Just A Little Wicked: A Limited Edition Collection of Magical Paranormal and Urban Fantasy Tales

by Lily Luchesi

  She turned back to me. “Yes, Mr Holloway. Company. I am quite sure Elizabeth Wells will be missing you. Now, if you would not mind, I shall thank you to release my arm.” Her eyes held more emotion than I had seen in a long time, before she tugged free and walked away.

  I would have sworn jealousy had just shown its face.

  ***

  “Who was it this week, Sean?” James asked on my return home.

  I studied my brother, my Alpha, crowned as such for his mature years at the death of our father. Dark eyes stared back from beneath darker hair, his six foot four frame indefinable whilst he sat. His likeness to me, or mine to him, never failed to be a marvel to me.

  “There were none who took my fancy,” I told him.

  His laughter arrived loud. “There is always one.”

  “Yes, come on, Sean,” said our fair-haired housemate, Charles. “Who was she?”

  Something told me to remain quiet about my infatuation with the Stonehouse girl. “I chatted with Lord Wells’ daughter for a short while.”

  “I knew one had left their scent upon you.” Philip, who lived in our other property on the south side of the forest, joined us often, and oft joined in any banter, also.

  “However, she bored me,” I added. “So I left without her.”

  My fellow pack members stared at me.

  I looked back, equally as steady—from my brother, to Charles, to the green eyes of Philip. Having just told them of my second ever trip into the village that did not end in the sating of my lust, I could understand their disbelief.

  When their attentions did not waver, sending a prickle of unease across my shoulders, my gaze broke first, and I turned away, leaving the kitchen before they could question me further.

  I had, I realised with a jolt, just kept my first secret from those inside the pack.

  2

  Her absence from my life for another week should not have been that hard to accept, yet even the scent left behind on my clothing brought no relief to my longing for her. When I hovered at the periphery of the forest, near the path to the marketplace, the decision to be there did not astonish me.

  My disappointment grew, though, each time a new human passed by and it turned out not to be her. I thought myself foolish, when my heart sank upon spying Jem’s sister from my concealed position and finding she walked alone.

  My presence remaining unacknowledged, I waited for minutes afterwards, in the hope that Jem would be on her way to meet her. When she still did not, I turned to leave, but after only a few strides, I sensed movement that made me turn back. Eyes narrowing, I caught sight of Jem, just as she crossed a break in the overgrown bushes.

  With the first trickle of excitement flushing through my veins, I raced back the way I’d come and burst through the trees, onto the path before her.

  She gasped, those blue eyes of hers widening, and half stumbled back a step.

  “Jem, please wait.” I raised my palms in apology.

  Pressing her hands to her chest, she took deep breaths. “Do you always accost unsuspecting victims?”

  I gave a quiet chuckle. “Accost? I merely wanted to attract your attention.”

  “Well, you most certainly did that.” Her gaze remained on me before turning toward where I’d emerged, and she took a few steps toward the first line of timber, from where she peered within. “You were in the forest.”

  I moved nearer until my elbow brushed hers, somehow reassured by the contact. “Yes.”

  Her expression held curiosity, as she leaned forward. “’Tis not safe, Mr Holloway. Wolves inhabit the forest.”

  “Wolves?” Swallowing hard, I checked myself before I could reveal anything more, breathing a small laugh as though to discredit her words. “How could you know such a thing?”

  She lifted her face to me. “I have heard their calls. Their songs hold a haunting quality, which I find quite beautiful, if I am fortunate enough to hear them.”

  Head tilted, I took in her sincerity. “Have you ever entered, Jem?” She could not have. Surely, the forest would have been reluctant to release a scent such as hers once held captive within its confines.

  “Mother forbids it.” Her attention returned to the density of green hues and browns before her. “She says the wolves are not to be trusted.”

  I held in my concern at her words. “What does your mother know of the wolves?”

