Sirena
The night holds its breath.
Every inch of me feels raw — scraped open by the chase, by him. The forest presses close, every sound magnified: the hiss of leaves, the call of an owl, the skitter of creatures, the crackle of cooling embers carried from the festival’s fire, the rhythm of my heartbeat tangled with the echo of his.
He’s behind me. I can feel him — not touching, but near enough that my skin knows exactly where he stands. The air between us is consumed with heat and gravity.
I can’t run anymore. My legs won’t obey.
My lungs ache, but not from exhaustion — from the pressure of everything I’ve been holding back.
My body trembles, chest heaving as I’m trying to catch my breath.
I press my thighs together tightly, desperate to feel the friction I need for a release.
My body feels as if it’s betraying me, and I am consumed by fear and want all at once.
I close my eyes. The mask sticks to my skin, slick with sweat. I can taste ash on my tongue, and it tastes like him — like smoke and danger and something forbidden.
“Why aren’t you running anymore, Little Doe?”
His voice is a low rasp that moves through me like a physical thing. It’s closer than I expect — close enough that I feel the heat of his breath ghost against the shell of my ear. I swallow hard. My throat feels dry. “Because you’d catch me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer. Not in words. But the silence between us changes — thickens, sharpens, like the moment before lightning splits the sky.
I can feel him step closer. The heat of his body brushing my back, his hand brushing my waist, not giving me the one thing my body is craving.
The tension between us is unbearable. I can’t think straight, can’t see straight.
I’m consumed with one feral need — desire.
My body reacts before my mind catches up — a full-body shiver that starts low and spreads upward, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
I should be terrified. I should be screaming, but all I can do is stand there, trembling, waiting for him to make his move.
The forest feels alive around us. Watching. Listening. Holding its breath with me.
Before I can comprehend what is happening, his hand reaches from behind me to grasp my throat, holding me in place.
His thumb grazes the ribbon at the base of my neck, still holding my mask firmly in place on my face.
The anticipation of what he is planning courses through my body.
I can feel my knees beginning to give out, unable to hold my body weight before he releases my throat, his touch disappearing as quickly as it came.
When he finally speaks again, his voice is distant and rough. “You wanted me to catch you.”
It isn’t a question, and still, I lie. “No.”
His soft laugh cuts through the dark, low and knowing. “Then why are you still here?”
I don’t have an answer.
Only a pulse. Only heat.
The warmth is spreading through me for the number of times I can’t count tonight, starting low in my stomach and radiating down between my thighs. If I wanted to check, I know I’d be slick with need. My pulse races every time he speaks, my body betraying the fear in my mind with undeniable want.
I try to take one step, but his hand finds me again — catching my wrist, gentle but firm. His skin is warm, calloused, and steady. The contrast to my racing heart nearly undoes me.
The sound that leaves me isn’t a word — it’s a gasp, sharp and desperate.
His thumb traces my wrist, and I’m certain he can feel my pulse pounding. Without thinking, I instinctively lean back into him, my body saying what my mouth won’t voice aloud.
He steps in closer behind me once again. His hard chest meets my back, solid and sure, and I can feel the bulge of his cock twitching against my ass under his jeans. His breath fans over my neck, and I swear I can feel his heartbeat through my spine.
“Do you know what happens to prey when they stop running?” he murmurs.
I shake my head slow, afraid to speak, afraid of what will happen if I do.
“They get caught.”
His right hand lets go of my wrist to encapsulate my throat once again, tipping my head back as he kisses my neck, and a soft moan escapes me.
His other hand grabs my left hip, pulling my ass into him, making sure I know exactly what he plans to do.
He reaches down, fingers grazing the edge of my panties, and I know he can feel how soaked they are.
He slips one finger inside and brushes my clit, sending fireworks through my vision.
My knees buckle. I bite my lip to stop the sound clawing its way up my throat.
His fingers tighten around my throat, just enough to remind me how easy it would be for him to stop me from leaving; How much I want him to.
“Run,” he says as he removes his fingers from my clit where I so desperately crave his touch, his voice dark and silky.
“But know that if I chase you again…” He leans closer, lips against my ear.
“I will not stop this time, and you will pay for running from me when I’m so close to having you exactly where I want you. ”
The words set something off inside me — sharp, hot, feral, uncontrollable.
I don’t move. It would be pointless to try.
I don’t think I even breathe. I can feel his breath, hot on my ear, the drag of his wolf mask through my hair.
My body responds to him, eagerly, a helpless response to a need I can’t quite explain.
When I finally turn to face him, the mask glints in the faint light, catching on the strong line of his jaw.
The Wolf’s eyes are hollow and black at night, endless.
He’s still wearing it, and yet somehow, that makes it better.
Worse? My body tells me, it’s everything.
“I want to see you,” I whisper.
His head tilts, slow, and animalistic. “You see enough.”
I lift my hand to touch his mask, desperate to see who has been chasing me all night, but he catches my wrist before I can.
He brings my hand to his mouth, the faint brush of his lips over my pulse sends chills through my entire body, and goosebumps rising on my flesh.
The world around me feels as if it’s spinning.
“Little Doe,” he says softly, his voice a growl wrapped in tenderness. “If I show you who and what I am, you’ll never run again.”
That’s exactly what I want, I think. My breath catches as he presses closer — one inch, then another.
Every nerve in my body lights up, the air is thick with heat and want.
His lips work up my forearm, kissing and nibbling and licking along the way.
My body responds instinctively, a moan I was not expecting escaping my throat.
My brain is telling me to run, that no good can turn out from something like this, but my body betrays my mind. Feeling this man pressed against my back, I cannot function. My heart is racing so fast, it drowns out my thoughts and reasoning.
“I’m not afraid,” I whisper. “Not of you.”
He exhales like it hurts to hear it. He lets go of my wrist, and his fingers slide into my hair, tangling with the ribbon, drawing my head back just enough for his breath to find my throat.
My pulse is erratic, and my restraint to try to fight this is dissolving. I want this as badly as he does, I can feel it.
The sound that leaves me is somewhere between a sigh and a sob. When his hand tightens, I realize the truth that’s been waiting to be admitted all night.
I absolutely, desperately want to be caught.