Page 15 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

Red lifted his chin. “What’s one more battle scar to a true adventurer?” he said brightly, though the thought of angry red lines rendering his face even uglier made him want to cry.

“Is that what we’re calling your graceless tumble through that tunnel? An adventure?”

Before Red knew what was happening, Wim’s fingers tangled in his hair, ruffling his mess of strawberry-blond strands. The gentle touch sent sparks dancing across Red’s scalp, down his spine. His breath caught in his throat as Wim pulled him into a tight embrace.

Red’s face pressed against Wim’s broad chest. The wolf’s scent—pine needles, earth, and wildness —wrapped around him like a blanket. His head spun, thoughts scattering like autumn leaves in a storm. The steady thump of Wim’s heart echoed through Red’s body, and heat bloomed across his cheeks.

What was happening to him? His legs felt like jelly, his stomach doing strange flips. Perhaps he’d lost more blood than he’d realised from the tunnel scrapes.

Before Red could process these bewildering sensations, a black blur launched itself at Wim. Toby crashed into them with an excited yip, breaking the embrace.

Wim dropped to the ground with an exaggerated “Oof!” as the wolf pup pounced on his chest. His deep laugh rang through the clearing as he scratched behind Toby’s ears. The pup’s tail wagged frantically, his injured leg forgotten in his joy at finding his missing pack member.

“Miss me that much, did you?” Wim’s voice held such warmth as he ruffled the pup’s fur. Toby responded by licking Wim’s face enthusiastically, drawing another rich laugh from the man.

Red pressed a hand to his still-racing heart, willing it to slow. The dizziness lingered, even though Wim no longer held him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Wim sprawled in the dirt, playing with the pup as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“These two are like peas in a pod,” Astrid said, appearing beside him. “They have the same mental age, apparently.”

Red laughed. It certainly seemed that way, currently.

“Tobias used to follow Wim everywhere. We’d call him Wim’s shadow. Before he left, Wim was confined to his cottage for several months, and Toby tried to sneak there every single fucking day.”

Red liked this kid more and more by the second.

Panting, Wim stopped rolling around with Tobias, leaning backwards on one arm. “Stay the night,” he said to Astrid. “Go back tomorrow. That’s if you…” His face twisted. “Feel safe enough. Round me.”

“Can you still feel the onset of your condition? Do you still get that warning period?”

Wim nodded. “Aye, but I’d understand if—”

“Then of course we’ll stay, Wim. We’d love that.”

A sharp unpleasantness suddenly coiled in Red’s stomach—he’d presumed that he’d get Wim to himself again, as soon as the pup was found. But it appeared he’d be sharing Wim a little longer.

That’s perfectly fine, Red. There’s no reason to care.

A soft bump against his leg scattered his brooding thoughts. Tobias gazed up at him with dark, pleading eyes, his small wolf form pressing closer.

“Will you play with me later?” he asked, so sweet and so hopeful .

Red’s breath caught. He dropped to one knee, bringing himself level with those earnest eyes. His fingers sank into impossibly soft fur as he scratched behind Tobias’s ears.

“I’d love to,” Red whispered, any earlier negativity melting away as Tobias’s tail wagged with unbridled joy. The pup butted his head against Red’s chest with such enthusiasm that Red toppled backwards onto his bottom.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” Wim called out, eyes dancing with amusement. “He’ll have you wrapped around his little paw in no time.”

R ed swept his riding hood around his shoulders with a flourish, nose pointed towards the stars. He minced across the forest floor, each step a perfect imitation of the Queen’s affected gait.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall…” He pitched his voice into her nasal drawl. “Who is the most perfect of them all?”

Tobias rolled across the ground, clutching his sides with laughter. Even Astrid’s shoulders shook as she tried to maintain her composure.

“Oh, what’s this?” Red snatched up a wooden spoon from the cooking pot, brandishing it like a sceptre. “A peasant dares to smile in my presence? Guards! Off with their head!” He swished the spoon through the air with dramatic flair.

“Does she really say that?” Tobias gasped between giggles.

“Oh, worse.” Red draped himself across a log, one hand pressed to his forehead. “Last week she had the royal gardener flogged because his roses bloomed pink instead of red.”

Wim lounged against the wall, watching Red’s performance with a gleam in his eye that made Red’s chest flutter. He pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on Tobias’s rapt expression .

“Tell us more about the palace!” The boy bounced in place, dark eyes wide with excitement.

