Page 1 of Whisper Woods (Legends of the Whisper Woods #3)

Prologue - Seff

Five Years Ago

I probably shouldn’t be here.

Scratch that—I definitely shouldn’t be here.

I just couldn’t be there anymore.

The full moon bathes the Whisper Woods in an eerie, silver light. It highlights the shadows and valleys in front of me, the densely packed trees behind me, and disguises the deathly plummet below me.

Standing at the cliff’s edge like this is dumb. But no one else would really expect anything else from me. I’m sure if I slipped and fell to my death they would no doubt laugh, “Ha, that is so Seff.” I’m not even clumsy. Or dumb. But they can’t see that. They don’t see me . Just what they want to see.

It’s probably a good thing, I guess. It means they can’t see how angry I am.

Like tonight. I just couldn’t do it.

It was just too exhausting to sit there, and play like I wasn’t furious at every single one of them for what they did to me. Did to Caelan .

It’s been three moons since he stood for membership with the Everfyr pack, stripped totally bare—emotionally and physically. And they fucking rejected him. All because his blood isn’t “pure enough.”

Fucking toxic alpha bullshit and his backwater thinking.

But that’s Colin. The asshole. And I have to kiss his ass because he’s my fucking pack leader. I’ll roll over dead before I call him alpha. And I’d like to see him make me. He knows not to push. He may have the title, but I’m younger. Stronger. I could take him.

Right before his bootlickers take me out.

Huffing a bitter laugh, I roll my shoulders to release some of the tension building there. Not that it’s any use. It’s kind of a permanent thing lately, and I hate it. This anger isn’t me . Thankfully everyone has put it down to Caelan breaking up with me after his failed pack bid. Everyone keeps giving me sad looks and half-assed apologies.

We can’t go against the pack leader . I’ve heard it in one version or another my whole life, and no one seems to ever question it, just happy to go with the flow, even if it means they are all varying shades of miserable.

Maybe I’m the problem. I just can’t seem to accept the way they can.

Fuck.

I came out here to get away from all the thoughts chasing themselves through my head. Usually it helps when the feelings get too big and I can’t keep them inside anymore. I come here to the Woods and run until I’m too exhausted to think anymore. It’s soothing, the closest thing to freedom.

Especially standing here. It feels like I’m right on the edge of the world. It makes me feel…connected. Like I can see where I belong—I’m meant to be here. For this brief moment, everything feels in balance and I can finally breathe.

Tonight…tonight, I knew if I didn’t run, I was going to punch someone. And that wouldn’t have gone over well, because that someone was going to be Cassian—Colin’s nephew and general pain in my ass. So I left the full moon gathering and ran and ran until Wolf took over and together we ran even further, until we were exhausted and he retreated, leaving me here at the cliffs.

Hopefully, the pack will think I’ve just run off to hook up with someone.

Fuck, that would be nice, though.

The weight of the full moon has my body thrumming with energy, making everything so much bigger and uncontrollable inside me. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if I found someone—someone not in the pack—to sink myself into and forget.

But out here, in the loneliest depths of the Woods, I doubt there is anyone else roaming about. Not at this time of the night on a full moon. I can’t even hear the rustle of any creatures in the trees, the calls of any birds.

It’s like the Woods are empty. There isn’t even a breeze to tickle my balls. It’s weird really .

Closing my eyes, I inhale the soothing air of the Woods deep into my lungs. Willing it to infuse my spirit, to let the magic heal the little fractures inside just enough. Again and again I suck the deep breaths in, relishing in the magic as it fills me.

After a minute—or five? I don’t know—the breeze returns, sending a tickle across my overly sensitised skin. The chill sends goose pimples springing over my ass cheeks.

It draws me back to the present, the pink lights of dawn seeping into the edges of the dark horizon. A shift in the air has my instincts switching back on. A pull of something, magic warping the energy of the space like a wave, followed by a loud crack of a stick breaking in the trees behind me. Footsteps.

My hands flex by my side, tensing into fists. There is a very good chance that whatever it is is perfectly harmless. But I’m naked on the edge of a cliff, and it doesn’t take a genius to know to be prepared.

