Page 22 of Whisper Woods (Legends of the Whisper Woods #3)

Seff

One Year Ago

Against my desperate pleas to the Gods the sun rises.

From where we hide from the world in the shallow cave set into the hills, I watch the sky turn from pitch black, dusted with stars, to what looks like a stunning watercolour painting. The yellows and pinks bleed into purples and blues, smudged with streaks of clouds.

It’s beautiful.

The traitorous sun paints the canopy of the Whisper Woods below our hillside cave in stunning colours.

A true work of the Gods.

I hate it.

I hate what it means for me, and the man still snoring lightly against my chest.

I hate the tendrils of light that curl into the otherwise dark cave, and the delicate specks of dust that dance in the beams.

Because with each second of the returning day, it steals the moments I have left with him. And I already wasted so many last night.

If only I left the gathering when the urge to run hit me, rather than trying to hold out, grit my teeth and bear the rising irritation in me. We could have had more time.

If I had, I wouldn’t have arrived angry, overwhelmed and overstimulated and I wouldn’t have lashed out, forcing Rafe to talk me out of my petulant tantrum before we could be together.

I took it out on him.

I don’t even remember what I said. I was just angry at the world, and he was the first safe place to unleash it .

Anger at the series of fuck-ups at work that have somehow become my fault.

Anger at the constant—unasked for—responsibilities of the pack.

Anger that Nanna B, the one being in the pack who truly understands me, has moved to the Shifters Home. The beginning of the end.

Anger at the restless ball that bounces within me constantly.

Anger even at him. That he’s here again. Taunting me with brief glimpses of peace before it’s ripped away again.

I almost didn’t come. I didn’t want to. I didn’t know if I could walk away again. It felt—it feels so brutally un-fucking-fair.

But I didn’t get a choice. Wolf was in control when we first scented his tracks in the Woods, and nothing in this world—not even the violent storm that unleashed on the Woods after I left the gathering—was going to stop Wolf from sniffing him out.

Rafe weathered the storm of my meltdown like a steady force, until his presence broke through the haze of emotion, no doubt stirred up by the coming full moon, and I calmed down.

The man in question shifts restlessly in my arms, no doubt just as uncomfortable as I am, lying on the hard, chilled ground of the cave. The camping mattress Rafe pulled from Gods know where, is barely wide enough for the two of us, let alone strong enough to bear the weight of us both.

Rafe nuzzles firmly against my pec, his lips brushing against my nipple. Goosebumps erupt over my skin, my cock jumping at the contact. But I just soak in the feeling. My muscles still ache from the way he worked me over in the dark last night. It was the release I desperately needed.

Instead, my hand brushes lazily over the bare trail from his hip up his side to his chest and back down to his ass to cup the firm cheek. Trying to imprint every detail of him wrapped around me, so I don’t forget how it feels. Who knows how long it will be until we stumble upon each other again.

If we ever do.

What if this is the last time?

The last time I get to hold him. The last time I get to kiss him. The last time I get to see his smirking face or listen to his smooth, honey voice as he tells me all about his adventures. The last time I finally get to feel like my place in the world makes sense.

All the emotions from yesterday are crawling back with the sun. It’s like there is a clock counting down inside my head and with each passing second the ticking sound is getting louder and louder. And with each deafening tick I’m getting more and more wound up.

I want to ask him; I want to ask to see him again. For his fucking phone number. Anything to make this not possibly be the end. The questions are so big inside of me they squeeze my lungs and swell in my throat until I can’t fucking breathe.

But I still cannot ask them. It’s like I’m bound from asking.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s got some mate at home that he’s stepping out on, and to protect his life he’s cast some sort of spell to bind me from asking too many questions.

The thought sickens me. I don’t know what part is worse. Him already being mated or him stepping outside his mating bonds. It’s vile, repugnant. Sickening.

What’s worse, even if it were true, I don’t know if I would have it in me to deny him. My compulsion to him is too strong to deny. And what the fuck does that make me? Apart from just as repulsive.

My body flushes hot and cold in rapid succession in time with my panicking thoughts. Rafe must feel it. He inhales loudly through his nose, stretching and arching his body into me. The hand resting on my stomach, right above where our mess from last night still coats my skin, clenches and relaxes. It travels down to stroke my flank, coasting over my hips to pet the crinkly hair on my thighs.

Rafe blinks awake slowly, his black curls messy and wild from where I threaded my hands through them last night.

“Good morning,” he whispers, lips against my skin like a kiss. His voice hoarse from sleep.

When I grunt in response, he tenses and slowly rises on one arm to look me in the eye. I hate the achingly sweet look on his face as much as I love it. Why can’t I wear my mask around him like I can with everyone else? Why does everything I feel have to be tattooed there for him to see ?

With a gentle hand he reaches for mine, bringing it to his face to cup the scar on his cheek. Tears lurk threateningly behind my eyes, ready to burn my eyes at a moment’s notice. Rafe nuzzles against my hand, pressing it more firmly against him and kissing my palm.

It feels too much like goodbye. It hurts in every cell of my body.

“I’m sorry.” It’s time. His apology is barely a breath against my skin.

I can’t speak. My throat is closed over with the things I can’t say, with the fury at the situation we’ve somehow found ourselves in.

Instead I nod, forcing a tight smile. I even help him find his clothes from where they were thrown last night, and pack his things. I do it in silence. A very loud silence that speaks more clearly than I ever could with my mouth.

Rafe’s kiss goodbye is bittersweet. I watch him go through the fog of my tears. When he’s finally out of sight and I can only smell the lingering traces of him, I throw back my head and I howl.