Carried Away

The kiss continued, as though they had all the time in the world to explore one another. With every breath and lingering desire. Wynter pressed against the stranger, the healer. The man who had so carefully, and with great consideration, freed her.

With tongues tangled and frantic breath, she found her arms around his neck. His fingers ran through her hair. Tugging gently at the strands in a way that thrilled and delighted. Her scalp prickled with interest as fevered blood rushed to the points of arousal throughout her body.

Enraptured, she pushed away her rogue thoughts of doubt. The voice that wondered in the back of her mind, what this made her? To kiss another, to be enthralled by another man so quickly after Malachi. She had left her lover three days ago. Only three. Was she really so keen to give her body to another?

Had Malachi meant so little? She had given everything to the man, even in the depths of his depravity and his many betrayals. She had forsaken her name and family to be his. If she could move on so easily, then perhaps she was shallow and stupid.

It wasn’t like that. Wynter struggled to remain in the moment with the man, pushing against her own thoughts. Fin was…this man…were their paths pre-destined to cross? It had felt that way with Malachi. At least at the beginning. He had seen her.

Her fingers drew against his shoulders as his teeth ran over her bottom lip and the kiss broke. She was panting, shivering in his arms as she dropped her hands to the front of his dark shirt. Wynter clung to him, a port in the storm of her thoughts.

Fin encouraged her to look up at him, searching her wide blue eyes. He frowned, and she could understand his silent confusion. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her hold on his shirt. She was clinging to him, lips full and rosy. Cheeks flushed with desire.

She thought that he might say something. But before he could summon the words to speak she had pulled him forward again. An insistent tug upon his shirt saw him bend. Her mouth crashed against his own. As though their previous kiss was simply the match to light the kindling.

She poured oil on the flames as he returned her passion. Stroking his hands down her spine as she held him tight. Determined in her grip. Whatever had seen her hesitate, he realized, she wanted to move past it.

Wynter moaned against his mouth as his hands curled around her rear. He squeezed gently, sensing her hesitation before she kissed him again. Harder, more demanding and eager as she seemed to mould herself against his body. The heat raged between them, his body alight with fire.

How far could the madness go? She wondered. How far should she let it, and cast the thought aside. He taunted her with his touches, the teasing exploration of her form with his hands. No longer slow, now longer languid but determined as he massaged the curve of her behind, lifting the cheeks and gripping them. Her body pulsed with need and she kissed him.

She wouldn’t let fear dictate her life. She would prove it to herself, she would prove it to Fate and the world. Nothing and no one would control her. I will write my own destiny, she resolved. I will be free.

If making her own path meant kissing a stranger and enjoy the insanity of that moment, then she would embrace it. His hands lifted to her ribs and her breath shuttered. He lifted one hand, cupping a breast, seeking out the hard pebble that had been pressing against his chest. She hissed against his lips as his fingers raked over the sensitive nub.

Why was she enjoying this? Why was she enjoying the little sparks of pain? Was she wrong? Had Malachi’s dark desires made her into something perverted? But he had never done this, perhaps that was simply why she enjoyed it. The novelty of touch, of being touched in new ways.

She pressed herself into his wicked hands as he broke the kiss, but only to leave a trail of burning little nips and touches along the line of her jaw and down her throat. She could feel his hands on the boning of her corset as he bent the panels, rubbing them against the skin beneath. The junction between her legs was burning, throbbing with need.

Wynter gasped as he gripped her behind once more, before bending to grab at her skirts, hitching up one side to the hip. She whimpered then, unable to contact the sound of her desire. Unwilling to hold it back any longer. She was melting before him, there was little point in denying it.

Yet as he bent, she heard the low threat of a growl from the darkness. Wynter blinked, shaking herself as she stumbled back away from the man. He stood, staring after her as she put distance between them.