Red adjusted his hood like a crown. “Well, there was the time she made all the maids crawl backwards for a week because one of them tripped over a bucket of water.” He demonstrated, scuttling across the ground in an exaggerated crab-walk that sent Tobias into fresh peals of laughter.

“And then—” Red leapt to his feet, twirling.

“She insisted everyone speak in rhyme during the winter solstice feast, just to entertain her. The poor cook nearly fainted trying to announce each course.” He cleared his throat, adopting a trembling voice.

“H-here comes the roasted pheasant fair, served with herbs and special care…”

Tobias clapped his hands in delight, and even Astrid couldn’t contain her laughter now. Red couldn’t help but bask in their attention, the decades of watching the Queen’s ridiculous behaviour providing endless material for his mockery.

“Alright,” said Astrid. “Time for bed. We leave at first light. You’re going to have a lot of apologising to do when we round up your search party, Toby.”

Tobias’s face fell. “But I haven’t even got to hear about the Queen’s son, Makellos, yet! Is he truly the most beautiful man Falchovari has ever seen?”

“Oh, him? He’s boring. No exciting tales about him.” Red must have inserted some venom into his words, because Wim tilted his head.

Red had tried many a time in his childhood and adolescence to befriend the Queen’s perfect son, and had been rejected more times than he cared to think about.

The uptight man kept to himself, but had the whole palace under his spell.

Red wasn’t entirely surprised—the man was the very picture of beauty, with his skin as pure as white snow, and his silky, ebony-black hair.

What Red would give for even a fraction of his allure…

Astrid climbed to her feet. She’d dressed properly once they got back, and Red’s eye kept catching on her necklace—a cord with what looked like wolves’ teeth threaded through. Were they the teeth of her enemies? The woman’s presence was formidable even before the morbid accessory.

“You’ll need your energy for tomorrow,” Astrid told her son.

“But I’m not sorry for leaving!” Toby remained seated, folding his arms. “I need to help Wim!”

Red knelt beside Tobias, his heart twisting at the boy’s fierce declaration. The child’s devotion to Wim struck a chord inside Red, he couldn’t deny it.

“Listen.” Red took Tobias’s hand in his. So much smaller. Red already felt a kinship with this little wolf pup, even though they’d spent but a handful of hours together. “I promise I’ll help Wim in your place.”

Tobias’s eyes narrowed. “You swear?”

“Cross my heart.” Red traced an X over his chest, careful to keep his gaze fixed on the boy rather than risk meeting Wim’s eyes. His cheeks burned at making such a statement, but something in him couldn’t bear to let this child down.

“No, no.” Tobias shook his head. “You have to do a proper pack promise.” He stuck out his little finger. “Hook your finger with mine and repeat after me. By the moon’s silver light…”

“By the moon’s silver light…” Red echoed, linking their fingers.

“And the forest’s ancient might…”

“And the forest’s ancient might…”

“I swear to help Wim find his cure, or may wolves chase me day and night!”

Red’s lips twitched at the childish rhyme, but he repeated it solemnly.

Tobias beamed. “Now you have to howl.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“You do! It’s part of the promise!”

Red glanced at Astrid, who raised an eyebrow in confirmation. Swallowing his dignity, he tilted his head back and let out what he hoped was a passable howl .

Tobias dissolved into giggles. “That sounded like a dying cat!”

“Hey now!” Red ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’d like to see you do better.”

Tobias demonstrated with a surprisingly decent howl of his own, which Red refused to admit put his attempt to shame.

“And I’ll come and visit you at some point.” The bold words tumbled out before Red could stop them. But it was alright—this pup would forget all about Red in no time. “I’ll tell you all about the rumours of Hallin’s Plumed Menace.”

“ The Plumed Menace? ” Toby’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “The one who killed Hallin’s crown prince?”

Red winked. “He leaves a single feather atop his victims.”

“Alright, that’s enough. He already has nightmares without adding to his list of monsters, thank you, Red.”

Tobias rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but allowed his mother to guide him away to where she’d set up her bedroll.

Red eyed his own, just as a chilly gust of wind blew through the camp. It would be cold again tonight, but there wouldn’t be any chance of a repeat of last night’s sleeping arrangements, not after Astrid’s reaction this morning.

He said he couldn’t stand the sound of your teeth chattering, that was all!

Using both hands, Red rubbed at his face. These confusing thoughts were doing his head in. He climbed into his bedroll, pulling the fabric tightly around him, and shut his eyes. Tomorrow, he’d go back to calling Wim an insufferable mangy mutt. No more distractions.

