I tilt my head and arch one eyebrow. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Well, I can’t climb this tree alone.” Her gaze goes from commanding to helpless and innocent in under three seconds. “You’re strong, and you’re tall. I need your help. Please, Jack.”
I don’t know how she does it, but next thing I know, I toss the cloak aside, lace my fingers and, lips compressed, slightly bend my knees so she can place her little, warm foot into my hands. Holding on to my shoulders, she nods, and I ease her up.
“Higher, Jack,” she demands. There’s only so much I can do for her, but she finds her way. Getting a hold of my hair, she places one knee on my shoulder, the second one following on the other side as her skirt swallows me up.
“Riley,” a deep, raspy groan escapes me when my head ends up between her thighs all of a sudden, my nose just an inch away from the red scrap of satin that is her panties. Screwed treasure of a leprechaun, does she even know what she’s doing to me?
I imagine not when her command, “Hold still, I’m almost there,” comes from outside the red-tinted spell she’s put me under. Behind closed lids, I roll my eyes, praying for enough self-control to get through this without doing something stupid.
As she works her way up to stand on my shoulders, I keep a hold of her ankles so she won’t fall off. Her skin is warm and smooth under my fingers. Tempting. Slowly, I push my hands up higher, sliding them over her shins and calves. Damn, Riley feels like forbidden silk. Stuck between her legs, my gaze moves up completely of its own accord. The reward is a glimpse into Eden. Above my face, there’s the enticing red apple waiting to be plucked.
“Jack! Are you feeling me up?” a girlish huff sounds from above.
My hands stop where they are. “No.”
One palm braced on the tree for support, she bends down, gathering and tucking the dress between her thighs, and scowls into my still tilted-up face. “Don’t gawk under my skirt, Wolf!”
I crack a lecherous grin. “Then stop fooling around in the tree and come down!”
“In a moment. When I have—” Because she obviously doesn’t want to let go of her dress and needs the other hand to grab whatever she has her eyes on up there, she starts to wobble on my shoulders. Even with the tight grip I have on her thighs now, I can’t balance her for long.
“Riley, come down!” I growl.
A squeak, her dress fanning out again, wood breaking, and the next second, she drops into my arms. She’s light as a feather, cushy to hold. Her face, a little flushed from fright, is now covered by a couple of stray locks. I blow them away for her and glare darkly into her eyes.
“Oops.” She eyes me sheepishly. Then her rosy lips stretch into a proud smile as she holds out one stick in either hand.
I put her back on her feet, quickly glancing around and hoping that nobody saw what we just did while she slips back into her shoes. We’re still alone, thank Grimm. “Now what?” I demand, my scolding gaze back on her. “You want to smack someone over the head with them?”
Returning my glare with determination, Riley sinks onto a rock in the longish grass close to the tree and surprises me when she pulls out a pocketknife from her right boot. “Now, I make an arrow.” She unfolds the blade and starts sharpening one end of the straight stick. “And instead of throwing your useless jokes around, you can help me with this.” Obviously impatient with my lack of enthusiasm for her mission, she gets to her feet again, stalks over, and pushes the second love branch forcefully against my chest. “I’m assuming you have a knife. Or aren’t puppy dogs allowed to play with sharp things?”
Ugh. How does she always know which buttons to push to get what she wants? I grasp the stick and get out my own knife which, unlike her, I keep in my pocket. We settle down on the rock that is big enough for both of us and silently go to work.
Every now and then, I peek over at her to follow up on how incredibly good she is at handcrafting the weapon. “So, what are you going to do with them once they’re finished?” I murmur after a while.
“Shoot me a prince, of course.”
I lift an eyebrow. “And then live with him happily ever after?”
“Mm-hmm.” All her anger has smoked off, and she’s just eagerly at work now. “You know Grimm was a bastard for not writing me into a beautiful, romantic story. So I’ll just have to take things into my own hands now.”
Damn, I thought she was only joking when she talked about finding a prince for herself. Now, an awkward feeling twists my stomach. She can’t really do this, right? I mean, our story is carved in stone. She can’t just replace me with a different ever after.
What will become of me if she slips into another tale? I’m the big, bad Wolf. There aren’t too many options for someone like me in Fairyland. I can either start blowing the three little pigs’ houses down, or take up a role in Peter and the Wolf. But Peter is… Well, shit, I don’t want to play with Peter.
Riley starts working the back end of her arrow by cutting a thin slit and sliding in a couple of small leaves for fletching feathers. When she’s done, she crosses to the tree to get her bow and draws it for a test. It looks good. Way too good. Actually, it looks as if it really might function for the purpose it was made for.
Done with my own arrow, I stand up and walk toward her, twisting the stick through my fingers. A gloomy edge enters my voice. “Do you even know how it works? Where you have to hit your prince to make him fall in love with you?”
“I’ll just aim at his heart.” Her spirited grin and lighthearted mood back in place, she turns to me with the bow drawn and points the arrow straight at my chest.
I stop the stick-twisting. A dangerous growl escapes me. “Bad idea, honeydrop.” With two fingers, I push the tip of her weapon away. “We don’t want that to accidentally go off.”
She laughs, stepping back and raising the arrow again. Same target. “Why not? Afraid of feeling a little love for someone?”
Oh, Red Riding Hood wants to play? Let’s make sure she really understands the rules then. “If you shoot this at me, you’re the only person around that I could fall in love with.” My chin dipped low and my eyes focused on her, I walk toward her with a slow, predatory stride. “So, tell me, little Riley…do you really want a lovesick wolf on your ass?”
Realization of the danger she’s toying with finally glistens in her eyes. But it doesn’t unhinge her reckless smile. She backs away from me slowly, my heart still in the line of fire. “Ooh, a cute little puppy—whoa!” Her feet get tangled in the red puddle of fabric behind her, and the arrow zooms off as she tumbles to the ground.
Thanks to devilishly fast reflexes, I catch the stick one-handed right before the sharp end drills through my skin. Mere pressure from my thumb breaks this one, and Riley’s mouth falls open as she watches. Apparently, it’s time to teach Red Riding Hood a lesson.
I toss the two ends away, not letting the brat on the ground out of my sight. With a very slow prowl, I change into the Wolf, feeling the warm grass beneath my four paws as I move on. Still motionless on her back, her eyes widen in shock. I know why. She’s never, ever seen me do this. As I step right over her, I bare my teeth at her face and puff a steamy breath against her skin, my snout a mere inch from her nose.
And now…beg for your life, little girl.
My wolf face reflects in her huge, frightened eyes. Her cheeks are pale, and her breathing is shaky. Yep, that’s exactly the reaction I wanted. But then she blinks a couple of times, and a seriously cute smile dispels her scared expression. “I’m sorry, Jack.”
No. I won’t excuse this!