8. CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHT
PEM
Iseol is a dangerous little thing. Intoxicatingly sweet and innocent, but at the core of her, there’s something wild waiting to be unleashed.
Desire can transform even the most docile of creatures into feral beasts—and this is what I want from Iseol.
For her to shed the many layers of propriety and unravel in my arms like she did the other day. But as much as I want to pull her down to the snow and into my lap, I don’t.
I promised Ramani—and myself—that I would talk with Iseol. I want to prove to the tiny Gumiho that it’s not just her body I crave.
It’s her mind.
Her wit.
Her smile.
Her.
Everything that makes Iseol… Iseol .
Women throw themselves at me left and right, but they don’t want me . They want Cromlech, the center for the Goodfellows.
Iseol is the first person who’s looked at me and sees Pem. In her eyes, I feel like a real person, not some hockey celebrity that girls want to be with just to say they’ve been with me.
She’s the first girl who it doesn’t feel like she’s trying to use me, and in return, I refuse to use her. Because it would be so easy to just seduce Iseol.
But she deserves more than a quick fumble in the snow.
Iseol deserves to be wooed, to know that she’s appreciated. And I’m going to give her that—no matter how short my time is here in Iceland.
The thought unsettles me.
In a couple of weeks, I’ll be going back to Wales, and who knows when Iseol will be leaving. Eventually, we’ll part ways.
“Can I ask you a serious question?” I murmur, my voice breaking the quiet between us.
The Gumiho freezes, the playful grin dropping off her face.
“Erm, of course,” she says slowly. “I suppose I handle serious better than I do flirting.”
Tucking her hand in mine, I pull her further onto the ice, and we begin to skate. As usual, our movements are perfectly in sync with one another.
Like we’re two halves of a whole.
“For the record, I think you flirt phenomenally. I’m about to lose my horns over here,” I tease.
Iseol’s smile returns, albeit a little shyer. “‘Lose your horns?’ Is that a euphemism for, um, the other day? When you…” She chances a glance at my crotch before her gaze darts away.
I let out a bark of laughter. “You mean when I came in my pants?” She blushes a pretty purple, and the length of my therys throbs. “No. ‘Lose my horns’ is a Puca saying for ‘lose my head’.”
She bites her lips, her tiny white teeth catching at the plump red flesh, and I groan under my breath at the sight.
“And I make you lose your head?”
Images of Iseol’s body wrapped around mine flash through my head.
Shite.
Focus, Pem.
“Yes, you absolutely drive me barmy. I can barely stay on topic, which was a serious question I had. For you.”
I stop talking, coughing into my other hand to cover my embarrassment. The woman’s turned my brain to mush, and all she’s done is smile at me.
“What I mean to say is…when do you leave?”
“Leave?” she echoes.
“Yes—back to Korea?”
“Oh.” Iseol hesitates. “Um, well, I don’t have a set date. I planned on staying in Iceland at least until the end of the month.”
Longer than I planned to stay.
“I was going to go home in a couple of weeks, but maybe I could stay longer—if you wished. I’ll be pretty busy the next week and a half and won’t be able to see you much, so I would like to extend my visit to spend more time with you.”
Iseol squeezes my hand. “I would like that. What do you have to do this coming week, if I might ask?”
“I have work.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here for work. I’ve been bothering you so much.”
“No! It’s okay. My mornings are free for the time being, and I enjoy spending them with you. I haven’t felt this relaxed in years—and it’s not just because you made me come in my pants.”
A strange sound—a cross between a whimper and a squeak—erupts from Iseol’s lush lips. I have to tamp back my growl of need.
She’s aroused.
I can smell it dripping down her thighs like the other day, and something dark and unleashed crawls under my skin.
One thing that I learned about Gumiho while reading about their fox marble is that their females go into a heat cycle much like female Fauns. And the male Gumiho are like the males of my mother’s kind, too, and go into a rut.
Although these cycles differ from one monster species to another, I can still sense its latency in Iseol. The aroma of her heat perfumes the air.
Either she’s close…
Or she’s suppressing it, like me.
I want to ask, but I know such a personal question would make Iseol uncomfortable. And it’s not any of my business.
It’s not.
But now I can’t stop thinking about whether Gumiho and Puca are compatible. Or if Iseol were my mate, how she’d look swollen with our baby.
“Wanna play some hockey?”
The stupid words are out before I can think them through, but they’re better than what I was just thinking.
Iseol stops skating, dropping her hand from mine. It takes all my strength to remain still and not snatch it back.
Behave, Cromlech.
Hearing my coach’s voice helps cool some of my ardor as well as remind me that Iseol is a lady—not that I’ve treated her as such recently.
I wince, wondering how crude she probably thinks I am. Her culture is so much more reserved than mine.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve played hockey. Usually, I’m just on the sidelines, but that sounds fun.”
