by Rene Folsom
Synopsis
Deep in the Shrouded Wood, on her way to her granny’s cottage, Rosetta is ambushed by an unseen force. Soon after, she finds herself plagued by strange dreams—visions of a large wolf and a seductive woman beckoning her.
Not knowing what to do with these dreams and the odd changes happening to her body in the waking world, Rosetta sets out to confront whatever lies in the Shrouded Wood, determined to discover the temptations within. But what she finds is beyond anything she ever could’ve imagined… or hoped for.
Get ready to dive into Rosetta’s world and enjoy a new twist on the classic tale of Little Red Riding Hood.
This Halloween, something sinfully wicked is coming your way. Give yourself a Red Hot Treat this fall with ten spine-tingling stories sure to warm up your night. Scary just got sexy with TEMPT, part of the Red Hot Treats multi-author series (stands alone for reading enjoyment).
Warning: This supernatural romance novella contains f/f adult situations and is meant for ages 18+.
Find out more on Rene’s website at
http://renefolsom.com/tempt
Copyright © 2014 Rene Folsom
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Editing Services Provided by:
Cynthia Shepp - www.CynthiaShepp.com
Cover Created by Phycel Designs
www.Phycel.com
For Michael Loring—
who inspired me to bring the wolves out to play.
Table of Contents
Synopsis
Tempt
The Mark
The Warning
The Hunt
The Dodge
The Calling
The Change
The Time
The Walk
The Visit
The Cry
The Protector
The Eyes
The Tears
The Mask
The Claim
The End
Red Hot Treats Collection
About Rene
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The Mark
This blows.
Puffing a lock of dark hair from my eyes, I made my way through the forest, bristling whenever my long, red cloak caught on a cluster of briars. I cursed under my breath as I used my empty wicker basket to swat them away. I worried that my favorite piece of clothing would get ripped during the trip. It being the only possession I had left of my father, I wore it obsessively when the weather began to cool, but I still managed to take great care of it. So, while picking my way along the overgrown path, I did my best to hug it close to my body as I walked.
My new, white Nike’s crunched the dead leaves under my feet as I picked up my pace, the sound echoing off the bark of the trees surrounding every side of me. Looking around, my eyes took in the splendor of a forest overtaken by autumn and it immediately reminded me of my dad, who often complemented me on how beautiful my ocean-blue eyes looked against the colors of fall—a stark contrast, yet complementary all the same.
The leaves were a beautiful shade of yellowish orange—what was left of them anyway. As winter drew near, the trees began to shed their superfluous accessories and were padding up for the cold. I couldn’t help but feel it a shame that they mostly littered the ground instead of living peacefully up on the branches above my head. Through the thicket of tree fingers, I could see the bright, blue sky overhead, a small whisper of a smile quirking my cheeks at the sight. Any other time of year, I’d be cast in complete darkness. So I couldn’t complain too much about the pretty leaves falling down.
The beautiful sky didn’t stop me from griping about having to be in the forest to begin with, though.
I loved my mother. I really did—honest. After my father passed when I was only eleven, my mother stepped up and took care of me all on her own. It was tough work, taking care of a young girl who had just lost her daddy, but my mother had done it fantastically. That being said, I couldn’t help but question from time to time whether or not the duties had caused my mother to go slightly mad.
“Why else would she make me walk the entire way to Granny’s house by myself?” I grumbled under my breath, talking aloud to help vent my frustration. “I could be with Cody right now…”
It sucked because I promised to spend the afternoon with my boyfriend, Cody. But, at the last possible second, my mother instructed me to make the ridiculously long trek to my grandmother’s house. The old woman’s cottage sat in the middle of the forest just on the outskirts of our humble little town. Village is more like it, I thought snidely.
I couldn’t even borrow my mom’s car to make the trip, which increased my annoyance even further. Even though I’d turned twenty-one this past June and had my license since I was seventeen, there was really no reason for me to have a car of my own while living in such a small town, especially when making a trip deep into the Shrouded Wood Forest where my grandmother lived. Being the old hermit that she was, she decided to live in the one house on earth that wasn’t car accessible. So, instead of sitting in the soft, comfy seat of my mother’s Honda, listening to instrumental rock music, I was waving around a silly wicker basket at all these damn briars that seemed to have it out for me. The basket was something my mom had made, a product of one of her most recent fly-by-night hobbies. So, I carried it around in support of her extracurricular endeavors. Thankfully, the wicker material was light as I stumbled through the nearly dead forest on a mission to collect my granny’s special baked goods for the upcoming Halloween festival.
Why my mother had chosen to accept the position of Festival Director from the town committee was beyond me. She always managed to bite off more than she could chew. The title meant that she pretty much had to take care of everything for the Halloween festival, which meant I became my mother’s delivery girl for two solid weeks prior to the event. Traveling from shop to shop, knocking on peoples’ doors to ask for donations and other specific items they may or may not be able to contribute—such as designed banners, carved pumpkins, and a butt-load of candy—and now walking through the confounded forest to my granny’s for her homemade truffles.
