His Darkest Craving

by Tiffany Roberts

  “You are a denizen of my woods,” the spirit replied. “You are mine.”

  “What do you mean?” She skimmed the trees, but it was impossible to pinpoint the source of the voice; it came from all around her.

  “I protect what is mine, mortal. You have naught to fear from me.”

  She caught a fleeting glimpse of shadowy antlers between two trees. She tensed, waiting for the inevitable attack. When it didn’t come, she found herself only more anxious.

  “You…won’t hurt me?” How many times, how many ways, had she asked that of Tyler? How many times had he sworn he’d never hit her again?

  How many times had he broken those promises?

  The darkness seemed to solidify before her, so complete and thick that it almost hurt her eyes to stare at it. A figure emerged from the ground, and for a moment it towered over her, its massive antlers stretching to either side. Then it sank lower, and a pair of faintly glowing, silver eyes met her gaze.

  “So long as you are upon my lands, you have my protection, mortal,” the spirit said. “I offer it to you as my oath…but I require something of you first.”

  Though the spirit’s stare was unsettling, it was also strangely familiar. She swallowed thickly. “What…what do you require?”

  “Sophie,” it purred. “The name of your heart, but not of your birth. Give me your true name, mortal.”

  “How do you know my name?” she asked, taking a step back. “And why should I trust you? You could be lying about all this.”

  “I have watched since your arrival. Watched and listened.” Something moved past her; she felt it, even though she couldn’t see it. “And is not the fact that you are still breathing grounds enough for trust, mortal? I destroyed one of the forest’s creatures to safeguard you.”

  Sophie inhaled sharply. She wasn’t going crazy — there had been something watching her, following her, touching her. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to…didn’t want for it to…”

  “Your name,” the spirit insisted, “and all is forgiven.”

  “Josephine. Josephine Davis.”

  “Josephine Davis.” Her name echoed between the trees, but the echo was the rasp of dead leaves, the creaking of ancient boughs. “You have my oath, Josephine Davis. So long as you are within my forest, I will allow no harm to befall you.”

  Sophie staggered backward as her chest suddenly constricted. Heat flared within her, coalescing around her heart, where it seemed to harden like a shield. She flattened her palm against her chest and stared up at the dark entity. “What was that? What did you just do to me?”

  “I have given you my oath, Josephine Davis. It is now yours to carry.” A cold hand settled on her shoulder, raising goosebumps beneath her clothing; the sensation wasn’t unpleasant.

  The memory of shadows writhing over her naked body flickered through Sophie’s mind. Her cheeks warmed as she shoved the fragmented dream aside.

  She looked up into the spirit’s eyes, which were like two dying stars lost in the void of space. “What do I call you?”

  The spirit was silent for a time, leaving only the forest’s night sounds. The air was thick and charged with a strange, thrilling energy.

  “Cruce,” it finally replied. She felt the word — the name — wash over her, felt the inexplicable, undeniable power tied to it, and shuddered again. Somehow, she knew that he hadn’t deceived her. Cruce was his true name.

  She harbored no doubt that this spirit was male.

  “So, you’ve been the one…watching me?”

  “Yes.”

  Stated without apology. Heat spread through Sophie as she recalled all the times she’d felt a presence over the last few days, all the times she’d felt as though she were being watched. It had been Cruce all along. She’d hoped it was a guardian angel looking out for her.

  This was beyond anything she might’ve imagined.

  Why am I not more freaked out by this? This is crazy.

  Shock. I’m definitely in shock.

  Sophie tore her gaze away, looking over the dark tree trunks all around her before returning her attention to the shadow. “I’m lost. Can you show me the way back to my house?”

  Cruce’s form shifted, becoming bestial; Sophie panicked, seeing the black bear in his shape, but his body lengthened into something vaguely lupine an instant later.

  “Come, mortal,” he said. When he moved forward, her mind recoiled. Though his shadowy limbs move the way a wolf’s would, he flowed over the ground like smoke on the wind.

  Everything seemed surreal and dreamlike as she followed the spirit through the woods. Cruce was often distinguished from the surrounding shadows only because he was darker. The trees around her felt impossibly tall, and the violet sky overhead cast a faint glow on the trunks that made them seem more phantomlike.

  “Are there others like you?” Sophie asked, turning her attention back to the moving shadow. To Cruce.

  “In other forests, perhaps. I am the sole guardian here.”

  “Have you ever…left the forest?”

  “I am bound to it. I cannot leave its borders.”

  That explained why she hadn’t experienced that being-watched sensation in town. “How long have you been here?”

  “As long as this forest has been here.” His shape had changed again — now he seemed more like a stag, tall and majestic but no less a thing of shadows. “Tens of thousands of autumns, perhaps longer.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her hands beneath them. She shivered, but it was due to cold now rather than fear. Her rapidly growing ease with Cruce was beyond her understanding; he was a creature of darkness, an entity that wasn’t supposed to be real. She’d seen him kill a bear simply by draping over it, he could make himself invisible, and his shape was constantly changing. Each of those things served as a solid foundation for terror. And yet…she found an inexplicable comfort in his presence. Like a black hole, he drew her in, threating to swallow her whole, and his deep, guttural voice seemed only to beckon her closer.