A soft thump beside Red made him freeze. He cracked open one eye to see Wim spreading his bedroll mere inches from Red’s own.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Red propped himself up on his elbows .

“Setting up camp.” Wim didn’t look up from smoothing out the fabric. “Unless you’d prefer I sleep in wolf form and shed all over you again?”

Red’s heart performed a frenetic tap dance. “That’s not—I meant why are you setting up here ?”

Maybe Astrid had told Wim he needed to sleep closest to Red, so that he’d be the one eaten if Wim turned feral in the middle of the night.

“Astrid snores.” Wim’s lips quirked. “Like a bear with a cold. Trust me, you don’t want to be anywhere near that.”

“There’s plenty of space by the fire.”

“Ground’s all bumpy over there.” Wim stretched out on his bedroll, folding his arms behind his head. The movement pulled his shirt tight across his chest. “Besides, you’re hopeless at keeping warm. Consider this a favour—I won’t have to listen to your teeth chattering all night.”

Red flopped onto his back, yanking his hood over his face. “Fine. But if you snore, I’m pushing you into the stream.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

That word was starting to do crazy things to Red every time he heard it, though he knew Wim only used it to annoy him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his racing pulse to slow.

The rustle of fabric indicated Wim settling in beside him. Red could feel the heat radiating from the other man’s body, calling to him like a siren song in the chilly night air.

This is going to be a very long night.

“Has Astrid really killed enough wolves to make a necklace of their teeth?” Red whispered as quietly as he could. This shift in conversation would steer them towards safer ground.

He glanced at Wim, only to find the man struggling to suppress a chuckle, his shoulders shaking as he barely contained his amusement.

With a grin, Wim finally let out a hearty laugh.

“She looks scary, but Astrid’s soft as butter, really.

The teeth thing? That’s just what we do.

When our milk teeth fall out, we hang onto them if we can.

Then when we find our mate, we give them the teeth instead of rings.

Most of us make them into trinkets, like what Astrid’s wearing. ”

“Those were milk teeth? They were huge!”

“Have a closer look at the size of mine next time.”

Red would rather not get too close to those razor-sharp incisors.

“Most of us don’t bother wearing them. They’d get lost too easily when we’re shifting all the time. But Astrid lost her wife, so she likes keeping them close. Tobias wears them sometimes when he’s missing his mum.”

A heavy weight settled in Red’s chest. Loss carved deeper wounds than any blade.

Every morning he touched the red hood, wondering about the mother who’d left him, imagining what could have been.

And here was little Tobias, clutching his mother’s teeth, trying to hold on to memories before they faded like footprints in fresh snow.

Red’s fingers brushed against the worn fabric at his neck. The hood held no answers, no whispered secrets of who he was or why he’d been abandoned. Just thread and cloth, as silent as the palace steps where they’d found him.

His throat tightened. At least the boy had known love, had memories to cherish. Had someone who’d wanted him enough to leave a piece of themselves behind.

Disgust flooded his system, overriding his jealousy. Was he truly going to be resentful of this kid’s childhood memories?

Pull yourself together, Red.

“So, you wildlings mate for life, do you?” said Red, trying for a playful tone.

“What’s so funny about that? Loving someone forever?”

“It’s the stuff of tales. Not real life.”

For a long moment, Wim shuffled about. “I hope someone proves you wrong someday, Red.”

Something in Wim’s tone made Red’s stomach flutter, and he found himself wishing, just for a moment, that he could believe in such things .

A long silence stretched, and Red had almost drifted off when Wim’s deep voice next rumbled through the darkness.

“By the way, loved your wolf howl back there, sweetheart. Sounded real… delicate.”

“Oh, stop.” Red yanked his hood lower, grateful for the darkness hiding his burning cheeks.

“I could show you how, you know.” The bedroll rustled as Wim shifted closer. “Got to use your throat properly. You were doing it through your nose.”

“I was not using my nose.” Red rolled onto his side, facing away from Wim. “And I don’t need howling lessons from a mangy mutt.”

“Mangy? I’ll have you know my coat is extremely well groomed.”

“That’s not something to brag about.”

“Says the one who spends twenty minutes fussing with his hood to make it just so.”

“I do not— How dare— It needs to sit properly!”

A low chuckle vibrated through the small space between them. “Keep it down, sweetheart. Some of us want to sleep.”

“You started it, you prick,” Red hissed, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile from his voice.