7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Kieran
The door has barely closed after Wulfric before something in me breaks. As best I can with my wrists cuffed, I wrestle my pants down just low enough to tug my cock free from my underwear. A single stroke has my toes curling, abs clenching, as I fuck my fist.
I hate Wulfric Wolf-Heart. I hate every contradiction he stirs in me. I hate what he’s doing to me, asking of me. But more than that, I hate everything he isn’t doing to me, everything I want him to give me that he keeps refusing me.
I want his mouth on my skin, the scratch of his beard chafing me. I want his body against mine, his cock hard and thick in my hand, my mouth, filling me up.
Every time we’re alone together, I want to slap him senseless then throw myself at him. I want to tell him to fuck off, then demand him, beg him, to fuck me.
Damn it.
Wulfric is right.
I would beg him to give me what I need, and then I’d beg for more. On my hands and knees, on my back beneath him. I’d let him do whatever the fuck he wants to me and love every second of it. It’s disgusting. It’s shameful. And I don’t care.
Back arching, toes curling, I come so hard I have to clench my teeth to keep from groaning out loud. My release spatters the floor and, face burning, I kneel and clean it up with one of the furs piled on the floor by the fire. Once I’ve tucked my soft cock away, I stumble to Wulfric’s bed and collapse into the furs.
I want to pretend I struggle with the choice presented to me.
That I stay awake for hours, wondering what I should do.
Maybe even plan another escape.
But I don’t. I know what my choice is.
And I fucking hate Wulfric for it.
Wulfric made breakfast again, but he isn’t at the table. Helga is finishing up her meal and she uncuffs me so I can eat. “Wulfric said you can keep them off the rest of the day. It will make training easier,” she says.
I stretch out my arms. “Where’s His Royal Alpha-ness?”
She laughs softly. “Out training in the yard with some of the village pups.”
Joining her at the table, I take a bite of food. It’s delicious, damn it. I hate that I enjoy his cooking. Or feel any of the non-negative things I feel about him. His way of life goes against everything I stand for, all the raiding and pillaging, murdering and enslaving. And it’s not like he’s got a stellar personality to make up for all of it.
“Where’s he training?” I ask. The sooner I speak to Wulfric, the better.
“Behind the house,” she answers.
Pulling on a wool sweater over my tunic, I head outside. Wulfric’s fairly easy to find; I just follow the shouting of children behind the house. Honestly, I expect to see Wulfric terrorizing the little kids. What I actually find… well, it makes me stop in my tracks and blink twice.
The murderous, pillaging Scandinavian equivalent of a pirate is lying flat on his back in the dirt while a bunch of little kids scream and beat him with sticks. Wulfric’s making a strange sound, which I realize is laughter. Wulfric is laughing. It’s a deep, rich sound that rumbles up from his chest and escapes in a warm, raspy chuckle.
He leaps to his feet so fast it makes me jump and sends the kids scattering, screaming with delight. Snapping his teeth like a wolf, Wulfric pounces on one of the kids, a little girl, and scoops her into the air. He spins her in a circle and she shrieks with laughter while the other kids shout, “Me, me! Do me next!”
Wulfric stumbles to a halt, blond locks flying around his face. Chest heaving, he sets the girl on her feet, tossing back his head so his hair flies out of his eyes. A big toothy grin lights up his face, so radiant it's like the sun breaking through gloomy storm clouds.
My stomach flutters at the sight.
It’s a shame he’s such a prick. He has the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. Fuck. Why does he almost look… cute right now?
Wulfric sees me, and the smile falls right off his face and—there it is. The storm clouds are back. Good. I wasn’t sure what I’d do with a smiling, happy Wulfric.
I slap an obnoxious grin on my face and wave. “Hey! Good morning.”
Wulfric grumbles something, not sure what. Could be good morning or go fuck yourself—his scowl doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for interpretation.
“Having fun?” I ask, my boots crunching over snow as I go to meet him.
“Just training the pups.” He kicks at one of the sticks. “Was the food to your liking?”
I glare at him. “Terrible. There’s such a thing as too much salt, you know.”
He smirks, and I want to throw something at him. “I’ll remember that next time, little rabbit.”
That stupid smirk shouldn’t set my blood on fire for all the wrong reasons, but it does. My dick likes having his eyes on me, knowing I’ve made him smirk or scowl. And it really likes Wulfric covered in mud, his hair long and loose, and the way he’s loosened the strings tying his tunic so his furry chest is exposed.
