Isabella

Roman held his hands over my eyes and led me through the woods, making sure that I didn’t bump into any twigs or trees.

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to peek around his fingers.

“Patience, Isabella,” he said. 

We walked for five more minutes with me in complete darkness. And then he suddenly stopped. 

When he peeled back his hands, I gasped. “You brought me back to the cave?” I asked, walking around it. 

We hadn’t been here since we were pups, when Luna Raya would invite me on playdates with Roman and we’d get lost in the woods.

It had been so long. So fucking long.

Moonflowers hung from the top of it, growing through rocks and dirt and twinkling softly. I grinned at them, bringing one to my nose and inhaling its scent.

“Roman,” I said breathlessly.

He stared at me, trying to suppress a grin, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you remember this place?”

“Of course I do!”

His grin widened, and he walked to one side of the cave, drawing his fingers across the stone and over the stupid little drawings that we used to create in here. “My favorite part about coming here was drawing these things.”

I walked over to him, gazing over his shoulder, and sighed softly. “Is that a turtle?” I asked, trying to make out the disfigured animal carved into the rock.

“You tell me,” he said. “That was your drawing.”

“Was not!”

“Was too!” He walked a few feet forward to the last drawing that we’d ever made here. Though they were all ruined just a little, this one was clearer than the others. “This one is mine.”

It was a beautifully detailed carving of a full circle, representing the moon, and a silhouette of a woman in front of it. 

I stared at it for a long time and smiled. “The Moon Goddess.”

He tensed—as if it wasn’t of the Moon Goddess but he didn’t want to admit to who he had drawn—and stared down at me, parting his lips to peak but no words came out. Instead, he leaned down, picked up a small rock, and handed it to me.

“You want to draw another one?” I asked.

“For old times’ sake,” he said, cracking a smile. 

He sat down on the dusty ground, taking a stone in his hand, too, and I sat next to him.

“What’re you going to draw?” I asked, leaning over his shoulder and inhaling his minty scent. 

He pushed the rock into the wall and carved. I watched him with excitement, blurting out guesses now and then. He chuckled each time, asking me if his drawing was that bad when I guessed he was drawing a stick figure, and continued.

I stared between Roman and the drawing, my heart racing. The way his eyes shifted effortlessly around the rock, the way he moved his hand so smoothly, the spark in his eye … it made me feel young again.

He glanced over at me, and I knew he felt it too. It was like those tingles he had given me but something more, something deeper.

His eyes drifted to my smile and then to the rock in my hand. “Let me help you,” he said, scooting closer to me. 

He rested one leg beside my thigh and one behind me, so I sat directly between his legs. 

When he grasped my hand, we both tensed. But then he leaned closer to me and placed my hand against the stone wall, moving my wrist in all different directions to create a carving of a werewolf.

His breath was on my neck, his heart was beating against my back, his scent was enveloping me. We were close and not close, like we had been earlier.

I shifted slightly, letting him rest his chin on my shoulder and enjoying when he took a big breath of me.

After we finished the drawing, he reluctantly released my hand and put down the stone. We didn’t move for a long time, just stayed close, stayed so close that we could feel each other breathing.

And I never wanted the night to end.

Author’s Note: Since this book has been published, I cannot add it all to Tapas. But if you would like to read more of this book, you can read this book PLUS all my other content on Ream at ReamStories.com/EmiliaRose 💖