  “Do you protect everyone living here?” she asked as she climbed over a fallen log.

  “I have given my oath only to you, Josephine Davis.”

  The sensual way his voice caressed her name sent a rush of heat through her. Her breath quickened. “Why only me?”

  He reared back, taking on that humanoid shape again, and swept closer to her. His shadows spread wide, like he’d thrown open a cloak or stretched inky wings, before closing around her. Sophie’s breath caught in her throat; she would learn firsthand the agony the bear had endured in its final moments.

  “Because you are mine,” Cruce said, his voice merging with the darkness surrounding her.

  Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, her body paralyzed by fear and thrumming with anticipation. He was cold, so cold, but his touch was light and gentle, and his voice rumbled straight to her center…

  How could she be so deeply frightened and aroused at the same time?

  A cool tendril caressed her cheek. “We are here, Sophie.”

  She opened her eyes to find herself released from his shadowy embrace. Her cabin was just ahead, the light from the front windows illuminating two long strips of the dirt driveway.

  Had they really traveled so far, or had she not been as deep in the woods as she’d thought?

  “Thank you,” she said, but he was gone when she turned to face him. Sophie shifted her gaze to the tree line, searching for a patch of shadows with two silver, orb-like eyes, but the light from the window disrupted her night vision just enough to make it impossible to distinguish any subtle differences in the blackness.

  Rubbing her arms, she walked across the driveway and up the steps onto the porch. Once inside the cabin, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it. The sensation of his touch hadn’t faded. It was imprinted upon her body, just as his name was emblazoned upon her soul.

  His words played over and o
ver in her mind.

  Because you are mine.

  Sophie tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

  No. No, I can’t. I can’t let anyone control me again.

  She’d barely made it out alive last time. This time, she feared the damage could end up being far greater.

  Cruce lingered at the edge of the woods and watched as Sophie moved about inside the cabin. Her actions made little difference to him; he was transfixed by her and simultaneously stupefied by his own decisions.

  Why had he so easily given over his true name? In his world, the world of spirts, fae, and magic, names were things of great power. That power carried into the mortal realm, though its potency was diminished there. He’d handed her the potential to control and manipulate him, to bend him to her will. Her true name enabled Cruce to influence her slightly more, had allowed him to give her a real, binding oath, but mortals were not bound by the same rules as beings such as himself. In his curse-stricken form, he lacked the magic to do her any real harm through use of her name.

  Sophie walked across the main room of the cabin as though in a daze. Cruce watched as she filled a kettle with water and placed it atop the stove. She leaned forward with her hands on the counter and eyes unfocused for many moments before finally shaking herself and igniting the burner.

  Cruce told himself it had been a calculated move on his part; he’d offered his name to put her at ease and gain some of her trust. Sophie was a modern mortal; her kind no longer held to the old ways. She was ignorant of the laws that bound him and didn’t know how to weaponize his true name.

  Humanity had forgotten the ancient rituals and traditions, and that was to the benefit of beings like Cruce.

  She returned to the sink and filled a glass with water, sipping it as she stared out the window.

  Those justifications didn’t hold true when he reflected upon them further. Somehow, what Cruce had done, the immense risk he’d taken, felt right. His true name had been a precious, closely guarded thing, a secret for eons. He’d revealed it only to the fae queen, who’d later used it to curse him. He did not fear the same from Josephine Davis. Though he knew little about her, and she knew nothing about him, she was the best person to hold his true name.

  Small animals skittered through the surrounding forest, each of them familiar to their fallen lord. He also knew every plant and tree; the sounds of their leaves and branches made music wholly unique to his forest and this season. Normally, he’d give himself over to the woods, lose himself within them, and attempt to forget his curse for a little while.

  But tonight, thoughts of Sophie consumed Cruce. The warmth he’d felt through her clothes lingered within him, defiant of the cold, and her delicious scent remained on the crisp night air. He longed to learn the feel of her entire body one tiny piece at a time. Despite his lack of a physical form, she made him feel as though his blood were heated, and his desire for her only increased each time he drew near to her.

  He moved silently through the undergrowth to position himself near the side window as she walked out of the kitchen and sat on the sofa, a steaming mug in her hands. He wouldn’t go to her yet, not while the lights were on, but once she retired to her chamber to sleep…

  All Hallows Eve would come in seven days. Cruce didn’t plan to waste any of the time between now and then.

  Chapter 4

  Shadowy hands and tendrils smoothed over Sophie’s body. She was awash with pleasure, reduced to a writhing creature incapable of thought as a tidal wave of sensation carried her away. She moaned, sighed, and begged, craving more, needing more.

  The shadows brushed over her breasts, stroking and sucking her nipples. Jolts of pleasure flashed through her, heat coalesced in her core, and her sex pulsed. She teetered on the brink of oblivion with no release in sight.

  Twin wisps of shadow grasped her knees and parted them. Another tendril trailed down her stomach and over her pelvis to delve into the folds of her sex and tease her clit. Sophie gasped, eyes flying open, and he was there, standing before her.

  Cruce.

