Page 6 of Whisper Woods (Legends of the Whisper Woods #3)

Rafe

I have no idea how I am meant to find answers to the fall of Tathys’ ancient magical wards in this crush. Shoving my way through the crowd with increasing impatience, I leave the front bar area with significantly less drink in the glass than when I purchased it.

If I didn’t trust Lughis’s gifts as implicitly as I do, I would have turned around the moment the woman manning the doors ushered me into this drunken circus.

Irritation skitters under my skin, igniting my temper. It takes every ounce of my control to maintain my skin. To not lash out with my claws and force the crowds out of my way. I haven’t struggled like this since I was fifteen and going through puberty. I do not even know why I am so frustrated. It’s entirely irrational. Which is only making me feel worse.

Heaving a sigh, and dodging a stumbling group of inebriated, half-dressed men carrying their even more inebriated friend towards the exit, I vow to myself that if I get any vomit on me tonight, I am going on a rampage. Consequences for the reunification be damned.

With far too much effort, I make it to the balcony area overlooking the pit-like dance floor. It’s blissfully empty here, most everyone either in the crush out in the pit, or gathered around the bars. Finally able to breathe, I make myself comfortable, leaning against the railing, nursing my drink in my hands.

“Hey, handsome,” a shiver ripples down my spine, trailing the touch of whoever has arrived at my side.

Maintaining a cool smile, I tip my head towards him, nodding in greeting. My nonchalance towards his overtures doesn’t deter him. Probably because the man is beyond drunk. It’s a shame, he is smaller than my usual preference, but is still rather attractive. Or he would be if his brown eyes weren’t glassy with alcohol and his hair a rough mess of sweat and whatever styling products he’d used this evening.

There is a glossy pink smear across his cheek, I assume from either his own makeup smudged for the night or left from whomever he’d been with prior to his stumbling into me.

He leans in closer, the sharp scent of whatever he’s been drinking tickling my nose. Pressed against my arm, he leans the entirety of his slight weight against me, his eyelids drooping.

“Wanna dance, gorgeous?” And then he’s grinding against me in something that I’m sure resembles the beat of a song. Just not the beat of this song.

I stare down at the bobbing gyrating head of the being rubbing himself against me—from his scent I am guessing he is a small shifter, perhaps even a rabbit—and consider, in the loud and overstimulating nightclub, if maybe the Gods are toying with me.

Either way, I have had enough of whatever… this is. And so gently I prise him from me. Surprisingly, it is not an easy task. Despite him being a tiny little thing, he is remarkably grabby. Thankfully, I manage to flag down a member of staff running around with a tower of glasses. They don’t seem particularly pleased with being tasked with the drunk prey shifter, but my new friend is more than happy to follow them elsewhere. Somewhere far away from me.

Good deed completed, I return to my post on the balcony, the place my instincts are demanding I wait for whatever answers Lughis has promised.

Beyond the premonition, my own instincts are on high alert, demanding my attention somewhere , too dulled by the intoxicating uncontrolled magic and scent in the air. Scanning the crowd, I try to keep my breathing even, to keep my senses from being overwhelmed.

I almost choke on my drink when I see him on the dance floor.

Seff .

Now that I can see him I don’t understand how I had seen anything else. Has he been here all night ?

Standing an impressive head and shoulders above nearly all the crowd, his tanned bare skin glows under the dancing lights. He shed his shirt at some point, a fantastic choice I must say; the way the muscles on his back move as he throws his arms about above him are a work of art.

Thrilling need spikes through me as I watch him dance in the crowd. He seems to be with others.

Is he here with them?

Does it matter?

Torn between wanting to vault over the barrier between us and cutting a path to reach him, blood and inter-world relations be damned, and sinking into the anticipation of watching his magnificent body move, I finally settle on the latter.

Even with the proof in front of my eyes, I can scarcely reconcile the truth that he’s here in front of me. Right where the Gods ordered me to go.

Is it a sign? Is it a cosmic joke?

For a moment my anger flares again, just as fiery and irrational. Anger at my duties, anger that he’s here, anger that he’s allowing others to touch him. There are too many beings, too close to that delectable bare skin I have craved for countless nights.

The need to own him, mark him, devour him is almost crushing my chest. I force my body into a relaxed position, hoping to actually trick myself into following suit. But it doesn’t work. My claws sharpen against the glass in my hand as I watch others covet what I wish to possess and I take a steadying breath to reign it all back in.