“This blows,” I grunted as my red cloak once again caught on one of the many briars jutting out from the edge of the path.
Before I could stifle my little hissy fit, I heard my groans echoing off the never-ending tree line of the forest. Was that really what I sounded like? I needed to take a mental note to stop being such a ninny. After all, the errands I was being forced to do were only so the town could have fun, getting in the spirit of celebrating All Hallows Eve like a bunch of goons. Plus, I did enjoy spending time with Granny, despite the near-death experiences I had to endure just to get there.
Keeping quiet, I picked up my feet and continued, the brush getting a bit thicker with each step I took. The sound of crunching leaves beneath my feet had quieted a bit as I made my way into the last clearing before reaching Granny’s front door. I still had a ways to go, but reaching the milestone gave me a bit of relief knowing I was making some sort of progress in this godforsaken forest.
Stopping abruptly, I listened. I knew I hadn’t been grumbling or groaning about anyth
ing, but I heard that distinct sound again. Of course, I was aware there were some creepy crawlies out in the Shrouded Wood, but for me to be spooked during one of my midday treks to Granny’s house was a bit foreign to me. I was usually pretty brave when it came to making my way through these woods, but whatever had made that noise sent chills down my spine.
While trying to keep as quiet as humanly possible, I took one step and then another, my heart thundering in my chest at the impression something, or someone, was watching me. I could feel the hairs stand up straight on the back of my neck—the kind of sensation you get when you knew someone was tracking your every move. I suddenly felt like a small rabbit being hunted by something much, much bigger than I was.
It had to have been my imagination. No one ever came this deep into the forest. No one, except for my grandmother’s delivery guy, Billy, but he would’ve made his trip out here just a few days ago. We usually used him whenever we needed to get a message to Granny and his trips didn’t often falter from their normal schedule.
Before my right foot found purchase against the ground dusted in the occasional leaf, I heard it. This time, it was a slight rustle of leaves, almost like footsteps, coming up behind me.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I willed myself to stay strong as I grabbed both sides of my hood and placed it calmly on my head, obscuring my face from the outside world. I contemplated whether to turn and see who was sneaking up on me. Did I want to face my attacker? No.
And god forbid any phones could possibly get signal out here. I knew it wasn’t possible, so I’d left mine at home. But, the part of me that desperately needed the security blanket absentmindedly reached into my pocket for the contraption, cursing beneath my breath when I found it vacant.
Deciding not to look back—never look back—I began to speed-walk across the clearing, contemplating the idea of sprinting the rest of the way.
Don’t be a coward, I repeated in my head while briskly walking toward the dense line of trees ahead. This time, I knew it wasn’t my imagination. I heard—no, felt—the pounding footfalls behind me, the pattern oddly matching the erratic beat of my heart.
Yeah, fuck that! I thought as I busted out in a full-on sprint, throwing caution to the wind, and dropping the wicker basket so I had both hands to carry the hem of my cloak.
The heavy hood slowly fell back to my shoulders as my foot caught on some old roots, my body slamming to the ground in a heap of red. A yelp escaped me, the hard floor ripping the breath from my chest and my head hitting something with a loud thud.
For a second, all I could see was white. The blow had knocked all sense from me—both my breath and sight being difficult to grasp, as if they were tangible items just out of my reach. Once I regained my vision and very little of my composure, I gripped my forehead, my fingers coming away in a shaky, bloody mess, and I groaned in pain.
Looking up at the blue sky, I wondered how foolish I looked to the forest critters around me.
Then, the bare tendrils of the tree line began to shudder.
They looked as if they were dark, trembling fingers coming to pick me up, take me away.
I felt faint.
The last thing I recall seeing before the beautiful, blue sky went black…
A pair of fierce, golden eyes.
The Warning
The smell of chocolate assaulted my senses, and the warmth of the sun beat against my eyelids. Coughing, I turned and cracked open one eye to assess my surroundings.
Plush, green grass with a sprinkle of autumn wildflowers filled my vision, the top layer of blades haphazardly peppered with dry leaves. The late-afternoon sun pelted the side of my face, but I knew that couldn’t be right. Or could it?
I was headed out to Granny’s shortly after lunch. There was no way I’d lost several hours wandering the woods. Or was there?
Then it dawned on me—I was no longer in the clearing. I was now in front of my granny’s house, the smell of her chocolate truffles wafting out through the windows and assaulting my overly delicate sense of smell.
With caution, I sat up, wincing at the pain radiating through my chest and up into my head. Reacting quickly, I touched my forehead with my fingers and felt the growing welt. It was no longer bleeding, but it would be one hell of a bump for a while. Cody will find that attractive, I thought absentmindedly. Looking around, I noticed my wicker basket sitting upright only a few feet away from my prone body—odd, considering I had dropped it back in the clearing.