Another breeze drifts past me, carrying the scent of whatever, whoever, has arrived. My nose twitches, trying to pinpoint the scent. I can smell the magic. It tingles in my nose, making my sinuses and mouth itch.

It’s something I’ve smelt here before. Rarely, though, and never this potently. The scent, like smoke and spice and something I can’t place has Wolf a confused mess, whimpering, and clamouring for me to find, hunt, run, hide.

There are more sounds, more movement in the trees. I keep my back to the treeline, hopefully showing whatever is there that I am neither a threat, nor threatened.

Not turning around is killing me. But also… There is a part of me that likes it. The danger. The anticipation. The hyper awareness I have prickling along my skin.

It’s watching me. I can feel it. And fuck I hope it’s some hot being watching me, because I can feel my dick hardening in the breeze. I swear the thing has a mind of its own, always making terrible decisions and getting me into trouble.

“You are not about to jump are you? That does seem like an awful waste.” Despite standing at the ready, the words make me jump. The honeyed voice wraps around me and in a heartbeat, my dick, already half hard from the danger, is as hard as a railway spike.

Fucking hell.

I kind of don’t want to turn around and face him. Despite Wolf howling to do… anything.

The moment is perfect. Anticipation skitters along my skin. I can feel the heat of his gaze on my bare skin like a touch. Heat pools low in my stomach, diffusing through my body in a heady rush.

This feels important. The seconds drip slowly, a moment stuck in time. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know I am standing on the edge of something vital to my existence and once I turn and face the being currently eyeing my ass like a juicy peach nothing will ever be the same again.

The Woods remain silent.

Only the gentlest whisper of a breeze brushes against the nape of my neck. I take another breath, his scent filling my lungs like the most potent drug, and turn to face him.

The crunching of my bare feet on the ground is loud in the otherwise stark quiet of the morning. I try to remember to do something with my face, to smile, flirt. Gods, even talk since I’m pretty sure he asked me a question. But all I can do is stare, my mouth flapping in the breeze like the idiot everyone always takes me for.

He’s tall, not quite my height but close enough. He’s nowhere near my size, though. I can tell he’s got some muscles under that shirt, but he’s not all brawny like me. Even though there is something in his aura that makes him seem… bigger. Maybe it’s the confident way he is watching me, his dark brows furrowed ever so slightly as he catalogues every single detail of me, naked in the moonlight.

He’s hiding in the shadows of the treeline, so it takes me a moment to see the scar running through his left eyebrow, over his eye and all the way down his cheek. His left eye is noticeably damaged, a solid white mark in the shadows of his face. His hair is dark, long and loose against his square jawline.

My hand twitches at my side, wanting to touch it, to pet him, to see how it looks tangled around my fingers. It’s too dark to guess his age, but the silver streak glinting in the moon suggests he might be older than me. But I don’t care .

Drawn by the sudden need to press myself against him, to feel the roughness of his clothes against my body, I take a step forward, my feet unsteady with the pulsating desires running through me.

“Seriously, are you okay?” he asks, walking a few paces closer, head cocking to the side when I wobble, my foot rolling on a particularly jagged rock. The change in his tone—no longer spiced honey, just genuine concern—breaks the spell over me.

Mostly. I can still feel it there. Humming in my veins. I’ve never been good with impulse control, but I manage to restrain myself this time, curling my hands into fists by my side, forcing my body into a relaxed stance.

He’s still looking at me, waiting patiently for a response. Any response. Like he has all night. Or, at least, whatever is left of it.

It makes me feel… something. Like for once, the bigness inside me—the too big feelings—slides into place and everything just fits. Like standing on the cliff. Only more.

“I’m fine.” I manage to choke out the words. My voice is hoarser than I realised, my throat dry from my run and the late hour. He chuckles softly, almost inaudible over the step he takes towards me, scratching at his lightly stubbled beard. There is a flash of gold in his ear at the movement, the moonlight catching the small golden hoops lining his ears.

“Yes, you most definitely are fine. But are you okay? Are you in need of assistance or…?” His sentence hangs there, unfinished, like he’s unsure how to end it, possibly regretting the offer. He sounds reluctant, like he’d rather chew glass than help, but would if I asked. Or maybe it’s just his strangely formal way of talking. He puts an odd emphasis on his words.

