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He looks far too proud of himself as he swaggers back to me, the fig in one hand and a wriggling black and red lizard-like creature wriggling to get free in the other. The little beast lookspissedas it hisses and meeps its anger at Caelan.
It’s only about fifteen centimetres long, with a stubby tail and little clawed feet flailing for freedom. The little, black, bug eyes narrow as it meeps again in my general direction, baring its gummy mouth. It really is quite a good-looking lizard thing, with glossy black skin and red blob-like stripes along its fat back. Well, it’s cute until itbreathes a tiny spark of firein my direction. What in the actual fuck?!
“Caelan! Put that down this instant! What is it?” My outburst sets it off again, and it squirms in Caelan’s hand furiously until he presents the thing with the fig. It quiets instantly, chomping its little mouth into the flesh of the fruit and chewing happily. I have no idea how it manages with no teeth, but it does. Caelan just laughs like he isn’t holding a miniature dragon baby.
“It’s fine, Tor. You know I wouldn’t put you in danger, babe. It’s just a little fire salamander. All bark, no bite.” He watches it chewing happily, a smile onhis face, but I eye them both dubiously. “Maybe a little fire, though,” he adds as an afterthought, and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, sure. Totally safe. Aren’t they toxic to touch?”
Caelan looks up from the salamander, who looks extra fierce now with the juicy pink inner flesh of the fig smeared across its jaw. “It’s fine. I’ll wash my hands.” He turns back to the salamander. I have no idea how, but it has almost demolished the whole fruit. The thing is nearly as big as he is. “You’re a good little boy, aren’t you?” Great, now he is baby-talking to the fire breathing lizard. Awesome.
“Why don’t you have any pets?”
He seems to like them well enough. Finally, he puts the creature back on the ground, giving it one last stroke on its head and leaving the other fig for it to chew on. He nods his head for me to follow him to the nearby creek to wash his hands while he answers. I follow warily; we’ve had to leave the worn path and as I’ve just seen, many things live in the underbrush here. I don’t want to step on anything.
“I did have a cat, Daisy. She was my Ma’s. But she died last summer. I didn’t really have the heart to replace her straightaway. And I’ve been meaning to get a dog since my grandparents died. I just haven’t got around to it.” As we approach the creek, I dig through my pack to hand him the soap and he quickly ducks down to thoroughly scrub his hands.
“I always wanted a dog growing up. I wanted one of those golden retriever types. They always had them on TV. A realfamilypet. I would fantasise about having a little home and a husband and our cute dog. A little family.” I realise I sound kind of pathetic when Caelan stands, drying his hands on his pants and stepping closer to me, sympathy in his eyes. Usually Ihatethat kind of look, but on him I know it’s because he gets it.
“What did you call him? Your imaginary dog?” He slips his hand into mine again, kissing the back of mine and taking the lead, completely oblivious to the way heat floods low in my belly at his casual yet familiar affection. I can still feel the tingle of his lips on my skin.
“Uh, Lucky. I always imagined he’d be called Lucky. It’s dumb, but I was just a kid.” I can feel the stupid blush flooding my cheeks, embarrassment heating the back of my neck and the tips of my ears. But Caelan just nods his head, his face considering.
“Lucky,” he repeats, as if he is trying the name out, pulling me back through the scrub to the path, “I like it.”
The salamander—that I have named Meeps because of the ridiculous little squeaks he makes—follows us for two hours in hopes of more fruit. Because Caelan keeps feeding it. He only abandons us when we stumble upon a small, wild strawberry patch.
We pick what we need and leave the creature to get fat and happy on the sugary delights. Caelan and I continue on, feeding each other the delicious red berries and kissing the red juice from each other’s faces.
Our hands barely leave each other, which isn’t unusual. Caelan is an affectionate man. I suspect it has something to do with feeling so isolated his whole life.
But there is something else in the air. That curling sensual heat that had begun at the creek is fizzing beneath my skin and the only way to control it is by touching him, kissing him. From the way his heavy-lidded eyes eat me up, and the way he bites his kiss-stung lips before pulling me to him to devour me again and again, I have zero doubt that he is feeling the same enchantment as me.
It is dusk before we finally reach a clearing surrounded by lush ferns where Caelan is happy to stop. While I set up the tent, set our wards and get our fire started for the night, he makes a quick trip for fresh water to fill up our bottles and the kettle so we can get cleaned up. Considering how long we have been out here, camp setup has become a fine art. We have the rhythm down pat as we eat our dinner and pack things away.
But there is something different tonight. The air is warmer, despite the clear sky, and there is something palpable in the air. I can feel it every time Caelan brushes up against me, or our gaze lingers a little longer. Finally, there is nothing left to do for the night. This is usually the point in the day where we snuggletogether to chat by the fire, too exhausted from the day’s walk for anything too strenuous, before collapsing into the tent to pass out for the night.
But tonight? I stare across the flickering fire at Caelan and bite my lip, unable to tear my eyes away as a slow, lazy grin spreads across his face. There is something darker in his eyes, predatory, as he cocks his eyebrow and leans back on the log he had dragged over for a seat. It’s the first time I have truly seen the wolf in him.
“Come here, Tor.” His voice is deeper, growlier, and fuck if I am not horny and raring for this. My dick throbs. But I don’t move, instead raising my eyebrow back, eyes widening in faux innocence. I don’t know what game we’re playing here, but it is hot and I amherefor it.
“Why would I do that?” There is a quiver in my voice. “What does the big bad wolf want with lil’ ol’ me?” I place my hand over my heart and drag it down slowly with my words. Caelan eyes me hungrily, running his thumb over his lower lip. I want to bite it. The need to crawl over to him and slide between his legs is pounding through me like a drum.
But I force myself to sit still on my log. To hold tight. Something tells me I would be highly rewarded for my patience. Caelan’s eyes blaze with heat, his lip curling. His legs shift wider and his hand drops between those muscular thighs I want to spend an eternity worshipping, to cup his erection. The shadows from the fire and bright moonlight highlight the obscene bulge.
“Come here, Tor, so I can eat you up.”
Caelan
Watching Tor slide offhis log seat and crawl around the fire, on his hands and knees, that delectable lip between his teeth, white curls glowing in the light of the fire, eyes glowing with lust, will be a memory burnt into my retinas until my deathbed. Need builds in my guts, my fingers clawing painfully at the bark of the wood beneath me, trying to restrain myself from lunging at him, pinning him beneath me anddevouringhim.
I had experienced the unrelenting heat of the full moon before, but never this powerfully. I’ve never had it burn through my veins with the vicious need to consume, totake. Need churns in my guts, blood pumping in my ears as I count my breaths in a desperate attempt to calm myself.
Finally, Tor reaches my feet, kneeling between my thighs. Settling back on his heels, he peers up at me from beneath his lashes, eyes wide, lips parted with his erratic breath.He is beautiful. And he is mine. All I can do is watch. My lungs lock as he unties one of my boots, and then the other, slipping them from my feet along with my socks and running his hands reverently up my calves and massaging my thighs.
Amongst the heady madness choking me, I send up a silent thank you to the Gods for our foresight in having extra thorough showers before dinner. There had been very little doubt where this evening was heading.
Tor’s hands continue their slide up over my hips, reaching for the buttons of my pants. He undoes them with nimble fingers, despite their trembling. The sound of the zipper echoes through the Woods. The only other sound is our panting breaths as he carefully peels back my jeans. I lift my hips to help him getthem down, as he shifts back to strip them completely from me, flinging them away from us and the fire.
