Enchanting Wilder

by Cassie Graham

  Getting to know him on that deeper level helped me see so clearly who he was. It was eye-opening and exciting.

  For someone so tough—so incredibly weighed down by his life—when he lets go, it’s beautiful to watch. His relaxed demeanor and easy smile gives me a little hope. Like his burdens aren’t so heavy at the moment.

  “We’re here,” he announces. I take note of the clock on the dashboard. Eleven thirty.

  “Here, where?” We’re in the middle of a grassy field, the blades higher than my ankles. I’m slightly excited to see what he has planned and a tiny bit terrified of what’s lurking in the brush.

  He shrugs a shoulder. Letting go of me, he opens his door and walks to the back of the car.

  He pulls out a blanket first, and then a backpack.

  “What’s all this?” I ask as I walk up behind him.

  He snickers and closes the trunk. “My survival kit.”

  I quirk an eyebrow and clumsily fumble as he makes his way to the front of the car. Thank God he left the headlights on. My baby deer-like ass is going to fall flat on my face with these heels and soft soil.

  Laying out the blanket on the ground, he sets down the backpack and smiles. “Oh, wait. I forgot something.” He jogs back to the car as I make myself comfortable on the ground.

  Crossing my legs, I lazily grin to myself.

  “Here.” He hands me a warm jacket with a wink.

  I shove my arms in the big holes, taking in a discreet smell of the leather fabric. It smells like Declan.

  Sitting next to me, Declan pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a bag of chips from the backpack.

  “What else do you have in there?” I ask, trying to sneak a peek into the bag of goodies.

  “Stuff.”

  I smile and shove a chip in my mouth, savoring the salty taste. Again, we sit in silence, listening to the sounds of the Earth and the calming rhythm of our breathing. I take lazy sips from my paper cup of alcohol. It stings, but warms my body at the same time.

  “What do you want in life, McKenna?” Declan asks after a while.

  I sit back on my hands and look up to the sky, the stars shining magnificently against the black backdrop of night. “As in my life? Like career-wise?” I look to him.

  He laughs and brings his hand to my face. “No, Mighty. Not career-wise. I mean—what do you want in life? What are the things you want most but don’t have?”

  I take a good long minute to process his question, though I know my answer the moment he asks. It’s so easy to put up walls and facades around other people. I can act like I’m good living the life I am, simmering in the death of my parents. But I’m not. I’m bored and burdened. I’m missing something. And just like always, word vomit spews from my mouth because when I’m around Declan. I just can’t help myself. “I really want closure for my parents.” His eyes squint, listening with intent. “And,” I bury my face in my hands, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this…” I take a deep breath. “I just want some passion. I’m tired of the mundane. I desperately crave to find happiness in something greater than myself. And it’s so odd because I’ve never even wanted such a thing. There was always something in the way. Obligations to uphold. I just want to find a way to live without the burden of my family’s responsibilities. And allowing myself that one little thing, maybe I can find a way.”

  Way to unload.

  I’m out of breath and my body is shaking by the time I’m done confessing. I look down, away from Declan—ashamed. Who does that? He’s a stranger, McKenna.

  I’ve never—in my entire life—told someone those things. I mean, sure, the parents’ thing is new. I haven’t had the time to really delve into it with anyone. Candy and I usually skirt around the whole ordeal altogether, both of us too distraught to really talk about it out loud.

  I never got closure with them; not the kind I wanted—needed—anyway. One minute they were here and the next minute, poof, gone. To add to the sadness, I haven’t seen them since they’ve passed. Living in a supernatural world does sometimes have its upsides. For example, talking to the dead, but they never found me. I can’t stop myself from wondering if it’s because I’ve done something wrong.

  But, the rest of my confession? The part about passion, and the burden of my duty as a Strix…that’s something I’ve only ever thought to myself. It was always my weight to carry. Not even Candy knows about the constant back and forth battle I have inside. She lives harmoniously amongst our people, dutifully doing her job and taking life as it comes. Whereas I—I feel like a sheep in a herd of wild animals, just waiting to be gobbled up by some hungry ravenous wolf.

  Declan takes a deep breath and pulls me to him, his strong arm wrapping around my shoulder. He brings his face to the side of my head and kisses my temple. He doesn’t pull away; he takes his time, pouring his comfort into me.

  After long moments, he speaks, his lips against my skin, “Why do you think you can’t have those things?”

  “I never said I couldn’t have them.” He pulls away, his eyes searching mine. “I guess, I don’t feel like I should get those things,” I confess.

  “Why would you say that?”

  I rub my lips together, not sure if I’m ready to tell him. To drop the disgusting doubt I have burning inside of me.

  “You can tell me, Mighty.”

  Setting my head on his shoulder, I attempt to muster any sort of courage hidden somewhere deep within me. “I’ve never really felt like I fit in this life. It’s almost like I might have made a mistake in a past life and I was dropped here, in this coven, and I wasn’t meant to be.”

  “You believe in past lives?”