“What the hell happened to me?” I said in a near whisper, looking down at my untattered, almost pristine clothing. If I had subconsciously dragged my injured ass to Granny’s house, surely I would’ve shredded my cloak in some way. The brush only increased in thickness the closer the path came to her yard. But, it was in perfect condition, almost as if I’d floated here or something.
“Rosetta, darling!” Granny yelled from her door only a few yards away from where I still sat in the grass, dumbfounded. “What are you doing out there on the ground? Come in.”
“Coming, Gran,” I shouted back. My voice lacked conviction as I contemplated what the hell had gone on in the woods.
A burning sensation had me gasping for air, bringing my attention to my chest as if something had gotten into my cloak. Pulling away the lapel, I took a sharp, deep breath as I noticed scratch marks covering my heart.
Three neat scratches.
As soon as my eyes landed on the injury, the pain began to wane and a new tingling sensation sent my heartbeat into overdrive. The sensation felt so good, and I couldn’t even explain why it was suddenly… attractive to me. I couldn’t get myself to stop staring. The idea of tearing my eyes away from the beautiful markings just seemed… wrong.
“Rosetta?” Granny questioned, poking her head out the window this time and getting my attention.
Embarrassed, I immediately covered up the scratches and hauled my butt up from the ground, scooping up the basket on my way to the door. “Coming!” I shouted, mentally preparing myself for the barrage of questions Gran would surely throw at me once she saw my head.
Once inside, I took a moment to breathe in the wonderful scents of baked goods coming from the kitchen to help ease my anxiety. I felt frazzled, foggy. After a few deep breaths laced with the delicious smell of sweet chocolate, I felt a bit better. Not to mention the strange tingling was still radiating throughout my chest, stirring warmth in my belly and calming me to a degree.
It felt… nice… pleasant.
“Granny?” I called out, stepping further into the cottage. My grandmother had never been a person to be enticed by material goods, and her home mirrored that sentiment. Modestly sized, the cottage was all living room and kitchen with a smallish bedroom pushed off to the back. She was by no means in any financial dilemmas, making a pretty enough penny by selling special herbs and plants that grew indigenously in the Shrouded Wood, but instead of buying a sixty-inch television and a massage chair, she mostly just bought ingredients for the many cooked delicacies she was famous for around town. The only thing she ever splurged on was a moderately sized TV that was more for me during my visits than for herself.
“In the kitchen, dear!” Granny called back.
Feeling a bit more like myself in this familiar place I liked to call my second home, I made my way into the kitchen, smiling faintly at the sight of my grandma in her natural element. She was hunched slightly over, balling up more cake batter as chocolate melted on the stove—all ingredients that would make another batch of her delicious truffles, soon to join the four dozen or so others that were cooling off on the table. I could smell she had more cake baking in the oven and smiled at the fact I would get to stay and help her for a while.
“Hey, Gran,” I greeted, placing my basket on the table next to the cooling truffles. “Hard at work, I see.”
She turned to me, smiling warmly for a second before she got a good look at me. Her face instantly became etched with worry.
“Rosetta!” She scurri
ed over, her tired body barely able to keep up with her young, vibrant spirit. She may not have the same energy she had twenty years ago, but she was still as spry as a woman half her age. “What happened to you?”
I knew the questions were going to come. The growing welt on my forehead was way too noticeable to hope no one would notice. Not to mention the damn thing throbbed, making it feel more like the size of a watermelon rather than a golf ball.
“I just fell, Granny,” I said, not sure what else to say and embarrassed of the fuss she’d surely make. I had fallen, hadn’t I? It was what happened afterwards that I was fuzzy on. “Hit my head on a rock.”
“Oh, poor darling,” she cooed. “Let me get something to help with that.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine… really—”
“Hush,” she said, waving her hand in my face as she scurried off to her room where she kept all of her special herbs and ointments. She was a firm believer in all that New Age stuff that I didn’t fully understand. She partook in a few of the practices from time to time—such as trying to read my palm, trying to find meaning in the constellations, and trying to use divination to ascertain the location of lost items. Keyword being trying in all instances.
“This,” she announced as she reentered the kitchen, brandishing a small bottle of greenish yellow gel, “is a salve taken from the Comfrey leaf. It’s perfect for taking care of bruises, cuts, and arthritis aches.” She lifted the bottle and gave me a toothy grin. “Trust me, it works.”
I raised a brow at her. “Is that why you keep throwing out your arthritis meds?”
She waved her hand in my face again. “As I was saying,” she said, completely ignoring my question while popping the lid off the bottle. “With this salve, your cut will be gone in no time at all.” She gestured for me to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. I had just sat down as she continued, “It will help you stay nice and pretty for your little boyfriend there back in town.”