I can tell the precise moment he becomes truly aware of my attention. The tensing of his shoulders, the way his spine straightens, his hands flexing by his side. Indecision clouds his aura. Is he going to run? Or is he going to hunt me down? My cock, already half hard at the sight of him, throbs at the idea. Either one.

His friends have finally noticed his withdrawal as he ceases his magnetic movements, but he doesn’t even seem to register their presence as he turns to face me.

Vylushkiva, he is still the most perfect thing I have ever seen .

Golden eyes consider me from the distance between us. Too much distance. I lick my lip, and let my eye drift over him in return, eating up every inch of golden, tanned chest, and the dusky hint of his nipples. The crowd hides the rest of him, sending a feral thread of anger through me.

His friends are yelling at him again, but he only yells something over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine.

He is going to run.

When he attempts to lose himself in the crowd, rushing towards a dark corner, I follow, pushing my way through the sea of bodies to reach him.

Heat, hunger, and lust tumble together inside me. A dangerous and heady mix, my beast-like nature battling with my more human side as my hand reaches out, capturing his shoulder, turning him to face me.

In the half a second it takes for him to turn, I fear that I’m wrong. That here, outside the Woods, he is no longer my Seff. That he ran to get away, not so I would chase him. That there will be rejection in his eyes.

By the Gods, he is even more perfect than he once was. Big, and thick. Ropes of hard muscles, a delectable dusting of hair over his chest, trailing down into the waistband of his pants riding dangerously low over his hips.

A craving to see my hands wrapped around those hips once again, biting into the soft skin, guiding him as he rides my cock almost brings me to my knees.

At the moment, however, I must be satisfied with my hand on his shoulder, my traitorous thumb moving of its own accord.

“Hello.” I wince, actually wince at the awkwardness of my greeting. He smiles though, and Gods, that smile.

It is cruel, utterly unfair in the way it punches the air from my lungs. A dimple—my dimple—I claimed it all those years ago, creases in his cheek, and my hand tightens unbidden on his shoulder.

“Hi,” his voice is calm but I can feel the pounding of his heart, the energy vibrating through him. We stare at each other for far too long. I can feel every breath tickle over my face. Around us the club, the beings, the party, continue on, while he and I stand at the precipice of the moment, neither willing to be the one to tip us over the edge .

“ Seff ,” I choke out the word, unable to say anything more.

My hand coasts down his biceps, revelling in the feel of his skin under my palm. Circling my fingers loosely around his wrist, I marvel at the way my touch seems to both relax and electrify him. His pulse is wild under my thumb.

“What are you doing here?” He leans in towards me, like he can’t help it, his half-lidded eyes watching my lips with undisguised hunger, dashing away any concerns that he wished me gone.

I avoid answering his question. I have always hated having to step around the truth with him. It feels wrong, when he’s always so open.

“It’s good to see you,” I say instead. An undeniable truth.

“Yeah, it really is.”

Gods, that dimple will be the end of me.

Over his shoulder I see a group of beings watching us, the ones he was dancing with, a mixture of curiosity and concern on their faces.

Nodding towards them I ask, “Are you with them?”

Smiling with pride that my presence made him forget the others, I watch as he glances over his shoulder in confusion.

“No. Well, yes . I came with them, but I’m not with them.” Gods, the blush that colours his cheeks. I want to see that colour on his ass after I have fucked him into oblivion. It’s like he can read my mind, the way the blush flushes redder, creeping down his neck as he bites his lip to hold back a groan.

“Does that mean that you can leave with me?” Prophecy be damned. There is nothing to find here at Slash tonight except for drunk, horny men. And Seff.

“I shouldn’t… I—” He doesn’t finish, instead chancing a look over his shoulder, where his friends are still watching. His hesitation has me dropping his wrist, drawing his attention back to me with panicked focus.

“Then I’ll leave you. It was good to see you again,” I let the words hang between us as I step back out of his orbit.

“No!” His shouted denial as he lunges forward surprises a laugh out of me, the sound just as out of place as his yell. Snatching up my hand in a punishing, possessive grip, he hauls me back closer to him.

He beams down harder at me, with the vylushkiva dimple, shaking his head, biting that lip again. “No, please don’t go.” He shrugs a big shoulder, his smile turning charmingly bashful on such a large man, “It’s just, I said I wasn’t gonna go home with anyone tonight. Promised.” He looks so devastatingly sincere, it makes me want to laugh again.

“Well, you are in luck,” I step closer, my hand settling on his waist, the linen of my shirt grazing his bare skin. I feel the shudder of his breath fan over my face, his watchful eye waiting. I have to lean up ever so slightly to ghost my lips over the stubble on his jaw to his ear. “I wasn’t inviting you home. I have a hotel room across the street.”

