16. Lessons of the Woods #2
I huff a laugh. “Not child abuse. Child abuse would be throwing a kid out here without teaching him how to survive first. By the time King was done drilling those skills into me, Survival Week was a cinch.”
She harrumphs, unconvinced as she plays with the ends of her hair. “There’s gotta be a better way.”
“Probably, but it’s the Fury way.” I smirk, then toss back some of her sass. “We’ll do it with our kids when they’re sixteen.”
She swings narrowed eyes on me. “The hell we will.”
“Ah, so you do want kids with me.”
“Ugh.” She gives me a reprimanding look. “You tricked me.”
She lets her hair plop to her shoulder and crosses her arms under the water. “Point being, I’m not sending my kids into the woods to die. I’d rather keep my little hellions around, thank you very much.”
My chest thrums with the way this conversation is going, so I keep it rolling, wondering how far she’ll let me go.
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach them everything they need to know before we kick our little cygnets out of the nest.”
She frowns. “You’d have to teach the girls too, you know.”
A flare of protectiveness sparks through me. No way am I letting any of my girls be put in danger. But… she’s right.
“Deal,” I relent gruffly. “The more my family knows, the better.”
She seems to consider that as her gaze sweeps the woods before landing back on me.
“Would you teach me to live off the land?”
“You… want that?” Fuck, I love that question, but I can’t help pointing out the obvious. “That implies you’re sticking around.”
She huffs. “ No . It implies I’m bored as hell. All I did while you were gone today was twiddle my thumbs. If we’re stuck here, I want to know everything I can.”
“Hey, now, you did more than twiddle. It’s squeaky clean in that there cabin.”
She scowls. “Trust me, that was a one-time thing. I am not cut out to be a housewife homebody.”
“Oh, I know.” My smile is soft. “You were born to fly, little bird.”
She hesitates, eyes dropping to my mouth for a split-second before she says nonchalantly, “Cool. It’s settled. You’ll teach me. We’ll start with catching trout, following trails, shooting the crossbow, picking berries?—”
I bark a laugh. “Don’t speed past that crossbow part now.” I waggle the bow in a “no” gesture. “You ain’t touching this thing until I know good and well you won’t shoot the messenger.”
She sighs dramatically. “ Fine , but I bet you’d feel pretttty guilty if I wound up dead, killed by whatever mysterious thing calls my name in the woods. A silly little city girl like me might head straight toward that danger.”
I smirk. “You are pretty reckless.”
That earns me another scowl, so I lift my hand in surrender.
“Alright, tell you what. I’ll teach you a thing or two about a thing or two, how ’bout that?”
She whirls around, carelessly swishing water and revealing her dusky pink nipples. “Really?”
It takes every bit of my willpower to keep my eyes on hers.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, really.” I point the bolt at her in warning. “But we start on beginner-level shit and work our way up.”
She licks her lips, and I lift my knee up to block her view of the hard-on growing in my boxer briefs. I’m not embarrassed that my cock responds to her so easily—it knows who it belongs to—but I don’t want to scare the girl away just when she’s letting me in.
“So what’s the first lesson?” she asks, then reconsiders. “Besides the whole ‘if you hear your name in the woods, no, you didn’t’ thing. That still sounds like a superstition, by the way.”
“Superstitions are, until they aren’t. It’s like getting a cold chill after stepping on a grave.
Or when leaves turn over on a pretty, windless day, and then lo and behold, it rains.
” She looks at me like I have two heads.
I wave my bolt dismissively. “Trust me. It’s true.
Dash can explain it way better than me.”
“Sure he can,” she mocks.
I snort, but think for a second, trying to figure out something she can see for herself that isn’t just an old wives’ tale.
Glancing around the trees, it hits me, and I almost kick myself for not explaining it sooner.
I sweep my bolt to point at the swaths of paint high up on some of the tree trunks.
“See those red markings?”
She nods quickly, so eager for information that droplets drip down her cheek with the movement.
“They mark territory. Black is for Dark Corner, Fury land. White’s for Old Bridge, Wilde land. We’re in Lost Cove, neutral ground, which is red. Because no blood should be spilt on neutral ground.”
Her brow wrinkles. “Does that ever happen? We’re safe here, right?”
“Of course we are.” I scowl, offended she’d suggest otherwise. “The good thing about being unable to get out is that no Wilde can get in. No one knows we’re here, and I’ve got traps set in every direction. I’ll know if anyone gets within a quarter mile.”
She skims her hands over the water, not looking at me. “Where are the other traps?”
I smirk. “ That I’m not telling you.”
She frowns like I’ve caught her.
“Don’t pout. You’re not going anywhere without me, so I’ll make sure you don’t trip any. But if I told you now, I bet dollars to donuts you’d try something reckless, thinking you could trick me. I’d somehow wind up knocked out and hogtied in tulle, butt-ass naked come morning so you could escape.”
Her eyes roll, all but confirming my suspicion.
“I’d come back for you,” she argues half-heartedly. “Eventually.” Then she cuts me a sharp glance. “After you learned your lesson.”
I chuckle, and she huffs, continuing. “But you know I wouldn’t have to do any of that if we left right now. It stopped raining, so what’s keeping us from getting outta here?”
As if the weather itself wants to defy her, she jolts and glares up at the sky, wrinkling her nose as she hastily wipes off what must’ve been a raindrop.
What’s left of any path I could find is covered with collapsed trees, slick with mud that’d suck your boots clean off. Even I had trouble climbing through it to see the other side.
“Storm’s still in the air. Not to mention you’re still hurt, birdie.” I shake my head, letting my concern show. “The only safe path out that I’ve found would kill that ankle.”
She whines softly, “I said I have a high pain tolerance.”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” I tease lightly. “You haven’t made so much as a peep about an injury half my high school football team would’ve cried like babies over.”
“See? I’ll be fine,” she insists.
I force a playful smile, though it feels strained as my hand presses over the ache in my chest.
“Ready to get rid of me so soon, baby?”
She rolls her lips between her teeth, eyes seeing too much before finally murmuring, “Don’t call me baby.”
Then she slips beneath the water.
“The hell I won’t,” I mutter to the ripples she leaves behind.
I’ve seen the way she shivers at my nicknames for her, that one most of all.
There’s no way I’m stopping when it’s the one button I know works every time I want her to feel something for me.
At this point, with the slow, unenthusiastic jabs she’s trying to throw my way, her rebellion and spite seem more like phantom limbs she thinks she’s supposed to keep using against a man she’s supposed to keep hating.
She surfaces with a breath, no longer facing me, and her voice is back to that devil-may-care tone.
“Well, if you’re gonna hold me hostage in the wilderness, the least you can do is teach me which type of clay fits best into my seven-step skincare routine.”
My jaw goes slack at that.
She’s back to unserious Luna, but she didn’t shut me down. Fuck, I’ll take the win.
I stare as she slicks her wet hair back, strands now darkened to a deep plum. They tease her sexy skull tattoo on her upper back, spilling water over the ink and down her spine as she stands tall enough for me to see the beginning of her pert little ass.
The tempting nymph is daring me to look now.
But a flash of white at the edge of the lake catches my eye, and I straighten.
Before I can stop myself, I slip silently into the water, sinking deeper as I make my way to Luna. She tenses as I slowly cover her mouth with one hand while my other arm wraps around her slippery, naked waist. But she doesn’t fight me as I pull her against my chest, trusting me.
Fuck. That feels good.
I lower my mouth to her ear and whisper, “Hold your breath, little bird.”
She inhales through her nose as I dip us both farther into the water.
“And don’t… make… a sound.”