My face reddens and I try and avoid remembering how furiously I jerked off thinking about him last night. Infuriatingly, his face splits into a wolfish grin, sharp with too many teeth. Fuck. I keep forgetting that he can smell my stupid raging lust. No matter how hard I glower at him, he knows that as much as I want to punch him, I also want to roll around in the mud with him. Pin him down beneath me and tug off his breeches.
Grabbing a sword from where it’s propped against a tree, Wulfric approaches a training dummy and takes a swing. The sword sings as it flies through the air, slicing a gash across the dummy’s midsection. If that were a real person, they’d be disemboweled, I realize with a shudder.
“Did you come to a decision?”
My food becomes a lump in my stomach. “I did.” Bunching my hands into fists, I force the words out. “I’ll do your trial. And if I pass the trial, then I’ll become your mate.”
With a final swing, Wulfric thrusts the sword into the mud. He turns slowly to face me. “You will.”
“Yes. And you’ll help me return to my time after we’re… you know. You won’t go all Hulk, or berserk, or whatever, right?”
He nods. “I’ll be fine. Mates, chosen or fated, who have bonded can be separated without the alpha going berserk. Unless the mate is killed, of course. Such trauma has pushed many an alpha into losing themselves.”
“Okay. Well. I’ll try not to get killed after we do the deed. But otherwise, I’ll be good to go?”
Wulfric meets my gaze solemnly. “I will let you go. You have my word.”
The tightness in my chest disappears. “Really?”
“Aye. My wolf will be settled after our mating. You won’t be of any use to me.” Yanking the sword from the ground, he spins and swings viciously at the dummy, slicing it nearly in half.
I feel like I hurt him somehow, but maybe that’s just guilt. Or Stockholm syndrome or whatever they call it. I’m going to need a shit ton of therapy after this…
Suddenly looking back at me, Wulfric says, “But first, you have to survive the trial.”
Right. There’s that. My heart sinks into my stomach. “You said you’d train me.”
“Of course. Who better to teach you to kill a wolf than a wolf himself?”
“Bet you’ll love kicking my ass, huh?”
With a jerk of his head, he motions for me to follow him back to the house. “What weapons are you familiar with?” He opens the door and motions to a rack of weapons in the entryway. I see his axes, a shield mounted on the wall, and a bow with a quiver full of arrows.
“Uh… I have to use a kitchen knife sometimes. You know. For cooking.” When he sighs, I snap, “Look at me! You honestly expect me to have any idea how to use a weapon?”
Shaking his head, Wulfric grabs the bow and quiver of arrows. “How do your people survive in your timeline?”
“Things are different.” I jog to keep pace as he marches from the house. “Regular citizens don’t have to fight for our lives every single day. At least, not physically. Not everyone in your village fights, right?”
“No, but at least one member of the household should know how to wield a blade so he or she can defend their family.” Wulfric shoves the bow at me. “A human like you in close quarters with a wolf can only end in disaster. You’re better off trying to hunt your prey from a distance and only engage up close if absolutely necessary.”
“Okay…” The bow is surprisingly heavy for something so slender. “Show me.”
The weight of his stare glides up and down my body as he circles me. My mouth runs dry, my heart rate escalating. Under his piercing eyes, I feel like the prey to his predator. “First, use this to protect your fingers when you draw a bow.” He hands me a thick strip of leather that I can tie around my fingers. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Knees bent.”
This is a really bad time for my dick to decide I like being ordered around.
“Like this?” For reasons I don’t want to admit, I only sort of follow his instructions, spreading my feet just a tad.
A dissatisfied grunt escapes him. “Try… this.” And his hands run down the outside of my thighs. “Open your legs.”
Swallowing hard, I spread my legs to where he wants them.
“Good.” His voice is a low rumble in my ear.
Oh, fuck me.
“Your torso’s position can impact the accuracy of your shots. You should turn… this way.” I’m like clay in his hands as he shapes me, molding me into the proper position. The breath gets stuck in my throat as he drags his hands down my body, angling me.
“And your head should be at an angle.” He’s taller than me but leans over to speak low in my ear, his breath heating my skin, his beard ticklish against my cheek. “Like so.” One of his big calloused hands comes up to my face. His finger pads are rough as they scrape over my skin, drawing a shudder from me, but certainly not one of revulsion. Gripping my jaw, he angles my head so my chin is level with the ground, my face forward. I swear his thumb glides along my jawline before he drops his hand.
