Page 8 of Consumed (Shot in the Dark)

Cursing in pain, Eoin pushed himself up carefully. Drops of his blood hit the ground. I quaked from the rush of energy that burst through my core. The earth drank his blood greedily— I drank it greedily through the roots beneath us, though he couldn’t know it.

So much like the day he had cursed me with more consciousness and desire than I could bear.

The brambles receded into the ground. Eoin regarded me with wide eyes. I wanted to gash him deeper, let him bleed out until every last bit of him belonged to the forest, but—no. I couldn’t. Especially not when he looked at me with such concern on his beautiful face.

I breathed shakily. My bare feet were silent on the mossy ground as I approached him. “I didn’t mean—”

Eoin flinched when I reached for him. I stopped short, hating the pinch of emotion in my voice. “Let me see, please.”

Kneeling, I extended a hand once more. Eoin met my gaze, relenting. I gently pulled his hands onto my lap, turning the palms up to expose the wounds along his arms. The gashes were many, but most were not deep—just painful enough to remind him of my power here.

I bowed down, pressing my lips to the first wound. Eoin’s breath hitched, but he did not pull away. So I continued, kissing every cut in silence until his skin had mended under my intention, and only a few tears in his clothes remained.

“I’m sorry,” Eoin breathed. “I upset you.”

I shook my head. “Forgive me. I forgot myself. Feeling is… It doesn’t come naturally to my kind, Eoin.” I met his gaze. “And you make me feel a storm inside me when I’m near you.”

His brow knit, but he gave a cautious nod, as though understanding—or trying to. He watched me with that look—the one torn between keeping me at arm’s length and pouncing on me.

Then, I saw it—a line of crimson curling under the shadow of his jaw. Guilt tightened its vice. Another injury from my outburst.

“You’re still bleeding,” I murmured, brushing the reddened area. “May I?”

There was a pause before I received a gruff nod.

I moved in slowly. Eoin shivered as I brushed tangled strands of his hair back from his throat.

I said nothing more before pressing my lips to the gash.

His skin was so warm there. The motion was reverent, penitent—but I dwelled too long.

My mouth lingered there over the healed skin, my body anchored against his.

I was suddenly aware of our bodies; how I had crawled halfway into his lap, and Eoin was rigid, but not with fear now.

My very realization seemed to make something shift in the air, and the silence rippled with a tension that crackled in every inch between us.

Eoin turned his head, ever so slightly, and our mouths were so close, I could practically hear the question demanding to be answered.

“We can’t.” His voice was a gravelly, strained thing that made my stomach flutter.

But his calloused hands were on my waist—not pushing me away, but holding me in place. His breath deepened.

“But you want to,” I whispered back.

Eoin’s fingers twitched against me, trembling as he felt the curves hidden beneath my gossamer slip. I should not have felt such heat in my belly—I was not meant to experience such primal lust. My sisters and I were guardians of this sacred forest, not common whores.

But when his touch drifted beneath the hem of my gown, I thought I might perish from the raw pleasure of it.

And then he closed the space, pressing his lips to mine.

This kiss was not tentative or apologetic—it was fierce, bruising. It was want . There was a hunger blossoming, restraint severing. I felt him give in to me, piece by piece.

My hands moved to the strong column of his throat, plucking at the collar of his wool shirt, exposing more of his skin, flushed and warm.

I trailed kisses down his neck, claiming him and tasting him with every touch.

He crushed his arms around me like he might be able to fuse us together—moonlight and sunlight colliding.

A simple shift of weight, and then Eoin had rolled over me, my legs spread beneath his. Willing prey to his hunt. The strap of my gown slipped off my shoulder, and he pounced to kiss my exposed shoulder.

The forest crackled with life around us—saplings pushing from the frozen ground. Crimson roses blossomed, carpeting the ground in a widening radius with every moan that passed my lips.

“Say my name,” I demanded, though it came out as little more than a whisper.

He did. He said it like a prayer to the stars.

Again and again. A feral glint seared his gaze—I adored the animal in him.

Something dark and wild that matched the monster in me.

He was greedy in the way all humans would look at a creature like me—to keep me as his own personal secret like some sinful source of pride.

For him alone, I would gladly chain myself.

“Don’t lie anymore,” I panted. “Don’t pretend you don’t wish to possess me. To claim me as yours.”

Eoin’s hand hitched beneath the fabric pooling around my thighs, squeezing me hard enough to pull air from my lungs.

I wound my hands into his hair, arching into him.

We were both breathless and reckless in the same way, transforming between the trees around us.

We were wicked and wonderful and— stars , I could scarcely think with his body pressed over mine.

“You belong to me,” I said. “You always have. Just as I am yours. You see?”

His lips were still on mine when I felt him remember the world around us. A pause, a tremor of consideration. Slowly, he pulled away to look down at me like a man coming up for air before drowning. Locks of golden-brown hair fell over his face.

Come back. Come back to me.

“No, I-I belong to someone else,” he said slowly.

I stared at him, my lips still swollen and waiting.

The energy between us still hummed, but its rhythm was broken.

Eoin’s gaze darted around the clearing, remembering where he was and catching briefly on the field of roses my desire had conjured around us.

The blossoms stirred in an icy breeze, carrying their sweet aroma around us.

“I gave her my word,” he went on, his voice thick. “I promised her I’d come back to her.”

Eoin pried himself off me, though not without some reluctance. The winter air cut against me where his body had been moments ago.

My chest ached like it was collapsing in on itself. I scrambled to sit up, not bothering to adjust my disheveled gown as I touched Eoin’s leg.

“Your soul is starving for something that girl can never give you,” I told him.

Eoin gazed at me for a long time—just long enough to give me hope. “You and I… We’re not the same. How could we ever…?” He shook his head and swallowed hard, shame replacing lust. When his eyes met mine again, something had shuttered in him. Something closed off to me forever.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I won’t make any excuses.”

He laid his hand over mine. “Please reconsider allowing her into the forest. I want you to be a part of my life. But she’s to be my bride soon.”

Love was an abomination. How could something that made me want to sing and screech with laughter now turn to poison in my chest? I felt like I was dying as he slowly pulled himself to his feet and straightened his clothes, putting space between us.

A tear rolled off my chin. I caught it in my palm and closed my hand into a tight fist. I felt it harden within my grasp. As I unfurled my fingers, a perfect little gem sat in the middle of my palm, winking in the light. I stood, holding it out to Eoin.

“Please, stay with me,” I said in a hushed voice.

Eoin accepted the gem, turning it in the winter sunlight between his finger and thumb. He regarded it with a dark scrutiny he no longer masked. Did he understand? Did he see the value of the gift I offered? The endless joy we could have if he would only say yes ?

“Brianna is waiting for me,” he said.

Giving me one last, shadowed look, Eoin turned. I let him walk away.

And in the space where he had almost chosen me, I sank to the ground and wept.