  She did not answer immediately, but her brows tightened, as though in contemplation. After a few seconds, she shrugged. “I would not know.” She backed away onto the path. “Mother barely tells me anything, other than what to do.”

  The hem of her dress brushed the dust beneath her feet, as she turned and walked away, leaving me behind with little other to do than watch.

  Her blue skirt bore no bustle, and her swinging hips mesmerised me with each of her steps, drawing my gaze to her slim waist encased within a bodice the colour of a young fawn. Lifting my sights higher, I followed the sway of the escaped blonde tendrils, which refused to remain fastened each time I saw her.

  “Jem?” I called, before she could go any farther.

  Halting, she lifted her skirt and turned back, her eyes bright beneath the glaring sun. “Yes?”

  The sight of her, in that moment, tripled my heart rate, halted my words, and quickened my breaths in a hunger I had never before experienced, and all rationality evaporated. “I could take you into the forest—if you wish to enter, that is. You would be safe with me.”

  She stared for a long pause before her musical laughter tinkled out. “You are quite humorous in your attempts.”

  I frowned.

  “Safe?” she asked, walking back toward me. “With you? I very much doubt I would be safe with you anywhere. You reek of danger.”

  My lips curved. “I hold far less danger than you.” My smile widened at her barked out laugh. “A young female such as yourself could easily convince a male to behave in the most unusual manner .... In fact, I would very much like to steal a kiss from you.”

  “You do not even know me, Mr Holloway.”

  I took a step to bridge the distance still between us. “When will you cease with the formal address and call me by the name I have requested of you?”

  Her eyebrow lifted a little, as her lips twitched. “When you cease to be a stranger.” She spun and marched away.

  With one stride and a reach of my hand, I snared her arm, bringing her to me. A small squeak escaped her, as my hand cupped the back of her head and drew her mouth to mine.

  She raised her hands, pressed against my chest, but I tasted her lips in a chaste kiss before she could push me away.

  Brushing over her cheek to her ear, I murmured, “I hear the trip of your heart, the hastening of your breaths. Tell me you do not desire me.”

  Her voice no longer held steadiness with her answered, “I do not.”

  Coming back for another sample of her mouth, I smiled to myself when her fingers twisted within the loose folds of my shirt, and my groin stirred, when her tongue darted out to greet mine.

  I broke off and met her eyes, shining and bright and staring back at me. “Tell me you do not think of me when you lie alone in the night,” I whispered against her lips.

  “I do not, Mr Holloway, and I shall thank—”

  Her breath caught, as I swept around to her ear. “You are lying ... poorly.”

  At the quiet approach of steps, I lifted my gaze to see Jem’s sister coming our way along the path from the village. The way she stared, the sharp lines of her face, told me she had spotted us.

  Giving a low growl of regret, I straightened. “I think someone is looking for you.”

  Colour high in her cheeks, Jem patted at herself before turning. “Jessica.”

  “My offer still stands,” I said. “We could be within the forest before she reaches us.”

  “Jem?” her sister called out, increasing her pace toward where we stood.

  As Jem turned back to me, I caught her chin to hold her st
eady and lowered my gaze to hers. “I dare you.”

  I walked backward from her, hoping my eagerness to get her alone did not reveal itself through the fabric of my trousers.

  She seemed unsure as she turned from me to her sister, even more so when Jessica raised her hems, her feet moving faster.

  “Jem?”

  Breaking through the edge of the forest alone, I was certain I had lost—that she would not come—but, surprising me, Jem grasped bunches of her skirt and darted toward me, just as her sister reached her vacated space.

  Reaching out, I took her hand and led her beyond the first trees, but we made it no more than a few steps before Jessica grasped Jem’s arm and stalled our flight.

  Her eyes pleaded, when Jem turned back to her. “Mother said we mustn’t go into the forest. And certainly not with the likes of Mr Holloway.”

  “Tell Mother you left me at the marketplace, and I was there with you this morn,” Jem said in a hurried response.

