His Darkest Craving

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His Darkest Craving Page 8

by Tiffany Roberts


  Her cheeks flushed, and she found herself suddenly battling away memories of her recent dreams. She turned away from Cruce and walked along the edge of the shade.

  Subject change. Going to pretend he didn’t say that…pretend it’s not true.

  “Where is the queen now?” she asked, almost managing a normal tone.

  “She relocated her court many years ago. It is my hope that she perished in the process.”

  Sophie stopped and faced him again. “Harsh, considering you were both trying to use each other, and it was you who stabbed her in the back.”

  “Harsh?” He rose into a vaguely humanoid form and leaned toward her; he nearly vanished in the sunlight. “Harsh is what you see now. What she did to me. It was within her rights, within her power, to destroy me and lay claim to my realm. To end it there. Instead, she cursed me to this for eternity. Cursed me to watch my forest dwindle around me, powerless to protect it as I once did, cursed me to an endless hunger for life that drives me to destroy that which I was meant to guard!”

  His voice had risen with every word, and his closeness was menacing despite his insubstantiality. To her shame, Sophie cringed back, ducking down and lifting her arms to protect herself from the barrage of fists that would undoubtedly follow. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath was suddenly strained, and her skin tingled with the threat of an impending panic attack.

  The fall breeze rustled the leaves overhead and scattered those already littering the ground. Seconds passed, and nothing happened. He didn’t strike her, didn’t leap upon her, didn’t suck the life out of her. Trembling, she lowered her arms to see him pressed against the wall of the house, his shadows squeezed into a narrow shape.

  “My anger is not your burden to bear,” he said, his voice as soft as the breeze. “I broke my oath to the fae queen long ago. I will not break my oath to you.”

  Sophie raised her head and straightened, folding her arms across her chest and tucking her hands beneath them to hide their trembling. She inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly, repeating the action several times as she willed herself to calm.

  “Is…there a way to break the curse?” she asked quietly.

  “You are cold,” he said, moving toward the far end of the porch. “You should return to your dwelling.”

  Sophie frowned. She hesitantly approached the porch steps and climbed them, stopping when she reached the top. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like your suffering doesn’t matter.”

  “You need not apologize to me, Sophie.” He rose from the floorboards and drifted toward her, a prowling beast one moment, an antlered humanoid the next. Extending an arm, he settled his palm on her cheek. It was cold, but it stirred a heat within her that she’d never felt before he’d come into her life.

  She craved more of his touch. Her eyelids fluttered as something flowed through her; something powerful, something soul-deep, something that pulled her closer to him.

  “Go warm yourself by your fire,” he said, his entire form shuddering. “I will not wander far.”

  Sophie was unable to form words, unable to move.

  He withdrew his hand and retreated. An instant later, he was gone, dissipating like smoke carried off by the wind. Only then was the spell broken.

  She shook off her daze and, after another glance at the woods, went back inside.

  It was a struggle to go about her usual routine for the remainder of the day; she couldn’t focus. She found herself erasing and rewriting sentences repeatedly, constantly dissatisfied with the results, and finally gave up and called Kate. There was no answer.

  Unwilling to return to writing — at the rate she’d been going, she’d only end up slamming her head into the keyboard in frustration — she resumed her research on fae and spirits. The search engine offered millions of results; information from folklore, pop culture, paranormal romance and urban fantasy books, and countless other sources. She was certain some of it was accurate, but how could she know which was right?

  All she had to go off was whatever Cruce decided to tell her, and he’d already admitted that he could lie.

  She paused her research when evening came. She hadn’t felt Cruce’s presence at all since he’d departed. Strangely…she missed it; the feeling of being watched had become familiar to her, a silent reminder that someone, something, was here for her. That seemed an unhealthy way to think of it, but she couldn’t deny that his presence made her feel less alone.

  He said he wouldn’t wander far. He’s out there. He’s just…giving me space.

  After eating dinner, she spent a few more hours surfing the net, looking up fairy myths and curses, discovering nothing but conflicting information. Discouraged, she took a quick shower and went to bed.

  She lay there for a long while, tossing and turning, until she finally ended up on her side, facing the window with its drawn curtains. She glared at it and clenched her jaw. The urge to go and open the curtains was a silly one. It wouldn’t help her sleep. She just needed to stop her mind from running at a thousand miles an hour and relax.

  After a few minutes, she sighed heavily, slipped out of bed, and threw the curtains open. Light from the moon and stars cast her room in a silver glow. She scanned the shadows outside, seeking Cruce. Though she saw no sign of him, she knew, somehow, he was out there.

  Climbing back into bed, she pulled the cover up to her chest and lay facing the window. It wasn’t until she was succumbing to sleep and her eyes were drifting shut that a dark shadow moved in front of the window, peering in with eyes like glittering stars.

  Chapter 7

  “Cruce?” Sophie called as she stepped onto the porch the next morning. Adjusting the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she turned and locked the door. When she was done, she scanned the tree line for movement. “You around, Cruce?”

  There was no response.

  Keys dangling in hand, she walked to her car. “Must be doing foresty things, like lording over the trees.” Sophie paused and snickered at the mental image her words produced. Shaking her head, she opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and tossed her purse down beside her.