“Keep your arrows in reach at all times.” Wulfric slips the quiver across my back. Ripping an arrow from the quiver, he holds it out to me. “Draw the bow. I need to see your posture.”
I try and draw back the string and immediately drop the arrow. Heat flares in my cheeks as I brace for Wulfric to mock me. Mark loved to make it clear when I fucked up.
“Here. Try this.” The warmth of Wulfric’s body presses in close behind me. I know he’s strong but damn, it’s like a wall of muscle against my back. The heat radiating from him makes the chilly day feel several degrees warmer. Gripping my hand in his, he positions my arm. I’ll be feeling his rough skin against mine for hours. “Find your anchor point.”
“An anchor point?”
“It’s the place you’ll return to time and again after every shot. For me, it’s under my chin, but it’s different for every hunter. Draw the bow.”
I draw, fighting the bow’s resistance. “Can’t,” I huff as my arm starts to burn.
“You can ,” Wulfric insists.
“How?” Desperation bleeds into my voice.
“Keep going. Breathe with me, Kieran.”
I think that’s the first time he’s said my name.
Patience is not something I’ve come to expect from him. He thinks I can do this, and I don’t want to disappoint him.
Wulfric’s chest expands against me, and I follow his breath in and draw. There’s no frustration or sarcastic remarks to disrupt the silence of the woods.
“Find your target,” he whispers in my ear.
My hand shakes as I take aim at the training dummy. The arrow whooshes from between my fingers and soars way clear of its intended path, disappearing somewhere in the woods. I exhale around a curse. Damn it! It would have been so cool if I nailed it first try. Wulfric would have been so—
So… what? Impressed? So what if he’s impressed? I shouldn’t care. I don’t. Survival is all that should matter.
An arrow appears under my nose. Wulfric says, “Again.”
I’ll hear that damn word until the end of time because for the next hour, it’s all I hear as I fuck up shot after shot. Drawing the bow gets easier and I become familiar with the posture, but my shots are all crap. How am I going to learn this in six days?
At the end of the day, I go to bed frustrated, arm aching from drawing the bow.
I dream of Wulfric’s hands on my skin, his breath hot against the back of my neck.
Wulfric seems to be dedicated to my survival, I’ll give him that.
Every day he wakes me up early and takes me out to the woods to practice my archery. By the end of the second day of training, my arm is killing me, but I’m a better shot. My fingers develop calluses as the week nears its end, which makes releasing the arrow less painful even through the leather strip.
Wulfric’s patience with me takes me by surprise. He’s relentless, and he pushes me to my limits, but no matter how frustrated I get, he never snaps at me or criticizes me when I fuck up a shot. He’s not afraid to dole out critiques and I wish he’d praise me more, but I’m learning fast under his guidance.
When I finally manage to hit a training dummy dead center, I turn to him with a huge grin. “Yes! Did you see that?”
Frowning, Wulfric walks around me and approaches the dummy. He runs two fingers along the arrow’s shaft until they touch the point of impact. An impressed noise escapes him. He turns to me, a smile softening his rugged features. “An excellent shot.”
My chest glows warm with pride. “Thank you.”
I did it! I impressed Wulfric.
Wait. Why do I care? All that matters is I hit my target where I needed to.
Clearing his throat, Wulfric rubs his face like he’s physically wiping away his smile. There’s a patch of pink in his cheeks. It’s adorable, even if it’s from the cold.
“Since you’re taking well to the training, how about we try something different tomorrow?” Wulfric asks as he comes back toward me.
“Sure. I can handle anything.”
A low, raspy chuckle rumbles from him. “Cocky, aren’t you? We’ll see how you fare. Meet me here tomorrow at dawn.” He passes by me, then lifts a hand and squeezes the nape of my neck. “Well done,” he murmurs, breath warm against my ear, and then he walks away before I can catch my breath.
The next day, I wake by the fire and roll out my shoulders. Rolling over toward the bed, I find it empty. Once I’m dressed, I head outside. The cold nips at me, grass stiff with a light fall of snow crunching beneath my feet. The training yard is empty when I get there except for the training dummies, their straw-filled bodies dusted with snow.
