Lassie
1283 Words
Westley’s POV
Look, I get why she didn’t invite me into her tent. At least, I think I do. I’m not exactly used to women of superior morals and virtue, but I’ve gathered in my brief time among pack wolves that the flagrant f*****g and rough-housing I’m used to don’t exactly fly in these parts.
Not that I would consider making love to Corrin Oakshield flagrant f*****g. I might be an animal, but even I have enough sense to know that she isn’t. She’s…
Well, I don’t know what the Sun’s Hell she is. I’ve never met anyone like her. Sure, there were plenty of she-wolf Rogues I came across who could fight worth a damn, but not like her. She’s got a hawk’s eye, and she moves like a panther in the night, silent but deadly. She’s the greatest huntress I’ve ever seen.
And, Moon Goddess, she’s beautiful. I could stare into those wintery, gray eyes of hers every day of my life and never get bored.
Anyway, the point is, I get why she didn’t invite me into her tent, but she could have at least asked me to have dinner with her. Something. I know she feels the way I do. I felt it in that kiss.
That kiss…
Just thinking about the kiss makes me hard as a rock. I was able to think of little besides her smell after our first and second meetings—first in the grand hall at Castle Gibbous, and later in the dungeons when she and Red came to visit—that smell of whiskey and lemons, mixed together into an aroma that could kill—and then the faint, salty after-smell of the ocean air. I thought of that smell nonstop as I was tortured and imprisoned, and then who should come and save me but her—its very wielder?
Did I really have any choice but to kiss her?
That kiss, though—it destroyed me. That fragrance that I’d grown so desperate for seemed to slip its way from her sweet, little tongue to mine, and then deep, down inside me, awaking a beast I didn’t even know was sleeping down there.
I groan as I reach down to touch myself. I know, I know—I’m a filthy animal. Believe me, it’s not the first time I’ve been told it, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.
I don’t get very far before the knock sounds at my tent.
I jump, shoving my c**k back into my britches and sitting up straight. Who could possibly be knocking at my door besides her? “Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
It’s her; I’d know that sweet, yet alluringly tough voice anywhere. “One second!” I shout as I scramble to my feet, reaching to rinse my hands in the washbasin. I shift from foot to foot for a moment, silently willing my raging boner to die down. Yeah, right, I picture my inner wolf snorting at me, like we’re gonna do that with her standing right there.
Somehow, though, miraculously, it does die down, and I unzip the tent, offering her a nervous smile. “Hi.”
She scans me with narrowed eyebrows. “You okay? You’re… sweaty.”
Life is so unfair.
“I’m fine,” I say, glancing around. It’s been several hours since we reached the camp. The sun has set, and the bulk of the wolves seem to have tucked in for the night. There’s a nice, blazing campfire right behind her, though—lighting up the back of her long, soft, golden-brown hair like a halo—
“Do you want to sit?” she asks, interrupting my daze as she gestures behind her to the benches by the campfire.
She’s asking me to sit with her?
“Yes,” I say immediately, following her to the bench. She sort of pointedly takes a seat on the opposite side of the fire from where I’m standing, but I ignore the hint and come to sit next to her. Shameless, I know.
I scan her face thoughtfully. She looks strangely… nervous? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look nervous before. I’ve never seen her look anything but fearless. “Are you okay?”
She heaves a sigh, looking down at the fire, which lights those gray eyes of her up into a roaring silver. “I guess. I just found out I’m third in line to be queen, so there’s that.”
I inhale so sharply, bits of saliva seem to catch in my throat, and suddenly I’m coughing spastically. “You’re what?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t look so surprised. You knew I was the Beta’s daughter.”
Actually, I didn’t know that. I was able to deduce a decent amount about Corrin during our trek to Archon. I learned that she has an older brother, Rowan, who burns red-hot for our now-Queen Red. I learned that she was Red’s best friend, of course, and that she was her… I think the word was Sentinel? The jargon is a little unfamiliar to me.
And I learned that she’s utterly fearless, of course. And a kickass huntress.
That’s about it, though.
“So, that bloke—the one that told Red about her dead dad—that was your dad?”
She looks confused. “You didn’t know that?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Believe me, lassie, I’m trying to keep up here. But, no, I didn’t know that.”
It’s not the first time I’ve called her “lassie.” It’s something I picked up from Royce—may he rest in peace beneath the stars—who used it on every pretty much she-wolf in the realm. I didn’t, though. I guess I must have been saving it for the one who really meant something to me.
I think she likes it, though she’s not likely to admit it any time soon.
“I guess I’m used to everybody knowing everything around here,” she admits after a moment. “It’s sort of… refreshing, how little you know of our world.”
“Refreshing,” I repeat, nodding. “I’ll take it.”
She shoots me a look. “Westley, I think we need to talk.”
Moon God, I love how she says my name. She’s the only person I’ve ever heard pronounce the t besides myself. She must pay attention, I can’t help but muse, to catch onto the correct pronunciation just from listening to my often incoherent babbling.
“Right,” I say, smirking. “About the kiss.”
“No,” she says—too quickly. “Yes. Look… the kiss was a mistake. I have responsibilities now—more than I ever even realized before. I can’t…”
“Can’t what? Can’t fall in love?”
She looks up at me. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. Hope—that maybe an animal like me is even capable of love? Disappointment—that she can’t herself?
“Or,” I continue, “can’t fall in love with someone like me?”
“Both.” She frowns. “Neither. Sun’s Hell, Westley, we’ve got a war to win. Maybe two. A civil war that seems to be burgeoning into a world war. Now isn’t the time for romance.”
“I’d say now’s exactly the time for romance. Life’s short, little lassie. Best to grip it by the bollocks and watch it squirm.”
She laughs. If nothing else, at least I can make her laugh.
But it’s a short laugh, and when it passes, she stands up again. “I should go. We both need sleep.”
I glance up at her, basking in her warmth for the precious few seconds I have left. “Don’t think I’ll be getting much, either way. But you go ahead.”
She tilts her head to the side curiously, and it’s about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “Why?”
I hold her gaze. I feel my smirk turn into a smile that’s just a bit more soft. “Because you’ve finally talked to me.”
Rejection or not, she talked to me.
I’ll choose to consider it progress.
- Writer