It’s him that laughs this time. Only it’s not the humour filled chuckle of before. It’s throatier, needier, and desperate. He is a man on a fine line and I am more than willing to send him over the edge.

My hand at his waist trails along the band of his jeans, fingers teasing under the fabric. His eyes droop closed, head falling back on a hiss. My fingers trail back the other way, dipping further this time. When I reach the cleft of his ass, his head snaps up, eyes gleaming with predatory light.

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

***

His friends laugh when he indicates to them that he is leaving, specifically with me. They fall all over each other with their rude gestures and outlandish goodbyes. It’s interesting, seeing him with his friends. We’ve only ever been together, all alone in the Woods.

Their antics embarrass Seff, that blush colouring his cheeks again, all the way down to his chest. But it is affectionate, loving teasing. Who are these beings and what do they mean to him? Jealousy streaks through me as he says his goodbyes, only relieved when he returns to my side.

Where he should be.

But Gods, he feels incredible under my hand as I guide him out of the nightclub and across the street to the small hotel there. That small contact, my hand at the base of his spine, is setting fire to every nerve in my body. The quiet of the night, the light of the street lamps, it’s all nothing. There is nothing outside of that connection to him.

Seff crowds me, but doesn’t speak as we cross the road, nor when I tap my card to the reader that allows us access into the small, dark lobby and lead us to the elevator. Even when I have to drop my hand, to fumble with the key card, he sticks close, invading every sense.

In the elevator on the short ride to my floor, the anticipation balloons, growing thick and round between us. We stand in opposite corners, watching, waiting. Seff has his arms splayed, hands on the railings of the elevator, still deliciously shirtless.

I can see the valleys of his hips with perfect clarity now. The way they draw the eye down, between his legs to his visibly hard cock. It’s obscene the way it’s pressing against the denim.

I want to taste it. Taste him. My admiration does not go unnoticed. A soft huff of laughter draws my attention back up to the cocky smirk on his face. It’s a skill, to be able to look so confident, so sure, and yet, not an asshole.

Once my eyes are back up, he distracts me again, making his pecs dance to the jazzy elevator music playing softly in the background. I stifle my laugh, struggling to maintain a straight face as I roll my eye at him. He knows he’s got me, though, and he winks just as the bell for our floor sounds.

This time he takes my hand, leading me out of the elevator, walking backwards.

“Which room?” They are the first words we’ve spoken since we left the club. They feel weird, my ears not having adjusted to the silence after the intensity of the music earlier.

I nod my head to the left to where there is a lone room at the end of the hall.

“At the end. 342.”

The dimple, that dimple comes back as he leads me down the hall, drawing me in closer as we move.

“Excellent,” he whispers near to my ear, causing a shiver to run through me, “Don’t need to be quiet now do we?” He trails his nose along my jawline and down my neck. He inhales deeply, sending my own breath stuttering out of me. “ You smell so fucking good.” His lips tease my skin with his words. Like he is tasting me.

I groan, loud and guttural, unable to take any more. While he continues to send my senses into overdrive, nosing and kissing his way around the delicate juncture of my neck, I fish the key card from my pocket and tap the thing furiously against the lock.

Hand no longer encased in mine, Seff takes the opportunity to grip my ass, hauling me tightly against him, just as I manage to blindly open the door behind him.

We fall together, stumbling into the pitch dark room, managing to catch ourselves thanks to the wall that breaks our fall.

We laugh soundlessly, Seff sandwiched between the wall and my body, his hands cupping my ass, our thighs threaded between each other. I can feel the hard length of him against me, and I cant my hips, just once, relishing in his hiss.

Even in the dark, I can see his face in outlines and shadows, and I know he can see mine. Our breath mingles, our lips tantalisingly close. That balloon of energy between us pulsing, palpating.

And exploding.

Unable to wait any further, Seff’s lips crash into mine, his tight, almost painful grip on my ass lifting me to meet him. I moan, opening my lips to him, giving him access to plunder and taste. To take whatever he wants from me. My hands shoot up, knocking off his cap and threading through his strands. All the better to tug him closer still.

Our kiss becomes frantic, needy. His big hands knead my ass in time to the subtle flex of his hips. Whimpers fall from him like diamonds when I tear my lips from his to suck hard bites along his jaw and the golden stubble there.