I smile for real this time, realising that we are closer again. I don’t know who took the step. It could have been either one of us. He’s still out of reach, and I have a flash of a fantasy of snatching him up and running. Somewhere. Anywhere. Something about the power rolling off him, though, suggests that is a terrible idea.

Unless he’s down for it. Then maybe?

His brows knit together again in a frown, his good eye, a deep brown I can see now up close with a strangely reptilian, long pupil, flicks back and forth between mine. His hand drops from his chin, both hands settling on his narrow hips, the dark shirt he’s wearing stretching across his chest.

“I promise, I’m okay. I just needed to think.” My words are clearer this time.

It’s his turn to take a step forward, his boots crunching on the ground, putting him in touching distance. I become extremely aware of our closeness, and my nakedness. He’s not quite close enough to be touching my dick, straining between us like a homing beacon, but he’s not far off.

“And to think, you had to stand at a cliff’s edge, in the middle of the Whisper Woods, just before dawn?”

I smile wider, feeling it tug on my cheeks. It’s the smile with the dimples, the dimples that distract from questions that poke too far.

“That’s it, it’s peaceful, you know?” My tone is light, and I shrug my shoulders, fighting the urge to fold my arms over my chest, when his eye searches mine. He doesn’t believe my casual buffoonery for a moment.

I wonder if he’s actually a mind reader? I know fae can do it, probe into your brains a bit. Witches, too. It’s considered rude, and we’re taught as kids how to put up our shields to the best of our abilities. Even human kids. But I can’t feel him poking around in there.

It’s like he can just see me.

It steals the breath from my chest, seizing my muscles.

I can’t believe it when his hand reaches out, reaches up, to cup my cheek. Strong fingers stroke the dusting of stubble there, soothing, questioning. And all of a sudden I’m back under that spell again.

When his hand moves to cup the back of my neck to pull me closer, there is no resistance in me. I am helpless for him, my feet taking the last steps until I’m close enough that I can feel the roughness of the cloth of his shirt against my skin.

Those long fingers of his thread their way through my hair, tangling themselves the way I’d fantasised doing to him only moments ago. He searches my face, looking for something. Permission? I don’t trust myself to open my mouth to give it to him. Instead, I lick my lips, a shuddering, shaky breath escaping me as I try to lurch closer.

His hand is tight in my hair, though, stopping me from moving far. He’s stronger than he appears, and the knowledge sends another white-hot flare of lust straight to my balls.

As if he can sense his victory over me, a smile creeps over his face. Confident, like a hunter who’s successfully snared their prey.

I should probably be worried. An unknown being appearing out of the shadows in the middle of the Woods like a dream should only spell danger. But when he finally drags my face down to his, all I can think about is what that closely cropped beard will feel like against me. If he tastes as good as he smells.

Wolf howls in satisfaction at the first gentle pressure of his lips. They move against mine, tasting, testing, until I whimper a desperate whining sound that would have been embarrassing if it didn’t seem to snap the last threads of his control.

His mouth opens and I sweep my tongue inside, the kiss turning messy with need. My hands, no longer trapped at my side in an attempt at self restraint, cup the back of his head, to keep him in place. His other hand reaches around to grab a handful of my ass cheek, giving it an almost painful squeeze, then kneading the mound in harsh circles, and a whimper catches in my throat.

Using his grip on my ass, he tugs me closer, until we are pressed together, my naked body surrounding him. He feels incredible as I grind into him. Fitting perfectly in my arms so I don’t have to bend awkwardly, and while he’s leaner than me, he feels powerful. Strong.

We kiss until the need to breathe overtakes us and release each other only to bite and kiss and lick along each other's jaws and necks. It’s a fight of dominance, whose lips manage to make contact with skin. My hands, no longer tied in those long, dark locks, instead knead and palm every inch I can reach, pulling him closer as if I could somehow drag him into my very being and consume him.

Or be consumed by him.