  Huge, black antlers grew from his head as he shifted closer to her, wedging his hips between her legs to force them wide. His shadowy hands, tipped with pointed claws, settled on her thighs and slowly ran upwards. He brushed his thumbs over the sensitive flesh of her sex before capturing her wrists and holding them captive to either side of her head.

  He leaned over Sophie; he was a mass of restless, hungry shadows, consuming everything in his path — the light, the air, Sophie herself. Cruce became her entire world. Something pressed against the entrance of her sex, something thick and hard.

  “You are mine, Josephine.” His deep voice resonated through Sophie before he thrust his hips forward and slammed his cock into her.

  Sophie woke with gasp, her body tense and shuddering in the throes of an orgasm. Waves of pleasure swept through her. She filled the room with her cries, which escalated in volume until she finally tumbled off her peak and was reduced to desperate, panting breaths.

  She lay there, stunned, feeling the wetness on her thighs. She’d never come so hard in her life. How had a dream brought her to that point?

  That’s all it was, right? A dream? That’s all everything was…

  The walk in the woods, the bear attack, meeting Cruce, and…the sex, it had all been a dream. Even though she recalled it in vivid detail, even though she could still feel the caress of shadows on her flesh, even though she could still feel him inside her, it couldn’t have been anything but a wild dream.

  Her sex throbbed, aching with unfulfilled need despite her toe-curling climax. She slid a hand down her stomach. She paused as her fingers dipped under the waistband of her underwear.

  The temptation was there, the desire, but she knew that an orgasm at her own fingers wouldn’t give her the satisfaction for which she yearned.

  It’d feel hollow.

  Removing her hand, Sophie sat up and slipped off the bed. Once again, she’d soaked her sheets. With a groan, she removed the bedding, dumped it — along with her bottoms — into the washer, and got it started.

  “Two nights in a row,” she muttered, shaking her head. “This better not become a habit.”

  Despite her lingering need for true satisfaction, she felt surprisingly refreshed. Having to run a load of laundry every day was a major downside, but there seemed to be some perks to waking up like this.

  After cleaning up and dressing, Sophie entered the kitchen. She opened the cabinet to grab her favorite mug only to find its spot empty. Frowning, she glanced at the sink. The mug was sitting within, and the kettle was still atop the stove with a box of teabags on the counter nearby.

  “Just a dream,” she said softly as she put the tea away and emptied the kettle.

  Maybe I was sleepwalking?

  She hadn’t sleepwalked in ages, not since she was a kid. When her somnambulance had been at its worst, her parents had installed a lock high up on the front and back doors to keep her from slipping outside in the middle of the night. She’d grown out of the habit years ago, but maybe it was coming back? It wouldn’t surprise her considering the amount of stress and trauma she’d experienced over the last few years.

  Sighing, she turned to look over the living room. Her gaze paused when it fell on the scarf and knitted sweater she’d worn the night before. They were draped over the back of the sofa with broken bits of brown leaves clinging to them. Her sneakers were on the floor just below; she normally kept them near the front door.

  Sophie slowly turned back to the counter and went through her morning ritual of making coffee and breakfast like an automaton. Either parts of last night hadn’t been a dream and she’d just been too tired to keep it all straight, or she’d been sleepwalking. She hoped it was the former; the latter was too frightening. Who knew what dangers lurked outside in the…shadows…

  The aroma of brewing coffee helped her shake off those thoughts. She inhaled deeply, letting the smell ease her nerves. Taking a new mug d
own from the cupboard, she poured her coffee and mixed in some of her favorite creamer.

  She stepped into her slippers, tossed the throw blanket over her shoulders, and took the mug outside. Walking off the porch, she basked in the morning sunlight with the mug nestled between her hands to ward off the chill. She scanned the surrounding trees. Nothing moved but the occasional falling leaf. None of the shadows were as dark or as consuming as they’d been in her dreams.

  “Hello?” she called. Just hearing her voice echo through the crisp air made her feel silly. “I was dreaming. There’s no such thing as forest spirits.”

  Her mind had been playing tricks on her; the years of abuse, the horrific night during which she’d almost died, and the uncertainty of trying to get away before Tyler was out of jail were finally crashing down upon her now that she had time to stop and think. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was part of the healing process.

  Besides, everything was so pretty and luminous in the daylight. She’d just let the nighttime gloom pair with her paranoia to get out of hand.

  “It was just a dream.”

  “So, how are you feeling today?” Kate asked. She was looking down at her hand as she painted her nails, attempting to seem nonchalant, but Sophie didn’t miss the hint of worry in her voice.

  “Great! I got a ton of words in today, and I think might even finish the first draft by the end of next week. It feels so good to be writing again.” Sophie stood up from the sofa and carried the laptop into the kitchen. She set it on the counter and adjusted the screen. “Why do you ask?”

  Kate glanced at her. “Well, I got a call last night from a woman scared out of her wits.”

  Sophie blushed. “I know. I was hoping that was part of the dream, too.”

  “Hey. You know I’m here for you no matter what. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, even if you think it’s nothing.” Kate closed the nail polish and leaned closer to the camera. “Soph, have you considered talking to someone?”