Red and Her Wolf (18 page)

“Good,” he smiled and her heart dropped. “Get some rest when ye can take it, Red. I
doona
think we’ll have too many more nights like these soon.”

“Are we close then?” There was a sort of quiet detachment in her
question,
maybe she should have felt fear. Any sane person probably would, but so much of this felt surreal. It’s not that Violet hadn’t known about the wonders of this world, she’d lived here once, long ago. But to see the stories of the mortal world open up before her eyes, to battle the cannibal crone and walk through a forest made of literal candy… sometimes it was hard to believe that all this wasn’t a dream.

“Aye, we’re close.” He nodded, and then giving her a grim smile, stood. “My bones ache this night, I must turn to wolf. It helps me heal properly, shake me if ye need me.”

She watched as his magnificent body became engulfed in a bright flare of white light and suffered a momentary pang of regret. He was much nicer to look at in human form, and the wolf still disconcerted her.

The large black beast padded out of the light, gave her one last lingering look, settled down close enough to her that she could feel the waves of his body heat, and let out a long puff of air. Violet studied him in the soft moonlight. He must have felt worse than he’d let on, within seconds he was sleeping, but somehow she sensed should another predator approach he’d snap awake. His muzzle was long and lean, the fur dense and so black it blended in with the shadows all around.

He’d saved her, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

A rushing tide of blood and bits had nearly taken them; the crone’s forest had tried to consume them just as its mistress had consumed so many others. The moment they’d passed the witch’s boundary, he’d collapsed. So still, she’d feared he’d died. Violet had sat with him, not knowing how long he’d remain that way. He’d come to an hour later, dazed but not quite so miserable.

He’d shifted and her heart had flipped. Something was happening to her.
Something scary; but not altogether displeasing.
He was gorgeous to look at; it was hard to pretend he wasn’t anymore. Her hate hadn’t been able to blind her to his charms, and now…
well,
now things were different.

Ewan had led her to a thicket of bushes, growling and fumbling in the dirt for thirty or so minutes, before finding what he’d sought.
Another dream stone.
He’d pressed his palm against the stone and the blue portal had opened wide for them.

Here they were now, sitting in another grove. This one was slightly different. The trees were full of fruit and she’d nearly sobbed with joy. Didn’t matter that it was an apple, nothing had ever tasted sweeter.

They’d gorged until they could barely breathe, but beyond the chat of seconds ago, neither had talked.
Which should have suited her fine; except now she wanted to talk to him.
Wanted to know everything he knew about her past.

His past.

Glancing at her clothes, she frowned. She was still covered in slaughter, her dress beyond ruined. Where were they headed now?
To another monster, something even more insidious than the crone?

Violet shuddered, remembering the slithering feeling of that dark soul sliding down her throat. The wash of pain that’d blinded her to everything, and then the sweet, sweet lips consuming the evil within.

She brushed her fingertips against her lips and closed her eyes, his soft steady breaths a lullaby in her ear. Leaning against the tree she wiggled her toes, reveling in the warmth of his fur brushing against them.

An owl hooted and she shivered. Growing up, she’d led a sheltered life. Never able to stray farther than grandma’s territory; the apple trees the farthest she’d ever dared to go. But she’d known in her heart that there was more to Kingdom then the small valley she’d called home.

After much pleading and begging, grandmother had finally bought her maps, many of them. She’d stayed up into the wee hours of the night, reading and memorizing each wiggle and line by candlelight.

She’d been happy and content, but there were times she’d wished she could have seen them for herself. As a child she’d drooled at the thought of a forest made of cookies, but the reality was so much different than her childhood fantasies. The thrill of seeing a world she’d never thought to return to was still there, but tempered now with the knowledge that there was bad in this world.

Violet rolled her eyes, snorting. “You’re bad too,” she whispered.

What she’d done to the crone. The power that’d filled her body, spread through her like a dark cancer, sweeping aside reason or kindness. In its place had been something all-consuming and vile and she’d gloried in it.

The rush of all that power made her heady and wanton, desperate for more and ashamed of it all.

Until the pain.

But then Ewan had kissed her, and that kiss swept the evil aside, like a gentle swell lapping the beach. And she could breathe. Think.

Her head had swum with visions of a full moon, running and sweating, and howling. It’d been freedom, wild and untamed. And she’d wanted more.

Violet sighed, heart twisting painfully in her chest as she glanced at his still form. She should be sleeping, just like him. But her brain wouldn’t stop working. A side of her, smaller and smaller every day, still thought it was wrong not to hate him.

When he’d pushed her out onto the path, forced her to confront the crone, it’d flared to life. But then she’d seen him desperate to get at her, and had known he was trying to help.

But why?

Did he really think he was her mate?

She touched his bite mark, feeling nothing. Her flesh was smooth. Violet licked her lips. Was she his mate?

Was that why she’d obsessed about the big black wolf for so long? Not because she wanted to kill him, but because she needed him?

She shook her head, not wanting to think about any of that right now. It was too much to process. She wished he would have told her where they were headed to next.