“Wulfric?” I call, my voice echoing for miles.
The hair on the nape of my neck stands up. Something’s watching me, but scanning the trees, I see nothing. Until I turn around and every bone in my body freezes.
A wolf the size of a horse strides from the trees, muscles rippling beneath a dense black coat speckled with snow. The wolf’s jaws are the length of my forearm, its teeth like thick spikes in its mouth. Razor-sharp claws flatten the grass beneath it. If I weren’t so terrified, I’d think this creature is the most beautiful, magnificent beast I’ve ever seen. All my instincts scream to run and before I can stop myself, I turn tail and bolt. I can climb a tree. If I can just get off the ground, then—
The wind is knocked out of me as the beast collides with me, bowling me over. A cold nose presses against my ear, hot breath hitting my neck in harsh pants. The beast’s powerful body rumbles with a growl that makes my heart sink to the pit of my stomach. The wolf’s body shudders above me and then a voice says, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to run from wolves, little rabbit?”
That son of a bitch! I roll onto my back and find not a wolf but Wulfric leaning over me, hands planted in the snow on either side of my shoulders. He’s wearing his wolfskin cloak along with his usual tunic and breeches. I’m almost disappointed he’s not naked like how werewolves usually are in the movies after a shift. The cloak’s hood is a wolf’s head minus the lower jaw, as if he’s peering at me from within the maw of a wolf itself.
“You… you asshole!” I snap, punching his shoulder. “I thought you were gonna eat me for sure!”
“I ate before you arrived.”
“As a wolf?”
A smirk curls his plush lips. “Ate a little lost rabbit whole. Bones and all.”
I should not be turned on by that. This asshole has messed with my brain. “Is this your idea of flirting? Telling me you’d like to eat me whole? Because if so, it needs serious work. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just a ‘did it hurt when you fell out of heaven, baby’ would be better than that.”
“Did it not arouse you? Do not lie to me. I can smell how much you want me.” He cocks his head like he’s still a wolf, and some of him still is. His fangs are sharp and there’s a wild gleam to his eyes.
“You’re smelling me? God, you’re creepy. Get off me, you prick.” I shove at him until he’s up on his feet.
He offers me a hand. I blink at it like this is the first time I’ve seen it. Before I can reach out, he snatches it away and averts his eyes with an awkward cough. Oh. Did he think I hesitated because I was insulted?
“Why’d you sneak up on me like that anyway?” I ask, dusting snow out of my clothes.
“You’ll be hunting a wolf tomorrow night. The time is right for you to practice on one.”
I grin. “You mean I get to pepper you with arrows?”
He huffs, glowering at a tree. “Could be less excited about it…”
“And once I’m… if I’m successful, I’ll become one of you?”
A nod. “Aye.” And he walks off into the trees without another word.
“You know, we need to start working on your conversation skills!” I call as I follow him, struggling to keep pace with his long-legged stride. “How are you able to shape-shift like that anyway?”
“There are many stories of how we came to be as we are. They have changed throughout the generations. My father told me that during an especially harsh winter, my kinsmen prayed not to Odin the Allfather but to the great wolf Fenrir. We prayed to hunt as wolves do to provide for our families, and so the Father Wolf sent a mighty beast into the woods for us to hunt. The beast put up a fight. Many warriors died by his fangs and claws before the mighty wolf was finally felled. My great-grandfather drank his blood and consumed his heart, skinned his pelt, and wore it as we do now. He inherited the wolf’s strength and became a mighty hunter, and we never had to fear starvation or cold again.”
I can certainly see the perks of being able to transform into a fearsome predator at will. “But you’re dependent on a mate or else you risk turning into that thing forever.” The memory of that huge bipedal wolf makes me shiver.
Wulfric dips his head in a solemn nod. “You make it sound like a curse, but a mate is a cherished person who can save us from the worst of our bestial nature. The one who can help us maintain that balance between man and wolf. It is a blessing.”
“Too bad you got stuck with me.” My ex got stuck with an overly anxious boyfriend nowhere near as talented as he was. Now Wulfric’s stuck with a weak human.
He glances at me but doesn’t say anything.
“Gee, Kieran, you’re not so bad,” I say, poorly imitating his Scandinavian accent.
He only grunts.
What a guy, my Viking captor.
“Here’s a good spot.” Wulfric stops amid a cluster of trees, branches heavy with frost.
