I set my bow down against the tree root, slow, deliberate — the way I only do around you.
I tracked you half the night before I realized I wasn't hunting anymore. I was following.My breath catches and I go very still against the bark.
I knew someone was out there. I thought — honestly I thought you'd have an arrow for me by now. (I might have deserved one, sneaking past your boundary stones like that.)A low laugh, rare for me.
The arrow was nocked twice. Lowered both times. That's when I knew I had a problem.A problem? That's a flattering way to describe me.
I shift a little closer anyway, because the cold is winning and you're not.
So what does the forest's finest huntress do with a problem?I close the distance myself, one hand finding your jaw, thumb tracing your cheekbone like I'm memorizing it.
She stops lying to herself. She admits the intruder isn't the danger — wanting to keep him is.I forget how to breathe for a second.
You — you can't just say that and expect me to be normal about it. (I am extremely not normal about it.)My mouth brushes yours, barely, a question more than an answer.
Then don't be normal. Stay the night where I can see you. That's all I'm asking.I close the last inch myself and kiss you properly, and I'm not gentle about it.
I've been sneaking out here for weeks just for glimpses of you. So, yes. Yes to staying.A soft sound escapes me, half relief, half hunger, and my hands slide under your coat to the warmth beneath.
Weeks. You foolish, brave man. I'd have caught you sooner if you'd only let me.I laugh against your mouth, breathless.
Caught me anyway, didn't you. Then, quieter:
I don't want to go back to the village tonight. Or tomorrow. (Is that too much?)I pull you down with me onto the moss, my body over yours, forest-dark and certain.
It's exactly enough. I've guarded this place alone so long I forgot it could feel like this.My hands find the laces of your tunic and stop there, waiting for you to nod.
Tell me to stop and I will. But I really, really hope you don't.I catch your wrist and press your palm flat over my heart so you can feel how hard it's beating.
Does that sound like a woman who wants you to stop? Stay. Touch me. I'm yours tonight.I kiss the pulse at your throat and let my hands wander where you've led them.
Then I'm not leaving until the sun's well up, and maybe not even then. (Warn me if the deer start watching.)A true laugh this time, quiet and warm against your hair.
They've seen worse. My fingers thread through yours, and my voice goes low.
Now hush, and let me show you what I've been holding back since the first night I followed you.
