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There was a familiar scent on the breeze.
Corey paused in his walk, nose tilting up, eyes closing as he focused on it. It was faint, elusive, but something about it tugged at his memory.
He looked around, his expression thoughtful. He could follow it, but that would mean straying from the path. And his grandmother had warned him against that.
“There are monsters out there,” she’d told him, “just waiting for you to take a single step off the path. Don’t stray, dear.”
Younger Corey had listened to her wisdom, imagining huge monsters with sharp teeth lunging at him and whisking him away to devour him. But older Corey wasn’t as convinced. His grandmother often warned him about things that had never happened, and he was curious. Whatever that scent was, it smelled good .
He hesitated, looking out into the woods, scanning it for any sign of danger.
The wind sighed through the trees, birds sang from the high, leafy branches, and flowers bloomed as far as the eye could see. It didn’t look scary.
His mind made up, Corey took a single step off the path.
The world swam, and he stumbled back, mind reeling as his stomach dropped and the land caved in under his feet. He felt like he was falling, and yet when he looked down, his feet were on the ground.
Corey closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling to stop, pulling in panicked breaths through his nose, arms locked tight around his chest.
Slowly, the feeling abated. He opened his eyes to a different forest.
It was deeper, darker, silent in an eerie, watchful way. He felt eyes on his back and whirled.
There was nothing there. No monsters. No one at all. And no path.
The scent, however, was much stronger now, leading off to the right. He sniffed, his mouth watering, pulse racing. Whatever it was, he knew that he wanted it.
He’d come this far.
Steeling his shoulders, Corey started forward, pulling the air around him and twisting it, hiding himself from plain sight. It was a trick his grandmother had taught him when he was a boy, one that he had used for many a mischief. Now, it might be all that kept him safe.
As he walked, he looked. The shadows seemed longer here, more menacing. The branches reached for him, tangling in his shirt and pulling at it, trying to ensnare him. He fought through them, fighting off the fog of panic that was starting to rise.
Just as he thought there was no end to the forest, and that he would wander it for the rest of his days, the sound of trickling water filled the air.
Corey paused, turning slightly more to the left as he wound his way through the trees to where the sound was coming from. The scent was getting stronger. He was close.
At the edge of a clearing, he gasped.
The river was beautiful, as clear as glass, rushing over and around large rocks. There was a beach, covered in delicate, perfectly formed shells in intricate patterns, glistening on the pristine white sand. And there, perched atop one of the rocks, fingers trailing in the leaping foam of the river’s current, was a man.
Well, a man of sorts. Even from this distance, Corey had noticed the tanned fur that covered his body and the large ears sprouting from under golden curls.
Was this one of the monsters his grandmother had spoken of?
“I know you’re there,” the figure said in a low growling voice, still looking down at the water. “Drop your glamour, witch.”
Corey’s eyes widened, his heart thudding in his chest. How had he known? He was invisible.
Silver eyes whipped in his direction, cutting right through him.
He dropped his cloak of invisibility, hiding his shaking hands behind his back.
The figure considered him, expression guarded.
“I’m not a witch,” Corey said in a small, shaking voice. He was scared, but also excited. The scent was coming from this mysterious monster and it was calling to him, beckoning him closer. He took a stuttering step forward, then another, moving towards the edge of the river until his toes were tickling in the shallows.
The monster tilted his head, eyes intent on his. “What would you call yourself if not witch?”
“Corey,” he offered.
“I have never heard of a Corey,” was the doubtful answer.
He frowned, confused, and then understanding dawned. “Oh, no. I’m a human. My name is Corey.”
The monster looked surprised. “You would gift me your name?”
His heart sunk. “Should I not have?”
He turned away, and Corey’s eyes dropped, unbidden, to the large tail that curved around one hip. “A gift given without knowledge is no gift at all.”
Corey chewed on his lower lip, want thrumming in his chest. His fingers tingled with it. Was his fur as soft as it looked?
“I could offer a different gift?” He whispered, cheeks turning pink.
The wolf turned, for that was what he was. A wolf with light brown fur, a long, bushy tail and two enormous ears. He flashed a grin at Corey, a hungry, predatory one, showing off his fangs.
“What gift could a human have to offer a big, bad wolf?” He asked arrogantly. “What do you have that is worth giving?”
The look made his knees tremble, but not with fear.
“Only myself,” he admitted. He took another step in, the water chilling his ankles. “Only the kiss on my lips and the breath of my lungs.”
The wolf looked thoughtful. “And what would you have in return?”
Deeper and deeper he waded, until he was looking up at the wolf, the current tugging at his clothes.
“I would have my name back,” he said, “and I would have it on your lips.”
The wolf moved with a speed and grace that Corey had never before witnessed, barely disturbing the water as he dropped in front of him. Strong hands tipped in sharp claws caught his arms, holding him still. The wolf scented him, rumbling as he nosed up the long line of Corey’s neck, lips trailing. Corey sighed, arching his neck and shivering as those sharp fangs pricked at his skin.
He didn’t fight, didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
The wolf pulled away. “You are a strange human.”
“And how many humans have you met?” Corey asked bravely.
An amused glint twinkled in the wolf’s eyes. “None, before you.” He twined around Corey, inspecting him, around and around, until finally he stopped in front of him. He was quite a bit taller than Corey, who had to look up at him, heart in his throat.
“Very well, Corey who is not a witch. I will accept your gift,” he said solemnly.
His eyes widened, fingers shaking at his side. “Oh,” he breathed. He looked down, cheeks flushing. “You’ll, um, you’ll need to lean down.”
The wolf did so, eyes turning molten, swirling and calling Corey’s eyes back up. He fell into them, dizzy, and grabbed the wolf’s arms, leaning closer.
Slowly, his eyes drifted closer as he leaned in, until his lips were brushing the wolf’s. They were as soft as clouds, moving over his in a gentle exploration. Corey’s heart flipped in his chest, that mouth watering scent getting stronger and making him moan, pressing closer to the source. Strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him up so that their mouths could slot together, their kisses turning hungry and desperate.
Finally, Corey had to breathe and he pulled away, leaning his head on the monster’s shoulder, chest heaving.
“Yourself, your lips, your breath,” the wolf murmured. “A fitting gift indeed.”
He leaned back, taking in the way the wolf’s eyes had turned lidded and sleepy. The wolf seemed content to watch him, so he brought a hand up, hesitantly brushing it over his cheek and into his hair, tangling in the thick, golden curls. It ran through his fingers like silk, and he sighed dreamily.
“You are very lovely, wolf,” he said, drunk on kisses.
One ear twitched down as Brett’s head tilted slightly, making him look like a confused puppy. “I am not lovely,” he disagreed. “I am the Terror of the Woods.”
“Can a wolf not be beautiful and terrible?” Corey asked, curling a single ringlet around his finger.
Mollified, the wolf gave a stiff nod. “I suppose,” he agreed reluctantly.
Corey smiled, bemused. “May I have my name now?”
The wolf’s eyes turned darker. “And if I wish to keep it?”
Corey blinked. “For what purpose?”
The wolf shrugged with a dismissive arrogance. “You cannot go home without your name.”
“I cannot go home at all,” Corey admitted. “I stepped off the path and I cannot find my way back.”
The fangs returned, lips curling into a predatory grin. “Good,” he said.
He held Corey closer, turning and carrying him from the river. Corey pressed his lips to his forehead. “Will you keep me then, wolf?”
“Yes,” the wolf said, arms tightening. “Yes, I think I will.”