and nearly fell, but managed to only soak the hem of her skirt. When she reached the far bank, the pup called out again and she was off.
He shuddered and yowled as she came close. She put her hands up in a calming gesture and slowly stepped forward. It was too much, he struggled violently and pulled free of the tangle. She followed him, aiming to grab his body from behind, but he was fast and her boots were slick. She slipped twice and muddied her skirt and apron before righting herself and starting after him again.
They ran and ran. The poor little fur ball was exhausted and he finally gave, dropping onto the fallen leaves with an exaggerated sigh. Molly approached this time in a lowered stance, crawling the last few feet. She crouched and watched him for a long while. When his breathing finally slowed, she leaned forward to her knees and then her belly as she lay on the forest floor beside him and reached out tentatively to touch him.
He was so soft. She was amazed by the feel of him and took to petting the silky fluff, cringing at the few bald spots he’d created by tearing free. She cooed, and it only took a moment before he warmed to her, nuzzling his little black nose against her arm and inching closer.
They lay in the shadow of the trees for some time, until the pup became restless again and began to whine. Covered as he was in fluff, she could feel the bones of his ribs, the narrowness of his stomach. Slowly, she stood, taking him in her arms to carry him home, regardless of her father’s likely reaction.
It only took three steps to realize she didn’t know which way was home. She hadn’t noticed how far they’d come in the chase, so far that she’d lost the sound of the creek. She glanced around and, clutching the pup to her chest, headed toward what appeared to be an opening in the canopy of trees. If she could get out of the forest, she could find the creek and her path.
But when she reached the clearing, she was encircled by trees. She narrowed her eyes, a challenge to the dark forest, and headed back in, determined to find her way back.
Nearly an hour later, she realized someone was following her.
It had crept up on her, that feeling of being watched, that sensitivity to the softest noises at her every turn. She slowed, forcing herself to only glance back momentarily, not to run. There was nothing there but trees and shadows. She breathed deep as she turned back to continue, and then froze.
Standing casually in her path was the most terrifying, beautiful... creature in existence. He could not but be a creature, for he was no man.
Riven stood before the human girl, waiting for the instinct of flight to kick in. He looked her over as she stared blankly back at him. Her skirts were caked with mud, her hair a tangled mess. Filthy humans , he thought as he tried to estimate her age. No more than one and twenty, he was fairly certain, old enough for breeding stock at any rate. She was thin but her hips appeared adequate, sufficient bosom. Well enough , he decided. As his eyes returned to her face, he took in her expression, saw the coy smile, the flush of her skin. She was flirting with him.
She lowered the animal she held to present herself more fully. He closed the distance, grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him, her face contorted only a moment before smoothing as she pressed into him. He recoiled, moving her back by her upper arm.
She glared at him, understanding now that her advance was unwanted. “Well, you’re the one gaping at me,” she huffed, indicating her chest with a glance.
He stared at her, baffled, as she struggled to release his grip. He had never understood these creatures, but she was the oddest of the lot.
“Remove. Your. Hand,” she demanded firmly.
“Calm yourself,” he instructed in as even a tone as he could manage. She did just that, crossing her arms and slanting a hip. It seemed surprising she had accomplished the posture, given that one arm was solidly in
He shuddered and yowled as she came close. She put her hands up in a calming gesture and slowly stepped forward. It was too much, he struggled violently and pulled free of the tangle. She followed him, aiming to grab his body from behind, but he was fast and her boots were slick. She slipped twice and muddied her skirt and apron before righting herself and starting after him again.
They ran and ran. The poor little fur ball was exhausted and he finally gave, dropping onto the fallen leaves with an exaggerated sigh. Molly approached this time in a lowered stance, crawling the last few feet. She crouched and watched him for a long while. When his breathing finally slowed, she leaned forward to her knees and then her belly as she lay on the forest floor beside him and reached out tentatively to touch him.
He was so soft. She was amazed by the feel of him and took to petting the silky fluff, cringing at the few bald spots he’d created by tearing free. She cooed, and it only took a moment before he warmed to her, nuzzling his little black nose against her arm and inching closer.
They lay in the shadow of the trees for some time, until the pup became restless again and began to whine. Covered as he was in fluff, she could feel the bones of his ribs, the narrowness of his stomach. Slowly, she stood, taking him in her arms to carry him home, regardless of her father’s likely reaction.
It only took three steps to realize she didn’t know which way was home. She hadn’t noticed how far they’d come in the chase, so far that she’d lost the sound of the creek. She glanced around and, clutching the pup to her chest, headed toward what appeared to be an opening in the canopy of trees. If she could get out of the forest, she could find the creek and her path.
But when she reached the clearing, she was encircled by trees. She narrowed her eyes, a challenge to the dark forest, and headed back in, determined to find her way back.
Nearly an hour later, she realized someone was following her.
It had crept up on her, that feeling of being watched, that sensitivity to the softest noises at her every turn. She slowed, forcing herself to only glance back momentarily, not to run. There was nothing there but trees and shadows. She breathed deep as she turned back to continue, and then froze.
Standing casually in her path was the most terrifying, beautiful... creature in existence. He could not but be a creature, for he was no man.
Riven stood before the human girl, waiting for the instinct of flight to kick in. He looked her over as she stared blankly back at him. Her skirts were caked with mud, her hair a tangled mess. Filthy humans , he thought as he tried to estimate her age. No more than one and twenty, he was fairly certain, old enough for breeding stock at any rate. She was thin but her hips appeared adequate, sufficient bosom. Well enough , he decided. As his eyes returned to her face, he took in her expression, saw the coy smile, the flush of her skin. She was flirting with him.
She lowered the animal she held to present herself more fully. He closed the distance, grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him, her face contorted only a moment before smoothing as she pressed into him. He recoiled, moving her back by her upper arm.
She glared at him, understanding now that her advance was unwanted. “Well, you’re the one gaping at me,” she huffed, indicating her chest with a glance.
He stared at her, baffled, as she struggled to release his grip. He had never understood these creatures, but she was the oddest of the lot.
“Remove. Your. Hand,” she demanded firmly.
“Calm yourself,” he instructed in as even a tone as he could manage. She did just that, crossing her arms and slanting a hip. It seemed surprising she had accomplished the posture, given that one arm was solidly in
Similar Books