“Bed.” The word is a plea. A whine. “Please.” Dear Gods, the plaintive, needful cry is almost my undoing, but I pull back. He follows, like a magnet unable to resist.

“If you insist,” my voice is deeper now, harsher, the lust of the beast unable to be held fully back, “this way.” Taking his hand, I lead him through the living area to the bed.

He is already unbuttoning his pants, and kicking off his shoes, pulling on my arm as he struggles for balance. When he succeeds, he crushes his lips once again to mine, as he shoves his jeans and underwear down in one swift movement. He cups my jaw as he kisses me, once again crowding me, this time against the edge of the mattress.

With the feel of his very naked body against my very clothed one, though, I have other ideas. Once again, it only takes the simplest touch to command him, for him to relinquish control of the situation.

With my hands on his hips, I guide him, stepping forward and turning. He goes oh so willingly, too consumed with consuming me to notice that it is his knees against the mattress now. I pull back, smiling up at his lust-drunk face, and gently push against his chest. He falls willingly against the bed with a little bounce, rising on his elbows to look back at me, teeth between his lips.

He looks like a God.

No.

The Gods would be envious of his beauty. He is lust incarnate, able to drive the Gods insane, and destroy civilisations with his dimpled smile. A sliver of moonlight has managed to peak its way through the blinds, trailing over him, highlighting the peaks and the planes of his body. I want to taste him everywhere.

“Is there anything I should know?” It’s been so long, I feel the need to ask as I climb onto his thighs. They are so thick, my pants strain against my wide stance. I sit just above his knees, his cock bobbing in front of me against his belly, too heavy to stand.

He gives an unsteady shake of his head, eyes focused on my hands as they stroke up and down his thighs, edging closer and closer to his balls with each stroke.

“Anything. You can do anything.” His voice is a breathy whisper, strained with the tension of his head falling back. A chuckle rumbles through me when my hands finally brush against his sac, eliciting a deep moan that turns into a whine when my hands draw away again .

“What a dangerous offer.” I tease, his words fanning a feral fire inside me. I press his hips back into the bed when they rise, seeking contact once more.

Dropping my head down, I give into the temptation that has been taunting me since I first saw him on the dance floor, licking along the lines of his stomach and the creases of his muscles. His fingers release their clenching of the quilt cover to instead grip my skull, attempting to tug me lower to his straining cock. I fight against the pull, instead taking my time to lick, nibble, and kiss and worship the skin splayed before me.

“Is it safe? To allow me anything I wish? What if I wanted to eat you up, dear Seff?” My words are peppered along his feverish skin.

“I don’t care. Ugh. Just—” he grunts in frustration. “ Please .” The sound is almost a sob, my hand wrapping around his impossibly thick cock rattling his senses. “Naked. More.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” I press a teasing kiss to his lips, slick and puffy and tempting. He grumbles and groans when I climb off the bed, his hands skimming over his own skin, lingering to stroke his dick where it leaks against him.

I strip quickly, throwing my clothes to the side and taking a moment to turn on a lamp before returning to kneel over him on the bed. My dick is leaking, proud and painfully hard, jerking as it brushes against his skin. Is that my moan or his echoing through the room as I lean over him to reach the bottle of oil on the bedside table? I drop the precious vial on the bed in easy reach and sit back on his thighs.

Seff is working his pre-cum slicked cock with one fist, slowly pleasuring himself under me. With a sharp tap, I slap his hand.

“Enough of that. You need to learn some patience. Hands on the headboard.” I can see the furrow of his brow in the shadows as he reluctantly releases his cock to grip the bed. It’s a risk, the wood, if it even is wood, doesn’t seem very strong, and judging by the straining tendons in his muscular arms, Seff doesn’t have much restraint left.

I give my dick a long stroke, admiring the view of him stretched out in front of me. My stomach clenches, pulsing hot lust throbs through me .

“Do not let go,” I warn, shimmying back slightly to give myself room. His cock jumps with eager anticipation at the feel of my hot breath. My lips ghost over his length to the leaking tip. “Do not let go until I tell you.”

His yelp reverberates around the room as I take him deep into my mouth. My lips stretched wide, I rise and fall, working him farther into my mouth until my lips are pressed against the swell of his knot. I swallow then, revelling in the deep, choking groan.

I cup his balls while I suck, rolling the heavy sac in my hand. He feels perfect, the taste of him, the weight of him against my tongue, the scent of him, invades every sense until he is part of me, entwined in all my senses.

His pleasure is so intense, it is almost as if I can feel it myself. The hot warmth of my own mouth against my cock, in stark contrast to the tickle of his leg hair dragging against my balls as I rock in rhythm to my mouth.