  The drive into town was uneventful, allowing her a bit of leeway to enjoy the lovely scenery. She was going to be sad when the trees were bare, but she was sure the winter would bring its own unique beauty when it came; how would everything look with a layer of pristine white draped over it?

  She stopped at the post office to check her PO box. There was a bright yellow envelope inside with familiar handwriting on the front. Smiling, Sophie pulled it out, tore it open, and withdrew the card, which had a glittery sun on the front. She ran a fingertip over Kate’s looping script as she read the heartfelt message inside, and her day was instantly brightened.

  There was gift card included inside, and the sticky note stuck to its front said Spruce up the place! XOXO. Sophie tucked it all carefully into her purse and closed her box.

  After dropping Kate’s birthday card into the drop box, Sophie went outside and dug her phone out from the bottom of her bag. She opened Facetime and tapped Kate’s name. Her gaze wandered as it rang.

  There were a surprising number of people out and about; some were walking dogs, others were accompanying young children who were excitedly taking in the Halloween decorations. Sophie couldn’t help but smile. She hoped to reclaim some of that innocent excitement for herself. Cars rolled down the main street slowly, most of them seemingly respectful of the twenty-miles-per-hour speed limit within the town proper.

  Her smile slipped when Kate didn’t accept the call after far too many rings. She switched over to a regular call and waited. Kate’s voicemail answered after the sixth ring.

  “Hey Kate,” Sophie said after the beep, “it’s me! Just wanted to hear your voice and thank you for the card. Just picked it up from the post office. Call me, okay?”

  Unease filled her as she pressed end. What if Tyler had found out Kate was keeping watch on him? What if he found out Kate
knew where Sophie was staying?

  Would he hurt her? Had he already?

  No. No, we’re not going to play that game right now.

  Kate was just busy. She wasn’t sitting around all hours of the day, twiddling her thumbs and eagerly awaiting Sophie’s call. She had a busy, demanding job and was living a life of her own, a life that now included a new guy. Kate deserved happiness. She didn’t need to carry Sophie’s burdens.

  But no matter how many times Sophie tried to reassure herself, she still worried for her friend.

  She hopped back into the car and made a quick stop at the grocery store for a few necessities. She hadn’t planned on buying anything extra, but a piece of wall décor caught her eye — she knew she had to buy it the moment she saw it, and a smile played upon her lips when she thought about how Cruce would react to it.

  There was still no Cruce when she arrived home. She gathered her grocery bags and swept her gaze over the woods as she walked to the front door. Once she’d put everything away, she headed back outside, checked for him again, and went back to the car to lift the large, metal piece of décor out of the trunk.

  Back on the porch, she studied the exterior wall; there were several screws and nails protruding from it, some rusted with age. The pair of nails just over her eye level to the right of the front door seemed perfectly placed. She lifted the metal piece, settling the top of its outer circle on the nails, and stepped back to admire it. The black metal gleamed with reflected light. It depicted a tree enclosed in a circle, its roots and branches stretching wide in graceful, sweeping lines, and it looked perfect in its new spot.

  “What is this?” Cruce asked from beside her.

  Sophie jumped, a hand flying to her chest as she turned to him. He was a smoky column of shadow, resembling a tall man in a long, dark cloak. “You have to stop doing that!”

  “Perhaps you should be more aware of your surroundings,” he replied. She swore she heard a smirk in his voice.

  Shaking her head, she motioned toward the piece. “What do you think?”

  “What is it?” he asked again.

  Sophie stared at him blankly. “A tree.”

  Though his form didn’t seem to move, his eyes — barely visible in the daylight —turned to her. “Such symbols are often used as wards, but I sense no magic from this item. What is its purpose?”

  “To look nice. And…it reminded me of you,” she said, returning her attention to the art as her cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “You said you were the guardian spirit of this forest, so I figured this was perfect to hang here to, you know, show everyone else that this cabin is part of that.” She shrugged. “Even if I’m the only one who knows what it means, I like that its here.”

  Cruce leaned closer to the metal tree and released a low hum. “Now that I know its meaning, I find my appreciation of it has increased.”

  Sophie smiled at him. “Really? You like it, then?”

  “I do.”

  His touch settled on her calf, gentle and cold through her pants, and slowly trailed up.

  A thrill spiraled through her, and she gasped softly. “Cruce…”

  “Yes, Sophie?” He brushed the backside of her knee.

  She hadn’t realized just how sensitive that spot was until he stroked it. Her core pulsed, and liquid heat flooded her. How could so small, so light, so insignificant a touch have such a significant effect on her?

  Some rational part of her brain urged her to say something, to stop him, to remind him of the boundaries she’d set, but she couldn’t get the words past her lips. She’d said no groping; could it be argued that this didn’t fall under that stipulation? This was a caress, seductive and sensual, but was there anything overtly sexual about it?

  He shifted closer and raised a shadowy hand to run his fingers from her cheekbone to her jaw. “I have walked this forest for many thousands of years, and yet your beauty is unique to me. I have never seen its like. You surpass all I have ever known, Josephine Davis.”