  Jessica took a step back, her eyes wide. “I will do no such—”

  “Please, Jessica. I have asked nothing of you before, but I ask this of you now. Please do not speak of this to Mother.”

  The dark haired girl studied her sister for moments, before her eyes shifted to me and back to Jem. Releasing an unsteady sigh, she nodded. “Go on. Before I come to my senses.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a nod.

  Hand still in mine, Jem allowed me to lead her into the shade.

  ***

  Beside the forest stream, a fallen trunk from winter last provided a sufficient resting place for Jem. If James detected the hint of a human alongside a trail of my own, he would be furious, so it seemed the best area to take her, as the hunts rarely stretched that far to the northeast.

  Her skirt splayed around her to drape over the log and moist ground, as her outstretched hands offered balance to her bowed back. The sun seeping through the branches lent a glow to her cheeks and raised chest.

  Head resting against my linked fingers, I lay upon a blanket of twigs and scattered fern beside the riverbank and watched her face tilt toward the sky.

  “It is quite beautiful here,” she said. “I have never been surrounded by such silence.”

  “The forest is never silent, Jem.”

  I heard plenty: the breeze and the susurrant whispers of its passing, the gurgles of the river as it travelled its merry journey, the chirp of fledglings in the highest of branches, scurrying, wings, pecking, the faint and distant gobbling of a fox.

  “I hear nothing but the wind.”

  “Because that is all you expect to hear.” I rolled up and knelt before her. “Close your eyes.”

  Her chin lowered, and she narrowed her stare, but I brushed my fingers over her lids until they dropped and held my hand over them.

  Leaning close to her ear, I whispered, “Trust me.”

  “Is that another of your attempts at humour?”

  “Do you find me amusing?”

  “Not at all.”

  I chuckled before hushing her to be quiet. “Listen carefully. What do you truly hear?”

  It took immense effort to show restraint whilst so near. A tilt of my head revealed the hint of her small breasts, peeking from the bodice of her dress, and each intake of her scent sent shivers down my spine.

  “The wind,” she whispered, her breath skating over my cheek.

  “Not good enough. Try harder.”

  The breeze she spoke of blew through on the river’s current and toyed with her hair. At that moment, I wished I were the wind, free to dance across her flesh, seep through her clothing, and explore the forbidden depths of her body beneath.

  “Birds,” she said, her murmur drawing me back.

  “What else?” I asked.

  She gave a sigh before falling quiet.

  Pulling back to study her, I smiled at her frown of concentration, and had urges I wished I didn’t have to suppress, as her lips parted to allow the passage of her breaths. When I moved back to her ear, her hair blew around to tickle my cheek, and her artery drummed against my jaw, matching the throb of my own below. Considering tasting her pulsation, I tilted my head toward the flesh there.

  “I hear you, Mr Holloway,” she whispered, causing me to pause. “I hear your breaths and the beat of your heart.”

  Leaning back, I removed my hand from her eyes, but she did not open them.

  “There is gentle thunder somewhere deep within your chest,” she continued, and when she lifted her lids, her moist eyes glistened like two pools on a winter’s eve.

  The urge to tear at her clothing, and relieve myself of the pressure her presence encouraged, rushed at me with the force of a malignant wolf. Yet, taking a deep breath that shuddered my shoulders, I did not. Rather, fingers cramping against fulfilling my needs, I took her hand and introduced her to more that the forest had to offer.

  Oddly, my first day with a female I did not devour turned out to be one of my most favoured.

  ***

  On my entrance into the kitchen, the entire pack paused in their chatter. James sat in his usual position at the head of the table, Charles beside my empty seat to his left. Philip ceased in talking to Edward, who glanced up with shrewd grey eyes beneath equally grey hair, from the other side of James. At the foot of the table, the end nearest the back door, Giles, his brown hair in its usual tumbling disarray, stared at my arrival. Amidst them, the table held the remains of the meal I had missed.

  James stood, his chair scraping the tile floor. “You are late.”