‘Wolves,’ she whispered, gesturing to the trees that surrounded them. He blinked again, perhaps he hadn’t understood. They’d been inhabiting their own, perfect moment. Their own tiny world in the forest, under the moonlight, enclosed by treacherous roses. Wynter knew that whilst she was many things, and probably a woman who was too easily led by lust, she was also a huntress.

Was Fin able to use the sword at his waist? She’d thought he was a warrior, confident and capable, but he hadn’t moved, only stood, watching her with confusion in the heart beat of time that it took for her to move. She scrambled through the thorns, fingers closing around the bow that had been lost, and the quiver of arrows that had been thrown clear when she’d stumbled.

Another low growl echoed through the trees, followed by a scream. They both turned, Fin drawing his sword in a fluid motion as a large horse burst through the undergrowth. Eyes wide with terror it charged towards them, nostrils flaring.

‘Horse!’ Fin lunged, hand outstretched to catch the bridle. But the animal dodged him, pushing back on its front legs and darting around the man. Wynter turned, trying to catch the flying bridle as the hose thundered past. Fin was running, chasing after the creature. Wynter stared after him, marveling at the speed that he moved. Until a howl broke out through the darkness.

She jolted forward, stumbling before she regained her balance. One hand on her sword, the other gripping her bow she followed the man and horse, racing through the forest as they blundered a path through the undergrowth. Her heart was racing once more with fear. She could hear the excited yaps and calls of a pack of wolves behind her and groaned.

They’d picked up her scent, or Fin’s or the horses. She just about make out the man in the distance, running after his rampant mount. The flash of steel in his hand catching in the moonlight as he jumped over a falling log. She was slower, struggling to keep them in sight as they dodged between tree’s.

Wynter gripped her weapons, watching where she placed her feet, grateful to find a path through the roses and the thorns that seemed to stretch endlessly through this part of the Forest. Perhaps Fin’s runaway horse knew the forest well enough to avoid them more easily.

Athletic, she leapt over the same fallen log. Gripping her skirts to her hip in her sword hand. It wasn’t perfect, but it meant her legs had some freedom. She landed on the hard baked dirt on the other side, grateful that she’d managed to leave behind the soft slippers of the nobility, in exchange for solid leather boots. Even if they hadn’t saved her from all of the thorns.

Had Fin caught his horse? The wolves were closing in. There was a flash of grey to her right and she struggled, forcing herself to run fast. Chest burning from the race. She couldn’t outrun wolves and now they were flanking her. She would have to turn, and fight, but where? She scanned the ground ahead, searching desperately for a decent place to make her stand.

Everywhere except the path the horse had trampled was covered in the wicked vines. Frustration saw her shout, Fin had vanished from sight and another blur appeared on her left. She was caught on both sides. Wynter looked up, searching for a tree that she could swing onto. There was a gnarled oak to her right, but running towards it meant trying to break through the roses, closer to the wolves.

Was there another choice? Where had Fin gone? There was a yap behind her and she pushed the last of her reserves into her speed, racing forward. She jumped, trying to clear the distance of roses, like trying to jump over a flood. Her arms outstretched, bow and in hand as she landed on the small rise of ground. There wasn’t time. She threw her bow up, into the branches of the tree and started to climb.

The nearest wolf, the flash of gray lunged close, snapping at her feet before bounding away. She felt sick, vision swimming from the race as she kicked out at the second wolf that came closer, turning to roar at the animal. It stared at her, tongue wagging before going into a position to pounce. She didn’t wait, she turned and started to climb, scrambling away from danger.

She would reach her bow, and find somewhere to perch and pick the wolves off, one by one. She made her plan. It was a good plan. But her hands were shaking and her knees felt weak. Where was Fin? Glancing down at the snapping, yowling Wolves that circled the tree she shuddered. The whole pack was here, at least. Hopefully he could get away…maybe he might even come back to help her…

Wynter drew a breath, she was out of reach of the wolves as they tried to climb the tree, paws and claws scrabbling on the bark. No. There was no relying on anyone else to save her.

She would save herself.