself—unsure of me. But something in him yielded, allowing me to draw him down and cradle his head in my lap, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like we weren’t divided by everything we were.

For a moment, I allowed myself to believe it.

I threaded my fingers into his golden-brown hair, slow and steady.

Eoin’s eyes fluttered, growing heavy. Those long lashes flickered gold in the early sunlight.

I hummed a song for him—just for him. Something ancient, something quiet.

His breathing slowed, his doubt unfurling like wind against water .

The weight of his body against mine was everything I craved. Couldn’t he feel it too? How we were something rare and wild and wonderful?

“No one else knows.” My voice was soft as silk. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Tension rippled through his shoulders. His words were a low rumble. “I don’t know what it means. What you mean.”

I leaned over him, my pale hair falling like a veil between us and the forest. “Don’t let your humanity preclude you from simple pleasures,” I whispered with an impish smile.

Eoin must’ve sensed my smile—he cracked a small grin, too. A small, unconscious moan slipped from his throat as I worked my fingers through his hair.

Although the sun would soon signal the new day, his eyelids fell halfway, a languid sigh streaming through his parted lips—all thoughts of his duties rinsed from his mind. So relaxed. So at home.

Stay with me, I thought. You are happy here.

Stay , the forest echoed. Stay, stay .

It was the pulse of a heartbeat growing stronger. Vibrant flowers and fresh ferns bloomed through the grove. Stay . A home pulsing with life that would never fade, never die. Stay, stay.

“A niamh’s tear is a precious gift,” I murmured, leaning closer to him. “A pure gift. One that requires nothing in return. You can feel like this forever.”

For a moment, Eoin relaxed further as though he might fall asleep. But his eyes snapped open and widened. He sat up suddenly, gasping for breath. He gave me an odd, tense look before composing himself with visible care.

I remembered with a sinking heart that he was a man who had been told too many frightening myths about this place. About me .

“The sun is rising,” he said, each word clipped and breathless. He raked his gaze around us, settling on his discarded clothes and axe. “I should go. The day’s nearly upon us. Someone will come looking for me if I don’t return soon.”

The day. As though our time together were nothing but a dream in the wee hours of the morning. Would I only have him while he was entranced? Never a full life. Never real.

A spark of wrath roared through my chest, and I had the sudden urge to abandon him in the grove—simply melt into the foliage.

If he truly held the rarity that I fawned over, then he could wander the forest until he was part of it—until he was begging for me to save him, voice ragged and echoing through the woods.

It would be easy to forget him for a few days, I thought cruelly.

But I couldn’t do that. Not to my Eoin.

Early golden light painted the sculpted muscles of his back as he bent to gather his things. He dressed, tucking his tunic into his still-wet trousers. I supposed he would simply explain that away by claiming he took a fall into the creek. Erasing me yet again.

While Eoin was still fastening his cloak around his shoulders, I picked up his axe, weighing it in my hands. Its worn iron blade glared up at me in silent threat. I angled the heavy tool a little further from my body, all too happy to pass it into Eoin’s grasp.

My smile was as passive as a doe’s as I took his free hand and led him back the way we had traveled. When the towering oaks became sparser and more sunlight penetrated the canopy, he wheeled us to a stop and took care in selecting his tree.

“What is it you’re tasked with making this time?” I asked.

“Bedframes.” Eoin circled a modest birch, its trunk not much larger than his forearm. “More mouths to house and feed every day, it seems.”

He ran his hands over the bark, tipping his head back to survey the tangle of leaves that vanished toward the heavens. My breath caught when his hands brushed over the bark—I felt the caress of his calloused palms over the small of my back. I swore I could sense the heat of his touch.

Could he see the grass at his feet stretching upward, yearning to reach him while I held my breath to keep from sighing?

Eoin turned over his shoulder, scrutinizing me with a shadowed look on his face. “You’re sure it doesn’t hurt you when I do this?”

“I feel it,” I said. “But the forest is too vast and strong for me to call it pain. You have my permission.”

Eoin nodded reverently before kneeling at the tree’s base, reciting a blessing over it.

My sisters appeared in my peripheral—nearly twelve of them, their pale faces stoic.

They perched in branches and peered around the sides of oaks, watching with their silent, piercing opal eyes.

I was not particularly surprised to see them crowding us, drawn by his blessing and the sharp tang of iron.

We always came to mourn the loss of one of our brothers.

Eoin rose to his feet, unaware of the many eyes on him as he raised his axe and swung hard.

We all flinched together as the axe swung down again, again.

It was seven impacts before the birch surrendered and fell.

He moved with the practiced ease of someone who had done this a hundred times, and I tempered my expression in front of my sisters—if not for myself, then to not give away to Eoin how many eyes were truly upon him as he labored.

Eventually, I too let myself vanish from his sight. He chopped the wood into workable pieces, loading as much as he could carry in his arms for the first journey. He turned to say farewell, only to find I had melted into the forest—standing right before him, yet invisible to mortal eyes .

“Goodbye, Róisín,” he whispered, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

The sun was full overhead, basking in a blanket of scattered grey clouds. I followed him to the edge of the forest, guarding him from the wolves that eyed him hungrily, the stinging nettle that rose toward his heels. I was the shadow he could not see, the wind at his back.

When his boots hit cobblestone instead of packed earth, I hit resistance. The hum of energy deepened as I raised my hands toward the very edge of the forest. My ears rang with the silent warning.

Go no further .

Rocking back on my heels in the dirt, I watched Eoin until he vanished from sight, another figure in the maze of houses, taverns, and stables.

Soon , I thought. Soon he will choose me .

Soon , the forest whispered, blossoming around me with the excitement of accepting a new denizen.