Page 27 of Little Red Riding Hood (The GriMM Tales #1)

Red snorted through another gulp of wine.

“ Pah ! He made it very clear when we were young children that I was beneath him. I tried again and again to talk to him, but he wasn’t interested.

” Red took another swig, and almost went for another, but Wim snatched the bottle from him.

“Though, I have to admit, it’s true what they say.

Makellos is the most beautiful person in the whole kingdom. ”

A loud rumble came from Wim’s throat.

Red laughed. “It’s not like that. I do not desire Makellos, I’m only envious of his beauty.

” Red tugged on his hair. He’d spent his childhood yanking on the straw, praying it would transform into black silk.

His hand was quickly caught by Wim’s larger one, completely enclosing it.

Then, with his other arm, Wim reached around to grab Red’s waist.

Before he knew it, Red was flying through the air—Wim lifted him as easily as a doll, to place him on his lap. A small sound of shock escaped Red’s lips. Wim pulled him even closer, and Red’s heart began to beat impossibly fast.

“This perfect beauty you envy sounds dull as dishwater. Soft white skin can’t compare to an archer’s hands.” Wim traced the palm of Red’s hand, circling the small calluses from his bow. “And hair as black as night is nothing special next to sunshine caught in copper.”

“Oh please, you can’t possibly pretend to like my hair!”

“Like? Sweetheart, I love your hair,” Wim breathed into his ear, entwining his fingers in Red’s tangled mop. “Though it does often stick up in random directions.”

“Hey!”

“But luckily for you, I like the wild look.”

Wim threaded his fingers through Red’s apparently wild hair. He cradled Red’s face again, and Red leaned into the touch.

“Want to know what I love even more than your hair?”

“Okay,” Red whispered, then swallowed.

Wim’s thumb brushed beneath Red’s right eye. He pulled back to stare into it. “This eye of yours. Like… rich brandy in candlelight. Or fresh honey straight from the hive.” He tilted his head. “And… well… like those autumn leaves I run through as a wolf.”

Red snorted, though his throat tightened. If his tongue wasn’t tied, he’d have teased Wim for fancying himself a poet.

Wim’s tone softened to silk. “And this one…” His thumb shifted to Red’s left eye. “Like winter frost on a clear night. The two of them together… most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

The words knocked the air from Red’s lungs.

His chest constricted. Without thinking, he surged forward, pressing his lips to Wim’s.

A sound of surprise rumbled through Wim’s chest, but then large hands gripped Red’s waist, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, grew hungrier. Red’s fingers tangled in Wim’s hair as Wim’s tongue swept into his mouth, tasting of wine and want.

Heat blazed between them, and Red had the mad urge to rip off all of his clothes.

He shifted in Wim’s lap, desperate to get closer, to feel more of him.

“Sweetheart,” Wim growled against his lips, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

Red’s head spun, a delicious, intoxicating desire coursing through his veins. Every touch of Wim’s hands sent sparks across his skin, and he found himself pressing closer, chasing that heat. Wim kissed him again, and Red’s bravery grew with every press of his lips.

“You know.” Red traced a finger down Wim’s chest. “You put ideas in my head earlier, wolf.”

“Oh?” Wim’s voice rumbled through Red’s entire body.

“When you described me treating you like an obedient dog at my command.” The words came out bolder than Red would normally dare, wine loosening his tongue.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” A deep growl vibrated from Wim’s chest. His grip tightened on Red’s waist. “To have a big bad wolf at your mercy? And what would you order me to do?”

Red leaned in close to Wim’s ear, the wolf’s beard scraping against his cheek.

“I’d have you on your knees, and then I’d make you use that wicked tongue of yours until I’m screaming so loud the whole forest—” The world tilted suddenly, and Red swayed in Wim’s lap, his words cutting off as he lost his balance.

Strong arms caught him instantly. A hiccup burst from Red’s lips, followed by another. He pressed his hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the giggles that bubbled up uncontrollably.

Wim pulled back, surveying Red’s face with concern. “Just how much wine have you had? I forget you’re just a little thing.”

“I might have had the first bottle all to myself, while you were cooking dinner.” Another hiccup escaped between Red’s fingers, and he dissolved into more giggles, falling forward to rest his forehead against Wim’s shoulder.

Wine was so much fun. Red should drink it more often .

He spied the bottle next to Wim on the log, and stretched his arm out to grab it.

“I don’t think so.” Wim blocked his efforts.