  “I became distracted.”

  The seated men chuckled at my words. James did not.

  I circled the table toward the hall. James’s nostrils flared as I reached him, his sense of smell the most powerful, and I increased my step to pass behind.

  “You have not eaten,” he said.

  “I will eat once I have bathed.” I ducked into the hall and strode to the staircase.

  Footsteps followed me along the tiled passageway before a hand grasped my shoulder. “Sean?”

  When I looked back at James, his brows lowered in contrast to my raised ones.

  “Tell me you have not been with the same female.”

  “You must be confused,” I said, suppressing the swallow stuck in my throat. “Last week, I left with no female, if you recall. So, how could I have been with the same female this week?”

  Shrugging him free, I continued my path, but his pursuing scrutiny weighted my climb of the stairs.

  The second lie had been told to retain my secret.

  3

  Another long week passed until my next excursion day, and I ignored what my body told me as I’d clothed myself that morning in my usual attire of white cotton above black trousers and boots.

  With fortune on my side, I passed through the house undisturbed, and soft rain dampened my hair and face on my emergence outside. The falling of it lent a soft music to the forest leaves, which stirred in response upon the surrounding branches I stepped beneath.

  “Sean?”

  Sheltered by the greenery, I turned to see James crossing the grass.

  “Where are you going?” he asked upon reaching me.

  “The marketplace.” Lies became easier to tell with practice.

  He frowned. “Do you know of the day?”

  I raised my eyebrow as I smiled. “Tuesday.”

  “I suspect you know that is not what I refer to.”

  My chest heaved with my sigh. “I will be fine.”

  “You have never been out on the morn of the full moon before. Your youth is not your strength in the matter. Why not alter your day and go tomorrow instead, as you usually do?”

  I had promised Jem I would meet her, but could not give James my true reasoning. “I will be back by lunch.”

  His sigh matched mine, as his stare held me in place. When my eyes struggled to remain in line with his, he cupped my neck, holding me steady. “If something is bothering you, Sean, I expect you to talk to m
e.”

  I tried not to peer away, to disguise my unease. “What could bother me when the hunt looms so near?”

  He did not release me, but continued his unspoken study. His eyes held intensity as they searched mine—for my secrets, I presumed. When he eventually stepped back, he ruffled my hair. “Be home by noon.”

  I watched him walk away before turning to leave.

  ***

  The simpler her attire, the more beautiful she became—maybe because it revealed the shape of her body, riveting my eyes to her. Her flouncy cuffs fluttered around her narrow wrists, a pale green bodice accentuated her waist, and the delicate floral fabric of her skirt concealed the undignified pose she took to face me upon the fallen trunk.

  “Mother grew suspicious of the late hour at which I arrived home,” she said.

  “Were you reprimanded?”

  She shook her head before smiling. “Jessica can be very convincing.”

  “And your father? Was he also angered?”

  The smile dissolved into a frown, and she tipped her face down toward where her fingers traced the rough bark. “My father died when I was small.”

  Reaching across, I lifted her chin until our eyes met. “Mine, also, passed away some time ago.”

  “How did he die?” she asked. “My father was a carpenter who failed to shield himself whilst working. Mother said Doctor Wilson could not arrive in time to stop the bleeding. What happened to your father?”

  Compelled to tell her everything about myself, I floundered for words to protect her from the truth. After a while, I said, “He died in a disagreement,” and realised I had spoken with honesty.

  “I am very sorry to hear that, Mr Holloway.”

  “Sean,” I murmured as we stared at each other. “My name is Sean.”

  “And my name is Miss Stonehouse, yet you constantly decline to use it.”

  My quiet laugh escaped on a breath. “I have a preference for Jem. It has a uniqueness, which befits a female who is not like any other I have met.”

  “You are quite easily misled.” She smiled. “There is nothing exceptional about me.”

  “Your mother must have thought so. Why else would she have marked you with an unusual name?”