He huffs a grunt of irritation as I kiss my way along his neck to the soft juncture under his ear. There is a sharp tug on my hair, and I hiss at the sting as I’m pulled back. The pain is soon forgotten, though, when his mouth finds my neck and he attacks it like a vampire starving for his first meal. Each bite, each lick, the hard suction of his mouth against my inflamed skin throbs within me. There is no way there won’t be a mark when he is done and my knees quiver with the thought.

To be marked by this man, owned by him. His strong hands keep me in place while he practically devours me.

He’s plastered to me, the buttons on his shirt, the buckle of his belt, digging into me. Branding me. It feels incredible. I need more. I need to feel the burn of his skin in my hands. I groan loudly, pulling mindlessly at his shirt tucked into his pants.

“Gods, you are perfect, aren’t you?” Hot, open mouth kisses are slathered against my collarbone between his mutterings as he turns me to putty in his hands. “A gift from the Goddess perhaps? A blessing from the Gods surely. Exquisite.”

I collapse against him, completely uncaring that he shouldn’t be able to bear my weight the way he does. My hands finally find their way under his shirt, burrowing and digging their way under the tight waistband of his pants. I can’t get far, my hands are too thick, but I satisfy the drive in me by digging my fingers into his cheeks, teasing the cleft of his ass, pulling him even closer against my grinding dick.

His lips find mine again, swallowing all the nonsense, whimpering, panting noises tumbling from me. I finally find the sense to dig my hands between us, to fumble with the buckle of his belt.

This is insanity. In the darkest, dullest corners of my mind, I know this is stupidity of the highest order. The greatest and dumbest thing I have ever done in my life, but I’m beyond that now. I can blame it on the full moon later. Since the moment I felt his eyes on me it was inevitable. Fuck him or be fucked, I don’t care, but it feels like I’ll die if I do not have him. Now.

The forest floor is rough and painful under my knees when I wrench myself free from his grasp to drop to the ground. My hands, stupid with lust, refuse to cooperate, trembling as I thread the leather through the first loop to undo the buckle .

His hands are in my hair, stroking, massaging. I make the shocking error of looking up at him. His kiss-swollen lips part with his heavy breaths, and his eye is trained on me, hazy with pure, unadulterated lust. My dick jerks, bouncing where it stands begging for attention between us.

“So good.” I shudder at his whisper of encouragement, the words striking through me like lightning. I’m dangerously close to coming and I haven’t seen his cock.

My hands are steadier now, the weight of his hands in my scalp grounding me, as I undo the metallic buckle and the buttons of his fly. I can feel the hot, hard length of him straining down his thigh brushing against my arm as I grip the edges of his pants to slowly peel them from his body.

“Seff!” Panic floods me, my boner deflating almost comically when the strains of my sister’s call filter through the Woods. Fury flashes in his eyes, his fingers tensing in my hair and then releasing almost instantly as I sit back on my heels. “Seff, you asshole. Where are you? I have your clothes!”

She’s closer now. My eyes ping-pong from his face, to the patch of dark hair I had just uncovered, to the treeline and back again. Something in me breaks, growing colder at the dimmed lust on his face, replaced with a glower. It feels as if I’ve lost something important and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find it again.

But I can hear the faint rustle of the trees as Breanna gets closer, her undeniable tracking abilities living up to their legendary status.

“Fuck, that’s my sister,” I curse as I stand. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I throw a cautious look over my shoulder in the direction I can hear her stomping.

“Ah.” It may be shitty of me, but it makes me feel better to hear the heavy regret in his voice with the single word as he deftly puts himself back together. He takes a step back and I feel the distance, it’s visceral. And then he takes another.

I take a step forward, reaching out to grab him again, but realise the futility almost instantly and let my hand drop from the air. He watches the movement, tracking everything about me, his hands now shoved in his pockets.

Is it dumb to hope that he’s trying to hold himself back too? Probably, but I’ve never been known as the smart one .

She’s far too close. I scan the trees again, trying to catch a glimpse of my sister's bobbing blonde ponytail, but all I can hear is her cursing up a storm between the trees. From the corner of my eye I catch the pink tendrils of dawn seeping into the dark of the sky.

Fuck, it really is late. Or early.