“Yeah? Give me a sec.”
Skating off, I find two identical branches felled by the recent snow storm as well as a rogue pine cone. I scoop them up and return to Iseol.
“It’s going to be more like the street hockey I played growing up where we would make sticks and pucks out of whatever we could find. What do you want to use for baskets?”
“We could use some pine boughs or invisible nets—but only if you promise not to cheat.”
She says this so primly that I can’t help but chuckle. “Cheat?! I know Puca are known to be tricksters, but that doesn’t mean we don’t play fair.”
“Ok. I trust you.”
The words are simple, but they have a profound effect on me. There’s so much sincerity in them, as if Iseol is saying something more.
“First to three?” I suggest, working around the constriction in my chest.
She nods, and we crouch at the center of our makeshift rink, skates biting into the ice. I hold the pine cone high above my head and shoot her a grin.
The moment it drops, hitting with a muted thud, Iseol lunges forward, her blades slicing the frozen surface like a knife through butter.
She shoots forward, a blur of green silk and determination. The Gumiho’s skates throw up a spray of ice as she cuts sharply to the left.
The pine cone dances between her makeshift twig and the ice like it’s magnetized, her movements so precise I can’t help but stare.
By the time I react, scrambling to guard my net, it’s too late—her slapshot sends the pine cone skidding across the ice, landing squarely in the invisible net.
One to zero.
Iseol skates over, her expression nonchalant, but mischief dances in her dark gaze.
The little minx is good.
“Way to light the lamp,” I praise, still a little too dumbfounded to say anything else.
“Thanks.”
She scoops up the pine cone with her stick and skates back to the center where we started. It’s her turn to drop the puck, and this time, I’m ready.
I snag the pine cone with a smooth flick of my stick, the cold air stinging my face as I spin on my skates and dart toward her net.
The ice groans faintly beneath my weight as I slash across the pretend rink, the ‘puck’ bumping against my twig with satisfying precision.
Iseol’s right behind me, her shadow long in the morning light, and I can hear the faint hiss of her blades slicing closer as she rushes past me.
Unfortunately, the Gumiho is a much better tendy than I am. She blocks my shots before I can put any cookies in the basket.
In fact, the woman’s completely relentless.
Iseol moves with the precision of a sniper, reading my every move like she’s got my playbook memorized.
I fake left, hoping to deke her out, but the Gumiho’s already there, her stick swooping down to steal the puck.
The pine cone skitters off toward the boards—well, the imaginary ones—and I have to scramble to recover as Iseol giggles.
“I thought you were born with a twig in your hand?”
A grin stretches across my face despite the sting to my pride. What a little brat—and fuck if I don’t love it.
“Watch your chirping, ma’am.”
“Or else what?”
Instead of answering, I push harder, my blades biting into the ice as I rush to intercept her, but she’s faster.
Iseol snaps a wrist shot past me, and the pine cone slides neatly into the invisible net as her smile morphs into a smirk.
Fuck.
Two to zero.
“Nice snipe,” I compliment, skating over to reset the puck.
“You still haven’t told me what’ll happen if I keep talking.”
She raises a brow, her tails flicking behind her, reminding me of where she likes to be touched—how she likes to be touched.
“Egg me on and find out,” I challenge.
Her response is a sly grin that’s all fox .
The next faceoff is mine, and I manage to grab possession. I barrel toward her net, determined to at least put one point on the board.
But the talented woman cuts me off with a textbook poke check, sending the puck spinning out of my control.
Before I can recover, Iseol’s already in position, her stick a blur as she winds up. The pine cone snaps off her stick with a crisp crack, sliding across the ice as if she’s wielding magic instead of a branch.
It skids cleanly into the net, the satisfying thunk of its landing reverberating in the quiet. I groan, slumping forward as Iseol claps.
A fucking hat trick.
Three to zero.
“Hatty!” the Gumiho calls, twirling in a triumphant circle, the skirts of her green hanbok flaring out around her.
I stand there, hands on my hips, shaking my head in disbelief. “Shite, woman, you’re a bloody ringer.”
She laughs in delight before looking up at the sky and squinting. “I’ve got to go. Rematch tomorrow?”
“I don’t know if my pride can take it.”
“Pft, I think you’ll be fine. Besides, I want to find out.”
Iseol skates over, taking my hand and pressing a sweet kiss against the palm before turning to leave. It’s not until she’s transformed into a fox that I realize she never finished her sentence.
“Hey! Find out what?”
The gorgeous white vixen whirls around, her nine tails swaying hypnotically behind her.
“What happens when I keep chirping?”
Then she disappears, and I have to lean against my makeshift twig to stay upright as lust slams into me.
That little troublemaker just dared me to punish her, proving just how dangerous a creature Iseol is.
But two can play her game.
And I plan on making the Gumiho eat her words.