Red huffed, crossing his arms. “You’re so bossy . Why do you always have to tell me what to do?” His lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I’m not a child.”

“Could’ve fooled me, with that face you’re pulling.” Wim’s tone held both amusement and exasperation. “Come on, you need some water.”

“ No .” The word came out as a needy whine. Red’s body moved of its own accord, hips rolling forward to grind against Wim. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through him, and he gasped at the sensation of his hardness pressing against Wim’s.

Wim’s head fell back, eyes squeezed shut. “ Fuck .” He drew in a ragged breath. “You’re making this fucking difficult, sweetheart.”

Before Red could protest, strong hands gripped his waist and lifted him up. The world spun briefly before he found himself deposited onto the log. The sudden loss of contact left him cold and a pathetic sound came from his lips.

Wim stood, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as he stalked over to their packs. Red watched Wim through wine-hazed eyes, admiring the way his muscles flexed with each movement as he searched through their belongings.

“ Damn .” Wim held up both empty waterskins, shaking his head. “They’re both dry.”

“I don’t need water.” Red resisted stamping his foot, though it was a challenge. “I need you .”

And god, how that was true! Red’s rock-hard cock begged to be touched, and Red slipped his hand underneath his ass, in case it got carried away of its own accord.

Wim fell to the ground in front of Red and squeezed his leg.

“Right, pay attention, sweetheart. I’m going to fetch some fresh water from the stream.

When I get back, if you’ve cleared your head and drink enough to satisfy me…

” He paused. “Then I’ll happily do anything your wicked little heart desires. ”

Wim’s mouth blazed a trail across Red’s jaw, teeth grazing sensitive skin until he reached Red’s ear. A gasp caught in Red’s throat as Wim captured the lobe between sharp teeth, sending shivers down his spine.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, Red watched as Wim stepped back and stripped off his clothes.

The firelight painted golden streaks across his muscled form, highlighting every curve and plane.

Dark hair dusted his chest, trailing down his stomach to…

Red’s mouth went dry. Wim’s proud prick was thick and hard, and Red’s mind filled with possibilities of what it might feel like inside him.

Would he dare ask? The wine still coursing through his veins whispered, yes, yes, yes!

Wim’s form blurred and shifted, fur sprouting across his body as he transformed into the massive grey wolf. He shook himself once before managing to fling his pack onto his back.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, voice deeper in wolf form.

Red’s hand had wandered without his permission, palming himself through his breeches. A rumbling growl made him freeze, caught in the act.

“You better save that for me, Little Red.” Wim’s eyes glowed in the firelight. “Unless you want to find out what happens to naughty little things who don’t follow instructions.”

Red’s lips curved into a deliberate smirk which he hoped was vaguely sultry. “Well then, you better be quick, wolf.”

A blink of an eye later, Wim was gone, disappeared into the dark abyss.

Red was alone. Alone, again.

He stared into the fire, enjoying the show the shadows offered as they danced around the edges.

They twisted into strange shapes that Red’s wine-addled mind couldn’t quite make sense of.

He’d never noticed how loud the forest was at night—every crack of a branch or rustle of leaves made him jump.

His heart refused to settle into a steady rhythm.

Back at the palace, he’d spent countless nights alone in the attic, perfectly content with only his own company. Now the solitude pressed in around him like a physical weight. The fire crackled, sending sparks into the darkness, and Red found himself counting the seconds until Wim’s return.

A twig snapped somewhere in the darkness, and Red was abruptly reminded of the night he met Wim, when the wolf was stalking him in the shadows.

But he was safe here, wasn’t he? Wim wouldn’t have left him if he wasn’t safe. Then again, where the fuck was he? Why wasn’t he back yet? How long had it even been? Minutes? Hours?

What if something had happened to him?

Or perhaps after you threw yourself at him, he’s run a mile.

Another noise.

Red’s head whipped around, scanning the treeline. Nothing. Just shadows and more shadows, writhing like living things. The wine made everything blur at the edges, reality becoming soft and uncertain.

Was that movement? There—just beyond the fire’s reach? Red squinted, trying to focus his vision. The darkness seemed to pulse, to breathe. His fingers clutched at his red cloak, pulling it tighter around his shoulders.

Another sound—closer this time. A whisper of movement, like fabric dragging across leaves.

Was this a cruel trick of the Queen’s Shadow? To scare him into wetting his breeches before he laughed in Red’s face?