By the time I turn back he has made his way to the treeline he’d magically appeared from. I run to him this time, seizing his elbow just in time to pull him back against me, chest to chest.

“I need to go.”

Is that all he can say? For fuck’s sake. He pulls against my grip on his elbow, but only half heartedly. There isn’t a shred of doubt in me that he could remove himself from my grasp as easily as swatting a bug. Instead, I pull him closer, dropping my forehead to his.

“At least tell me your name. Where can I find you?” My whisper is harsh, but his look is sympathetic. I hate it. With everything I have in me, I hate it when his hand strokes my cheek and he places a soft kiss to my lips and steps back.

“My name…” He looks conflicted, looking off to the trees where I can now see the telltale blonde shining in the light of the rising sun. She’s too close.

He squeezes his hands together and takes another step back, almost completely swallowed by the shadows now.

“Rafe… My name is Rafe. Perhaps I’ll see you again, Seff. Gods and the Woods willing, it will be soon. Goodbye.”

“Wait!” The words tear from me just as Breanna crashes through the last of the ferns. Instinctively I turn to her, snarling with the wolf this time, furious at her intrusion. She couldn’t have waited ten more minutes? Ignoring Breanna’s horrified look, I spin back to where he was, but instead there are only trees. Trees and ferns and darkness giving way to light.

He’s gone.

Rafe .

“Fuck!” My yell is loud enough to elicit an indignant squawk from a nearby nesting phoenix. My face fills my palms, and I push at my eyes, rubbing until the colours burst .

“What is your problem?” Breanna’s indignant and offended, and also kind of hurt, question draws me back from the edge of the tantrum brewing in me.

I inhale sharply through my nose, jamming my hand through my hair, trying to figure out how to explain to my baby sister what just happened. With no answer, I face her, one hand still in my hair—a pale imitation of the way he held me—the other hand on my hip. I try to shrug, but rather than casual, it comes off awkward.

“Nothing Bree, I just…” there is no way to explain this one. “Nothing. Just thought I saw something.” She doesn’t believe me, but she does the sisterly thing and ignores my weirdness. Instead, she pulls the black backpack off her shoulders and throws it to me. I catch it easily, but hold it, making no more moves, my brain not at all caught up with the complete and total redirect.

“Here’s your clothes. Mum said if you want to get a ride back into town, you need to hurry up. She has a bottomless brunch with her friends she doesn’t want to be late for.” She turns to leave me to get dressed in privacy, I guess, but stops suddenly. Turning back to me, her pretty face scrunched in concern. “You good, big bro? Why are you out here anyway?”

This time the shrug is easier. The casual smile too, my mask sliding back into place. I grip the bag tighter, nodding genuinely.

“Yeah, all good. Just needed to run. All that full moon energy and that.”

One eyebrow arches as she looks me over, well to my chest anyway, lips pursed. Thankfully she doesn’t ask any more questions I really don’t wanna answer. Especially about the strange scent in the air or the bruises on my neck.

“Okay. Whatever. Get dressed. It’s time to head on out.” I thank her again and unzip the bag to find my clean clothes and shoes and my navy baseball cap.

I’m dressed too quickly and I find myself standing there, staring at the gap in the trees where he’d disappeared. It’s like it never happened.

Did I dream it?

Gingerly, I touch my fingertips to the tender patch of skin on my neck where he marked me. Rafe marked me. The aching bruise is the only proof, the only reminder, and so I poke and prod the spot while I stare, willing him to return.

But he doesn’t. Instead, it’s Breanna again, poking her head between the trees.

“You ready to go yet? Mum’s gonna be pissed.”

I look from my sister, to the empty space again, the aching pit in my stomach making my fingers tingle.

“Yeah, Bree. I’m ready. Let’s go.” I swipe up the backpack from the ground as I pass, following Breanna through the trees to the path back to the pack grounds, each step making that pit bigger and bigger inside me, reminding me that the most perfect moments of my life are over.

Will I ever see him again? Will I ever feel like that again? A hundred times, my hand drifts to that bruise, that mark, to remind myself. To remember. Each time I swear on the Woods, the spirit of my pack, that this is not over. That it will happen again.