For what? What does he have in store for me?
Swallowing my nerves, I say, “What are we doing? Going to lick a tree, see whose tongue sticks first?”
Wulfric makes a face. “Is that what you do in your time for entertainment?”
I roll my eyes. Don’t make jokes around Wulfric. Noted.
“I’m going to shift, and you’re going to hunt me.”
I choke on the frosty air. “What—”
“I will act as real wolves do, and they are often skittish of humans and will avoid a confrontation unless provoked.” Striding toward me, Wulfric says, “Don’t let me hear you coming. Don’t hold back. If the opportunity to shoot presents itself, do not hesitate. But try and avoid my face. I want to be presentable for the ceremony.”
“What ceremony?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Our mating ceremony on the night of the full moon.”
The shock of his words falls heavy into the pit of my stomach. Training for the Hunter’s Moon trials has preoccupied so much of my head this week that I haven’t stopped to think about what awaits me at the end of all this… if I don’t die during the hunt. Something else I am trying hard not to think about. Oh god. I could die trying to kill this wolf, and if I live, then… then I will be mated to Wulfric.
“Kieran.” Big hands slap down on my shoulders, making me jump. “Stop.”
“W-what?”
“Whatever you’re doing now. You cannot hesitate. Hesitation is death.”
I try to swallow but even the muscles in my throat are paralyzed.
Wulfric shoves my bow against my chest and squeezes my stiff fingers, making them curl around the wood. His steady hands make me envious. How can he be so fearless? “You did this trial, right?”
“To earn my furs, aye. All ulfhednar undertake the Hunter’s Moon trial.”
“Weren’t you freaked out? Scared, I mean.”
I expect ridicule for even asking. Surely a great and powerful alpha like Wulfric has never known fear. He probably popped out of the womb, cut his own umbilical cord with an axe, and killed his first enemy by age one.
“Terrified.” Wulfric turns away from me and surveys the woods. The trees tower over him, making him appear small. “I forget that I was human once. Vulnerable in ways ulfhednar are not. Many undertake the trial. Many do not survive. I wasn’t sure I would live to don my furs as my ancestors did before me. But I did. As will you. The gods would not give you to me only to tear us apart. This I believe, even if I question their choice of mate.”
“Not exactly my first choice either,” I grumble. At least it will only be temporary. And once I’m back to my timeline, good riddance to him. Although, once past his constant scowls and the fact that he has a giant monster inside him on a hair trigger, Wulfric isn’t that bad. He’s growing on me. Kind of like a benign tumor.
“Turn away. I will shift, and you will pursue me.”
I do as he says, facing a tree and closing my eyes like I’m a kid playing hide-and-go-seek again. Frost crunches under huge paws. I wait a few seconds longer, then open my eyes and turn around. Wulfric is gone, but his huge paws left an easy trail to follow. Still, I’ll need to be quiet so he doesn’t know I’m following him.
Freeing an arrow from my quiver, I bend my knees and creep into the trees to begin the hunt.
A black wolf the size of a horse seems like it would be easy to track, but Wulfric is surprisingly stealthy. His dark coat blends in with the shadows of the woods and boulders. The only reason I can track him at all is because of the snow. When I glimpse a ripple of movement between the trees, I freeze with my heart in my throat.
I know he’s still human, but it’s hard to convince the primal instincts screaming Predator! at me that the huge wolf prowling through the trees still has a human mind. It doesn’t seem like he’s heard me coming as he lopes farther into the trees. Am I supposed to… what, shoot at him? What if I hurt him?
Well, he did tell me to hunt him. If I don’t, he’ll probably bitch and moan at me later. Swallowing hard, I grab an arrow and draw back the bow, inhaling deep. The muscles in my arm begin to burn as I aim, and my fingers shake. And… now! I release the arrow, heart racing. It bounces off a tree next to Wulfric. The big wolf gives me the bitchiest look I’ve ever seen on an animal, then takes off into the trees.
“Damn it!” I mutter and give chase.
For almost an hour, Wulfric makes me track him through the woods. A few times I make the stupid mistake of being upwind, which blows my scent toward him, or snapping a twig under my boot, or tripping and stumbling through the brush. But I get an idea. I decide to wait him out. Wulfric is expecting me, after all. If he thinks I got lost and lets his guard down, that could work to my advantage.