When I feel his balls draw tight, and his knot swell, I pull off and then go back to suck at the slick flared head just once more.

“What?! No!” he sobs, rubbing his head against the pillows. But he doesn’t release his hands. I reach out blindly for the vial, unable to stop groping at his thighs, his hips.

“Patience, my dear Seff.” With almost painful reluctance, I uncap the vial and pour the liquid onto my fingers. “Gods, you are so beautiful. So perfect.” Even desperate to come, as he is, he still preens under my praise. I can feel the satisfaction rolling off him.

Under his intense gaze I reach behind myself, tracing along my crease to circle at my hole. His eyes flare wide with his realisation.

“Let me,” his voice is rough from his pleading, but all I can do is shake my head, my breath shuddering out of me as I penetrate myself.

Resting one hand on his waist for balance, I work myself open, stretching myself to take his considerable dick. Seff’s hooded, hungry eyes never leave me. He licks his lips, panting slightly. I can feel the beat of his heart, his unsteady breath, the chaotic adrenaline pulsing through his aura.

One finger becomes two, then three.

It’s enough, I decide, eager to feel the burn. It’s not often I choose this but more than anything, I want to feel him inside me.

Removing my fingers, I slick my hand with more of the oil, a special kind I favour from home, coating Seff’s straining cock.

“You ready?” His nod is so enthusiastic his whole magnificent body shakes with the effort. I move to sit, poised over his cock, lining myself up perfectly. Our breath is harsh, loud in the room. And I make us wait in it, even while my body vibrates with the tension of holding back. I know it will all be worth it in the end, when we finally come.

Teasing us both, I brush his cock over my hole. Once, twice. On the third pass there is a crack, loud and unforgiving. The headboard. Unrestrained pleasure flows through me, the volume of the moment, as his cock pierces me, breaching my entrance.

The burn is divine, the stretch. Slowly I sink down, until pleasure throbs through me, making me heavy and light all at once. My head falls back, a Tathissian endearment, our word for the most beloved of us, falling helplessly from me in a whisper, “My kushinavya.”

My hips roll on instinct. Our movements roll together as if we are dancing together, our rhythm, the beat of our spirit perfectly in sync.

And still, he never removes his hands. Even when the cracks become splintering tears, even when I lean back, displaying myself like a feast in front of him, one hand supporting my body, the other toying with my nipples, stroking my cock where it leaks all over him.

Not when he whispers desperate nonsense words, licking his lips hungrily. I can feel his hunger.

And he doesn’t let go.

Even when I release myself, to gain better balance, more traction to move faster, his cock filling me like bliss, Seff’s cock and knot swelling, limiting my movements, locking me in place. It feels incredible, powerful.

Too much.

“So good, Seff. Vylushkiva, you feel incredible. So fucking incredible. So good for me.” The praise pours from me naturally, and he eats it up. It fills him the way he fills me .

“Gonna—come—” pleasure stilts his words. And I can feel it, flowing from him, to him.

Unable to hold on to the ruined headboard any longer he grips my hips instead, his body tense, locked in position, fingers biting into my hips. Even where he holds he doesn’t control, letting me dictate the pace, to chase my pleasure and take it from him.

And it builds, divine and explosive, ricocheting through me. My hips stutter in their movements as I cry out, my cock jerking as I come, ribbons of my release marking Seff’s sculpted perfection.

“Thank the Gods,” his hips jerk up and his hands pull me down, sealing him inside me. In the shadows I can see the strain of the tendons in his neck, his head thrown back in rapture. His release is warm inside me, and I can feel every pulse, every throb. Tied together.

When he’s finished we remain locked together, and I collapse heavily on top of him. Our heaving breath synchronises just as our movements were only moments ago. Silence consumes the room, and even though I must be an uncomfortable weight, he does not make me move. Even when his cock softens, he keeps me there, keeps us together, his hands gently stroking over my back, my neck, my arms, my arse. All the while pressing soft kisses to my brow, nuzzling his cheek against my head.

It should be uncomfortable. But it isn’t. Instead, it’s peaceful, the sound of his racing heartbeat slowing under my head. I kiss that place, gently, the calm after the storm of my passion bringing waves of exhaustion.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” Seff sounds utterly wrecked, mumbling his sleepy confession. His arm squeezes tight around me, as his breath settles into a deep rhythm. He’s already asleep, leaving me with nothing but the dark, the looming morning and the sealed vault he just smashed open inside me.