Same As Me
1447 Words
Westley’s POV
It’s very, very difficult to think about anything but how insanely hot Corrin is when she's in fight mode.
But I really need to focus.
It’s not difficult to muster up the rage required to tear these scoundrels limb from limb after hearing what they said about both Sophie and Red. Granted, I don’t know Sophie Gibbous from the next pretty she-wolf, but I’ve gotten to feel nearly as protective of the Crescent Queen as Corrin herself, and the things that bastard said….
Well, let’s just say it comes very naturally, the act of sinking my teeth into the torso of the man closest to Corrin’s first victim.
Unfortunately, the other two are smart enough to shift at that point, and Corrin and I are both substantially smaller than either of them.
Not weaker, though. And not slower. Just smaller.
It’s clear which of us should take which wolf; one launches himself at her, and the other at me. But it’s hard for me to focus on the one coming at me when I hear the high-pitched, shrill cry of her wolf being overpowered by his, and before I know it, I’m spiraling around and biting that one’s head clean off before turning back to my own.
The fourth wolf puts up a bit more of a fight than the other three, but not much. He gets a substantial scratch in on my back, and manages to take a small chunk out of my belly with his teeth, but no more than that before I’ve torn his heart right out.
Once I’m finished, I glance over to see that she’s already shifted back. Hesitantly, I do the same.
Her chest is heaving, and the beads of sweat that have formed on her temple seem to sparkle in the firelight. The long, soft waves of her golden-brown hair glow as if they’re on fire, and her gray eyes burn with ferocity as she glares up at me. “I could have taken him.”
Moon God, this woman is perfect. Everything about her—her spirit; her beauty; her mind. Staring at her in front of that fire, spear in hand, I feel as if I’m in the presence of some ancient war goddess.
I know, I know. I’m a wolf; I’m not supposed to believe in any gods except the celestials.
I’m a Rogue, though. Everything’s a little different with us.
“I know,” I tell her. “But better I get banged up than you.”
Her perfect eyes trail down from my face to my injuries, none of which are particularly severe. She takes a careful step toward me, then another, until she’s close enough to reach out and touch my wounds with her fingers. I flinch, but not because of the pain. The feeling of her soft, sweet skin on mine is just so f*****g glorious that I can’t possibly stand still.
Her eyes slowly find mine again, fingers lingering against my chest.
I shouldn’t kiss her; I know that. I knew it when we were climbing up that ravine and she was so, temptingly close to me, and, somehow, I managed to hold myself back.
But it was too recent, and I don’t have that much willpower. I can’t do it again.
So I grab her by the cheeks, draw her in, and slam my lips against hers like it’s all I’ve ever wanted my entire life.
It’s not, of course, since I didn’t know she existed until earlier this year.
But it’s certainly all I’ve wanted since.
It’s somehow even better than the first time. The intensity and passion of the fight we’ve just been through seems to spark our lips and bodies with a whole new fire, and the way she presses herself against me, wrapping a leg around mine, pushing her pelvis against mine with a feverish heat, is more than she gave me the last time—likely due to the fact that, last time, her brother was standing there, watching us.
I’m so far gone from the effects of her kisses that I’m not sure I’ll ever find a return to normalcy again, and my inner wolf pants and gasps with desperation for us to go further with this perfect angel in our arms, but, before I can so much as try, a tiny, reluctant sound akin to a whimper escapes her sweet lips, and she pulls away from me.
I stare at her, chest heaving, attempting to catch my breath while knowing perfectly well that it won’t be righted anytime tonight. I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what she’s thinking. All I know is that, again, she kissed me back.
Big time.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she finally says when she’s caught her own breath. She’s not looking at me. Dare I flatter myself enough to say that she couldn’t reject me if she was looking at me?
“You kidding?” I ask her with my most devilish smile. “I should’ve done that a thousand times over since the day I met you.”
She finally turns those wintery eyes on me, and the desire and even tenderness in them is as impossible to miss now as it was when she kissed me. But there’s something else in them—something I don’t like. “I told you, Westley. We can’t be together.”
“Right, right.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Because you’re third in line and I’m a Rogue. I don’t buy it, lassie. You don’t care what people think. You don’t care to be queen, either. You’re a huntress. A fighter. Same as me.”
Her jaw tightens. “You’re right—I am those things. But I’m also a daughter, a sister, and a loyal subject to a queen I love with all my heart and soul. And I owe it to all of them to do the right thing.”
I curse, not only because of my own frustration but also because I know she’s right. It’s not just the huntress in her that I’ve grown to care so deeply for; it’s the loyalty and dedication I’ve seen in how she defends her family and her queen. I’ve never met someone so honorable and true in all my life, and I wouldn’t want to change it.
I wouldn’t change a single hair on her head.
“We could talk to Red.” I reach out to touch her hand, and for an instant, she lets me, but then she pulls away. “We could ask her to induct me into the pack—to make me a Crescent. Would that help?”
A glimmer of hope flashes in her eyes. “You’d do that?”
“To be with you?” I close the recently opened distance between us. “I’d do anything.”
She holds my gaze, and for an instant, I think she might kiss me this time. But then she looks away, shaking her head. “I don’t think it would make a difference to them—to my family, or to the pack. Not enough of one, anyway.”
I want to push it. I want to tell her that we have to at least try, or beg her to come up with another solution. I want to find a way to make this work—to make the aching, longing pain go away—to be with her.
But I can sense that she’s made up her mind—for now, at least.
And I can also sense that she’s not going to be forgetting this kiss any time soon.
So, deciding to consider it a victory, I nod my head. “We’d better head back, then, lassie. Before their friends show up.”
- Writer