So I park my butt behind a tree and wait. Wulfric keeps going on ahead while I get as comfy as I can on the cold, hard ground. Kind of wish I brought some snacks. Some time passes. I close my eyes as I take in deep, refreshing breaths of the forest air. The woods are nice and quiet. It’s almost relaxing. I never had time to just chill like this back in my time.
After an indefinite amount of time, the unmistakable snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves gets louder and louder. Yawning quietly, I grab my bow and peer around the tree. The big black wolf sniffs the ground, then looks both ways. A confused whine is tugged from his chest. Aww. He almost sounds like a dog missing his family.
I draw the bow as he turns in the other direction, looking west. With the perfect shot all lined up, I fire—only for Wulfric to move a few inches to the left. A pained yelp makes me gasp. Wulfric lifts his back leg, snapping at the arrow embedded in his flank but unable to pull it out.
Oh fuck! I would have just shot the ground near his paw. I didn’t want to hit him!
“Wulfric!” I throw down my bow and dash around the tree as the big wolf collapses onto his side. Shit! How bad is it? What if I nicked a super important artery or something and he’s about to bleed out?
Kneeling in the mud, I hover my hand over the arrow protruding from his leg. The dark fur around the injury is already glistening with blood. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you!” Fuck, what do I do? I grab the arrow shaft and wince when Wulfric whines, clawing at the ground. “I know, I know! I’m sorry!” His pained whines are killing me. He kicks at me, trying to crawl away.
“No, don’t move!” I grab handfuls of his fur and tug him back down. His silver eyes are so wide, the whites are visible, and a snarl curls his lip. A quiver racks his body. Is he… scared? Shit. He’d mentioned how much trouble humans have caused. Could being injured and vulnerable bring back some bad memories?
“Wulfric.” Carefully, against every instinct I have, I touch his side and begin to rub. His fur is coarse and thick, matted with leaves and a bit dirty but still surprisingly pleasant. “I’m sorry. I’m going to help you, okay? Just… trust me. I have to get it out, okay?”
Wulfric growls.
“I’ll do it quickly, and I’ll warn you before I do. I promise.”
With a resigned groan, Wulfric lays his head back down.
“Just don’t bite me, please.” I grasp the arrow shaft. “I’m going to pull in one, two… three!”
I yank as hard as I can and Wulfric yelps as I wrench the arrow free. Some blood gushes down his leg but before my eyes, the wound knits itself closed. I continue petting him until the blood has stopped flowing. Exhaling, I pat his ribs. “There. Feeling better?”
His body ripples below me and in seconds he’s human and lying in the dirt. His heaving breaths slow and he relaxes against the ground. I can’t seem to pull my hand away from his body. His pained whines continue to play on repeat in my head.
“I’m so sorry. I wanted to hit the ground, not your leg. You moved at the last second.”
Wulfric just shakes his head. “That was a good shot. If you do that tomorrow, it should slow the beast down.”
“Are you okay? It doesn’t hurt?”
“I’ve had worse.” Wulfric shrugs. It’s not reassuring. I don’t like the idea of him being hurt like that.
“Wulfric. Come on. Be honest.”
Silver eyes find mine. “The wound healed cleanly. I’m fine.”
Blowing out a breath, I glance at the hole in his trousers where the arrow entered him in his wolf form. “Seriously, if you need me to get you something—”
“Kieran.” Wulfric grabs my hand, making my heart leap. His gaze leaves mine, lingering on where our hands meet. The sensation of his warm, calloused skin on mine feels good. Really good. Wulfric wets his lips and looks away. “Thank you.”
“For shooting you in the ass?”
He snorts. “For…” While he finds his words, his thumb traces circles into my skin. “For helping me.”
Something that feels suspiciously like affection warms my chest when I notice his blush. “No problem. And hey, your wolf form is adorable.”
He glares at me. “A predator is not adorable, Kieran.”
“Have you seen your big ears and fluffy tail? They’re precious!”
Scowling, Wulfric shoves to his feet. I follow him back to the village, teasing him all the way.
For some reason he lets me, and I don’t realize that I’ve stopped trailing behind him until I find myself suddenly by his side. Our hands knock together as we walk. He doesn’t push me away, doesn’t demand I walk behind him in some show of superiority. It feels like we’re on equal footing or closer to it than before.
But what scares me is that I don’t hate it.
Not even a little.