  “Strix do. We were taught to. Live your life as a Strix, die and come back. Over and over again. I’m supposedly an eleventh-generation Sawyer Strix. But I’m the only one in my entire family who can’t remember my past lives. None of them. Almost like I’ve forgotten.”

  “Or they were erased.”

  I’ve definitely wondered that before, too. “Yeah, or erased. I don’t know.”

  Declan thinks for long moments. “If you believe in past lives, won’t you see your parents again?”

  My jaw set, I shake my head. “No. Not in my lifetime, at least.”

  Declan’s mouth pulls to the side. “What do The Leaders have to say about your memories?”

  I shrug a shoulder and lift my head, only now realizing the wetness brimming over my eyes. Declan takes his thumb and wipes the tears away, caressing my face with the back of his knuckles when my cheek is dry.

  “They aren’t happy about it. They say the memories will come back when I allow them to.” I roll my eyes. It sounds so simple when they put it like that.

  “How does this tie into you not feeling worthy of getting the things you want?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t fulfilled my duty to my family, or my coven, or to the damn world. Maybe I’m not worthy of such things.”

  “Just because you feel unworthy doesn’t mean you are.”

  I sigh dejectedly, a tear falling.

  “Hey.” Declan catches my face in his hands. He smiles and swipes under my wet eyes. “You shouldn’t have to work to be worthy of anything. If anyone tells you otherwise, they’re dicks.”

  I snort, grateful of his lightheartedness.

  Declan inches closer to me. “There is something I can give you.” His minty, warm breath cascades over my face, triggering my body to hum in eagerness. “The passion…that, I can do.”

  Whoa. ‘Just drive,’ unexpectedly turned into something a whole lot more.

  He slowly starts to bring his lips to mine and I’m a little taken by surprise. I mean—sure, he was inching toward me and had lustful bedroom eyes. Oh God, his bedroom eyes are so damn beautiful. I just didn’t think he’d actually go in for the kiss.

  But as as he finally meets my lips, I literally have to talk myself out of willing my clothes to vanish. Yes, I can do that.

  Soft and inviting, I meld my mo
uth to his. He brings his hand to my side, kneading my skin, setting my body on fire. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I hold onto him, anchoring him to me. My hands pull at him—needing more, craving it. I love the way our bodies so effortlessly work together.

  I bite his bottom lip and he groans, letting go. Becoming ravenous.

  I’m not so cold any more. The woods are my new favorite place. It now holds something special, something magical…intoxicating.

  Crickets chirp in the distance and I wonder if they’ll ever hold the same mundane significance they did before. They used to be irrelevant, unimportant creatures. But now? I can’t imagine a world without them. They’re the soundtrack to a kiss that brought me back to the land of the living. Everything I’ve wanted—everything I’ve needed—is being laid out in front of me by Declan. His passion overwhelms me, and for the first time in my life, my sense of self is overflowing. I no longer feel the need to second-guess my desires.

  Every kiss, every stroke of his tongue with mine brings me closer to who I’m supposed to be. It feels as if I’ve been waiting my entire life to find someone to kiss me like this. So passionately—full of want and need.

  Declan takes hold of me gently, placing both hands on the side of my face. He slows his pace, and pulls away, kissing my nose.

  I’m panting with fervor and smile when his green eyes look into mine.

  Declan lowers his voice. “That was…”

  I nod, still gasping for air. “It was.”

  His eyes narrow on my mouth and, without a second thought, he brings his hand to my chin, exposing my neck. He lightly sucks and kisses, emanating a noise from deep within my throat I’ve never heard myself make before. He bites. I know the second his teeth connect with my skin he’s marked me. I’m his. One-hundred percent. I’m irretrievably his.

  When he pulls back to look at me, his eyes soften. “You’re going to ruin the long streak I have going.”

  My bottom teeth scrap my lip and smile, a little lightheaded. “What streak?”

  “The longtime bet I have with myself to not fall for someone.”

  My heart stops and my cheeks flush. “Well, I’m glad.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you now?”

  I look him square in the eyes so he knows I’m serious. “I think so.”

  He clears his throat and leans in to kiss my forehead. “Good. We should probably head back. I think it’s time I talk to you and Candy.”

  Blinking rapidly, I sober and frown. If he needs to talk to the both of us, it can’t be good. “O—okay.”

  It’s silent when we saunter into the house. Gripping Declan’s hand, I lead him up the stairs to my room. It sits on the far side of the hall, away from Candy’s bedroom.

  Declan closes the door behind him and looks around, paying special attention to the four-poster bed I’ve had since I was a teenager and the light pink duvet that covers it. He glances at my antique wooden desk and laptop, paired with my blue computer chair. Touching his fingers to his lips, he opens the door to my closet and skims his hand on the shirts and jeans that are hung up. I watch him with captivated attention. Never missing the way his eyes widen when he spots something he likes; in particular, a dress he found in the back that’s deep red and ridiculously short. He even grew excited when he found my favorite pair of brown combat boots.

  When he exits the closet, his eyes land on my collection of books. They sit on the opposite side of my room, taking up an entire wall’s worth of space. He steps in front of the bookshelf and pulls out an old leather-bound, cracked book.