Glancing up at the trees above, she tried to remember the landscape. Recall the maps she’d learned by heart so long ago. These woods looked… familiar.

Well, not so much these, but the ones to the left. The forest she and Ewan camped within seemed mundane, but not a stone’s throw from where they sat was a copse full of twisted, thick bellied trunks. Limbs splayed out like crooked fingers, and the silver mist encasing those woods… something about them teased the edge of her consciousness.

But the thought was fleeting, the faint memory indecipherable. Huffing, she stood and dusted her butt off. She needed to stretch and take care of some business.

Ewan growled, yellow eyes piercing hers. A question blazed in their depths.

“I need to relieve myself,” she admitted, cheeks blazing. “I thought you were asleep.”

He shook his furry head.

“I won’t take long.” She pressed her lips together, humiliated beyond belief.

He sighed, and laid his head back down.

Violet moved silently, aware of her surroundings, but moving far enough away that he’d not hear.

Finally satisfied, she did her business and wondered when she’d stopped thinking of him as the big bad wolf.

Moonlight bathed everything in a pale blue glow. She’d not realized she’d gone so far, until she noticed the silver fog circling her legs.

“Little Red Riding Hood.”

The cultured voice wrapped itself around her throat, making her feel like she suddenly couldn’t take a breath. She didn’t feel like dealing with another monster right now, especially not without Ewan by her side. She turned, and started trotting back to their campsite.

“I suppose I should be offended at your running off so soon.”

Far from sounding threatening, the voice was inquisitive, which made her curious enough to stop and glance back. This time a face materialized with the voice. A floating orange head gazed at her, the cat’s sickle shaped smile revealed wicked long fangs.

She smiled, delighted. “I know who you are.”

He lifted a brow, and then the rest of his body materialized. A large fluffy tail whipped gracefully back and forth. “Oh, do tell. I often forget.”

“You’re the Cheshire Cat.”

Large brown eyes widened and then he nodded. “Ah yes, indeed I am.”

The fog was thickest where he floated. His fur was so silky looking, so soft. She had a strange urge to pet him, but curled her fingers by her side instead.

“That must mean these are the Hatter’s woods.”

“A biscuit for the lady,” he smiled, and licked his paw.

His coat of fur gleamed like somebody had taken a torch and infused the mesmerizing colors within it.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, and then jerked, wishing she hadn’t said that.

His eyes rolled down his nose, the whole time studying the length of her. “I wish I could say the same for you. Who did you eat tonight,
Heartsong
? You made quite a mess.”

She curled her nose; the description wasn’t that far off.
“The old crone.”

“Oh my.”
He seemed surprised, eyes popping back in their sockets.
“No more kiddies for breakfast, eh?
How terribly mundane.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

He shrugged; his body hovered between two trees, never coming closer. She nibbled her lip, obsessed beyond reason with feeling the texture of his fur.

“You want to pet me.” It wasn’t a question.

Hesitantly, she nodded. “I’ve never seen fur like yours.”

He kept licking himself, fluffing the fur higher, drawing her eye like a dragon’s to a gem. “You can you know. Just come… closer.”

“Why don’t you come here?”

He inhaled deeply. “Do you see the fog?” He nodded. “That is the demarcation point between my world, and that one.” He curled his nose, long whiskers twitching.

“What do you
mean,
that one?”

“The one you stand in.
Of course.”

She frowned, looking around. The trees on this side did seem more normal than the behemoth’s lurking on his side. “Have you ever come on this side?”

“How do you think I found my way in here? I came from that goddess awful place.”

A shudder rippled across his shoulders, down his spine and through his legs. It was a strange sight.

She lifted a brow. “Which means it won’t kill you.”

“
Mmm
. Debatable.
It might as well, because you see, my dear girl, if I step one itty bitty paw beyond this boundary I’ll become
normal
,” he drawled, disgust dripping from his tongue.

Laughing, she said, “You make it sound like a fate worse than death.”

“Isn’t it?”

She stopped laughing, glancing down at her feet. “I don’t think normal is all that bad. Sometimes, I wonder what it feels like.”

“Red?” he said, a question in his voice.

Violet frowned. “Why does everyone call me that?”

He hovered like a ghost between thick branches. “What would you like me to call you? Blue?”

“Neither. My name is Violet.”

He tapped his jaw. “I prefer Red. Sounds more dangerous,” he purred, the ‘r’ rolling hard off his tongue.

When she looked back at him, his fur almost seemed to triple in size. What was it about his fur? Ewan’s didn’t do that. Then again, she didn’t really want to pet Ewan. Well, not his
wolfy
side anyway.

She licked her lips. “I think I would like to pet you, Cat.”

He dropped to the ground and swished his tail.
“Because I like you, girl.
I’ll let you do what few can. Come here.”

She hesitated and he purred, that kittenish sound luring her in like a siren’s song. The fog felt cold against her skin. She was right at the edge of the Hatter’s woods, not too far in that she couldn’t turn back in case this was a trap of some sort.