  Her heartbeat quickened as she stared into his eyes. They beckoned her to give in, and for an instant they seemed the only light in a vast sea of darkness, her only hope for salvation. She tilted her face up toward him, eyelids growing heavy.

  Cruce dipped toward her only to abruptly turn away and withdraw his shadows.

  Sophie stumbled forward; she hadn’t realized that she’d been leaning into his touch. Regaining her balance, she stepped back, slightly dazed from the euphoria their brief contact had created.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Humans have entered my domain,” he replied. “I must ensure they mean my forest no harm.”

  His shadows collapsed upon themselves, turning into a pool of darkness that darted off the porch and out of her perception. She lifted her eyes, scanning the trees beyond her driveway. She thought she saw something moving between them…but it was too difficult to tell in the daylight.

  Sophie released a long, slow breath. Her body thrummed with arousal; it had built so swiftly, so easily, under his touch.

  Not even a day had passed since their agreement, and she’d already allowed him to affect her so thoroughly. Was she ever going to learn? His words didn’t have to be genuine, and the more she accepted them at face value, the more vulnerable she was to hurt. Sophie had vowed to herself that she’d never allow another man to have so much power over her, and yet here she was, falling under Cruce’s spell. She was undeniably, irresistibly drawn to him. Everything within her seemed to crave his nearness, his touch, his voice.

  That frightened her.

  Sophie scanned the trees once more before entering the cabin. She’d make herself some lunch and find something to occupy her time — and, hopefully, her thoughts.

  She called Kate on Facetime again, but there was still no answer. Her worry deepened. Kate should have received the voicemail, should’ve seen the missed calls.

  Carrying her laptop to the sofa, she sat down and opened the file for her work in progress. The words flowed easily this time. She lost herself in the story; part of her recognized that the turn it had taken was heavily influenced by Cruce — the mysterious hero watching over the heroine, safeguarding her — but she refused to acknowledge it outright.

  Whatever she hoped for with him, real life never worked out the way things did in books and movies.

  By the time she came up for air, it was well past five o’clock, and her stomach was growling; she’d forgotten about lunch. She devoured a bowl of soup and stepped outside after cleaning up. The sky was darkening; violet, magenta, and gold stained the western horizon. She inhaled the fresh air appreciatively.

  “Cruce?” she called, watching for movement.

  No answer.

  She decided to take a walk and stretch her legs — not because she was anxious to see Cruce — and made her way onto the forest path. She’d be sure to stay on the trail this time and turn back well before full dark. Despite her last woodland experience, she wasn’t afraid.

  Was that Cruce’s doing? Had his oath granted her courage?

  Was it foolish to take him at his word?

  As someone who’d earned a living by using words to create fantastical, imaginary characters, worlds, and stories, she should’ve known how empty they could be. By themselves, words were nothing; they were empty and hollow. How many times had Tyler professed his love and promised never to hurt her again? How many times had she made herself believe him?

  Words — promises — were only as good as the person, as the actions, behind them.

  And Cruce was not Tyler. As frightening as Cruce seemed, as monstrous as he appeared, the true monster was Sophie’s husband.

  She paused at one of the larger trees to touch the green, spongy moss on its trunk; it felt like brushing her fingertips over velvet.

  A rustling sound caught her attention. She stepped away from the tree and turned her head to listen. The sound came again, accompanied by movement in the fallen leaves to her right. She approached the source
slowly. A moment later, she noticed a rabbit, half-buried in the foliage, staring up at her. Its long ears were raised, and its wide, dark eyes gleamed with fear.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  The rabbit twitched as though it meant to jump but remained in place.

  “Shh. I won’t hurt you, little guy.”

  Crouching, she tentatively reached toward the animal. The shivering rabbit’s sides heaved with rapid breaths. It flinched when she settled her hand lightly on its back and ran her palm over its fur.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Despite its obvious terror, the creature didn’t flee. Sophie frowned and carefully slipped her hands around the rabbit, meaning to pick it up, but stilled when her fingers touched something wet. She lifted a hand to see a tiny smear of blood on her thumb.

  She brushed aside the surrounding leaves to reveal an old, rusted coil-spring trap. Her eyes widened. The trap was closed around one of the rabbit’s hind legs. The fur around it was matted with bright blood.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  She couldn’t guess how long the animal had been trapped, but its muted reactions suggested it had been here for hours, at least — long enough to exhaust itself.

  How many other traps were out here? Sophie had wandered blindly through the woods just the other day; what if she’d stepped on one? This could’ve been her foot.

  Kneeling, she cleared away the remaining leaves and examined the trap. She kept her movements slow to avoid frightening the rabbit any further. It jumped as though attempting to escape, tearing more of the flesh around its wound.

  “Shh. I’m going to get you out this, okay?”

  It took Sophie a few attempts to figure out how the trap’s mechanism worked, and her heart broke when the rabbit released a series of high, distressed sounds. She continued to speak to it calmly as she finally pried the jaws open.

  Once its leg was free, she gathered the rabbit in her arms and held it securely against her chest, ignoring the blood on her hands and shirt; another load of laundry didn’t matter compared to this animal’s needless suffering.

 

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