  “What’s this?” he asks as he flips through the pages, his eyebrows down.

  “That’s my family’s Book of Whispers.”

  His eyes squint and he stops to read a page. “Book of Whispers? Like, your covens’ book of spells?”

  I stand next to him, my arm brushing his. “That’s exactly what it is. But,” I stop to caress a page, feeling slightly confused, “mortals can’t see it. Are you able to read what it says?”

  He closes the book and sets it back on the shelf. “I mean—I could see the words on the page. But I couldn’t read the language.”

  I give him a curious look. “That’s so odd. Mortals aren’t supposed to be able to see anything on the pages.”

  He shrugs. “Must be because I’m a Pursuer.”

  That’s probably true. Pursuers are technically part of the supernatural realm.

  “Your room is nice.” He smirks, touching the fluffy pink comforter.

  I purse my lips and shove him, laughing at his carefreeness. His rough exterior in my overly girlish room is a contrast, that’s for sure.

  The scruff on his face is longer today, making kissing him an entirely new experience. The guys I’ve kissed before Declan have always been clean-shaven. I never really went outside of my comfort zone before. It’s a good change.

  His clothes aren’t creased like I’m used to seeing, either. Maybe he wasn’t sitting in them all day, looking over mountains of research, without any time to change before dashing out the door. And his eyes—the eyes that look at me with such intensity—they almost don’t fit in the room where I slept as a child.

  Then again, on the other hand, he totally fits here. He fits here better than I do.

  “When do you think Candy will be home?”

  I look at my phone. “No clue. She hasn’t texted, but that’s not anything new. She’s probably with Jared.”

  “As in The Ackalades, Jared? I saw them kissing earlier. I was wondering if they had a thing.”

  “They do.” I shake my head. “Or did. I don’t know. They’re so back and forth, I can hardly keep up anymore.”

  Declan nods and lays down, making himself comfortable, his head hitting the soft pillow with a whoosh. The fabric rustles around him and he snuggles in, putting an arm behind his head. He gestures at me with the other hand and I lean in to rest my head on his chest, wrapping my arm around his middle. He sighs contently and nestles close to me. With his guard down, I’m almost scared to move. His smooth and steady heartbeat under my ear reminds me I need to take more time to live for me, as opposed to living for my job. I need more moments like these in my life—so simple, yet coveted.

  I lift my head up and set my chin on his chest, admiring the way he looks so peaceful with his eyes closed. He must feel me staring because he smiles, his grasp on my body tightening. I bring my hand up to his face and touch the light dusting of hair on his jaw.

  He sighs, opening his eyes. “Tell me something no one else knows.”

  My hand stills on his face. Something no one else knows? “I hate the color black.”

  His eyes squint. “That wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, but I’ll humor you. Why don’t you like the color black?”

  I move my hand away from his face and tuck it underneath my body. “Where there’s light there’s dark, right?”

  “Generally, yes.”

  “As a child, we were told Mara were the bad—always. They were the ones we had to worry about. Sure, there are other monsters in the world, but Mara—they are the ones looking to destroy Strix specifically. While I’ve never actually seen a Mara, I’ve had nightmares about them, which is where the loathing of black comes in. For as long as I could remember, if I had a nightmare involving a Mara, their eyes would turn this sickening black and their once beautiful features morphed into hideousness. There isn’t lore, or a book on them to study. There’s just speculation. All we know about them is based off of what The Leaders taught us. I sometimes wonder if they made up the Mara. You know, to spur us into doing our duty. What if the tattered soul isn’t given to them?” I shake my head. “I hope that’s not true.”

  Declan rubs my back. “Where do you think mortal souls go if not to the Maras when it chooses bad?”

  I swallow hard; scared my inner worry is correct. Or hell—that The Leaders can hear me. “Hell? To another world? I don’t know.”

  “Damn.”

  “That was basi
cally my crazy ass way of explaining why I hate black. It brings in all of these unwanted emotions I’m not ready to confront. So black can suck it.”

  Declan laughs and tilts my head up to look at him. “Should I be offended? I basically wear black every day of my life.”

  I squint, taking a good, hard look at the man staring back at me. I shake my head. “No. The black brings out the turquoise in your eyes. They’re a completely different color, and it cancels out my ridiculous need to hate black. Lately, it doesn’t make me feel scared or sad or any other cruel reaction, it…it settles me.” I stroke his face. “No, Declan, seeing you wear black, and the way it manipulates your eyes, it now brings out a different feeling altogether.”

  He chews on the inside of his bottom lip and doesn’t say anything. His hand stills on my back and the creases in his forehead make me wonder if I said something wrong—or too deep. We’re just learning about each other. Maybe I crossed a line.

  Moving his eyes all over my face, searching for something, his furrowed brow deepens. I notice the absence of his hand on my back instantly and I sit up, crossing my legs.

  I suddenly feel too vulnerable and want to curl up on my side to hide from him. His scrutiny terrifies me. I like him, but Jesus, I need to get myself under control.

  Rising on his elbows, the lines in his forehead lessen and he looks down, away from my eyes. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”