Chapter Text
One step to the right.
Three steps to the left.
They can taste fear. At least that's what you've always been told. So instead of letting your anxiety get the better of you—you focus on your breathing. Nevermind the fact that every step you take is one they follow. That you can hear the sound of every twig and branch bending under feet that shouldn't be following you but are. Of course, there's the argument that technically you shouldn't be in these woods. You've always been such a good girl. Never staying out passed dark. Running back home and locking the door behind you as soon as it got dark out. Ignoring the sounds you hear or things you see in the trees the closer it gets to night. So what was so different about tonight?
Truthfully, there was nothing spectacular that stands out about this night. Not the way the moon is full and hangs high in clouds that try to swallow it whole. Nor the way the trees seem to be watching your every step the deeper you venture into the woods. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. Every nerve in your body on alert. There is something dangerous watching you and you can feel it. Always more in tune with your intuition than you let on. Though sometimes you fail to listen to it.
Like now.
One.
Two.
Three.
In through your nose.
Out through your mouth.
Four.
Five.
Something growls in the depths of the darkness hidden between the trees.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
This is one of the moments when you really should listen to your intuition. When you know that opening your eyes is only going to hinder your ability to get away. But you do so anyways. Not because you need to cleanly look to make sure that there isn't a pair of eyes watching you from somewhere, but because you really should look where you're going. Your eyes drop to follow the steps your feet take as you walk deeper into the woods you definitely should not be in. The leaves around you begin to rustle as you walk. Just not from you. Certain that if you dared to look up from your path that you would find something there staring back at you.
You are being watched.
Nine.
Ten.
You blink and hot breath fans across your face. When your eyes open you are met with molten gold. Eyes blown wide and feral as though he wants to tear you apart with his teeth. Maybe he truly does. If you were normal, you would have been scared. Wind rips through your hair and over your skin as you are thrown backwards. Not far, but far enough that pain sings up your spine as it collides with a tree. The force of which you hit the tree with shakes the branches above. Shaking leaves loose from their place to rain and shower down upon you both. Black dances in your vision as you struggle to keep your eyes open.
But it doesn't work.
Your eyes flutter shut.
Everything goes dark.
It's too bright when you wake.
Your eyes strain and blink to try and adjust to the too bright room you're in. Walls too white and sterile. Head throbbing when you try to lift it off the uncomfortably stiff pillow it rests on. You slump back into the unyielding bed with the rustle of paper that coats the surface. A frustrated huff leaves you as you stare up at the sterile ceiling.
"Easy Miss," a calm voice coos from your right, "We still need to run a CT scan to make sure you didn't endure any brain damage."
There's the faint sound of tapping on a keyboard, followed by the sound of a drawer shutting. You don't know who this man is, but you detest hospitals. And as far as you're aware the nearest hospital is roughly two or three hours away from where you live in the mountains. Despite your initial irritation, you listen. Turning your head to look at the doctor who advised you to rest. He looks like he can't be much older than you—if at all. Jet black hair that falls in front of hazel eyes. He's handsome in a timeless sort of way.
"Can you tell me your name, Miss?"
After a beat, you respond with your name. "What happened?"
You watch as he rolls up the sleeves of the white button up he wears before folding his arms over his chest. His brows furrowing as he thinks for a moment. "You were brought in by a Hunter from the Association. He found you out in the woods up in the mountains." There's a beat of silence. "It appears that you were attacked by some kind of animal. Do you remember anything that happened last night, Miss?"
Oh, you remember last night. At least you think you do. Because you remember that strange pull that lulled you deeper into the woods and the feeling of being watched. You remember opening your eyes to see a pair of golden suns staring back at you and barred teeth with sharp canines. You remember how you weren't scared at all despite thinking that the man might have wanted to rip the skin from your bones and feasted on the muscle beneath. But surely you can't tell a doctor any of this, right? They would think you mad and send you for a mental evaluation. So instead you just say that you remember being the woods and nothing more.
They keep you overnight for observation. Unsure if any damage was done to your brain just yet. Your results from the CT scan and MRI they performed had yet to come back and before they sent you on your way they want to make sure that you are well and truly okay. Which you appreciate, because you would really rather postpone calling your mother to ask her to drive you back home for as long as you possibly can. Because you know she'll ask you questions that you simply don't have the answers to or don't want to give. How are you supposed to explain that despite the very clear instructions of ignoring what lurks in the trees in the dark that you ventured too far into the throng of trees and somehow wound up here?
Doctor Li comes in one last time for the night. Gets one last set of vitals and your blood pressure before he logs into the computer that hovers on a swiveling counter top and enters the information he collected. He wears a face mask this time. Just as he had the last few times he came to check on you. Hair pushed back into a surgeon's cap as well. It dawns on you then that he isn't a typical doctor. So why was he here instead?
"This isn't your typical shift," you say without much thought.
"No, I'm usually in surgery all night."
"So why are you doing rounds?" Not that it's any of your business.
"Curious one, aren't you."
"Observant," you correct gently, "Surgeons aren't usually doing anything outside of their area of practice. I noticed you have a heart pendant as a pin on your lanyard. Which means that you're usually in cardiology. I don't have a heart condition."
Doctor Li sighs, pulling his mask down just passed his nose. His breath makes his glasses fog over just slightly. "We've been unusually short staffed lately. I'm covering for another doctor while the one who is usually on this shift is on maternity leave."
You keep your mouth shut this time. No further questions. And who are you to question why a doctor is doing their job regardless of their area of expertise? He tells you that he'll be back early in the morning to check you over and if things are as he suspects then you would be discharged. Tells you to try and get some sleep and that he would see you in the morning before the door clicks shut behind him and you are left alone again.
Your dreams are clouded with the man in the woods. At least you're sure they're only dreams, because you couldn't possibly keep your eyes open for more than an hour after Doctor Li left for the night. You haven't bothered to check the time. All you know is that it's dark outside when you look out the window overlooking the city. You haven't seen Linkon since you were a kid. Raised outside the city from the time you were small and once your parents divorced, you went to live in the mountains with your dad. But he passed away when you were eighteen and it's been just you and your dog and cat ever since. Regardless, the city sleeps outside and so do you. Your dreams plagued by the golden-eyed man that snarled and sent you flying into a tree so hard you ended up here. But you're not so light that you can be tossed aside like the rag doll you became.
In your dreams, you see a pair of fluffy, dark, dog ears that sit atop his head. Your fingers reach out to gently brush against them and touch the fur. They twitch at your touch and the golden-eyed man snarls at you once again. You don't know why he had the ears of a dog in your dream. But dreams work in mysterious ways so you learned to stop questioning them long ago.
The dream twists and now he's outside the window of your hospital room. Sniffing the air like he was trying to smell the food or someone had burned their tires peeling out of the parking lot. But his nose doesn't wrinkle with distaste. Instead, he looks up at the exact window that leads into your room. Molten eyes staring into your very soul…and you wake.
Discharge from the hospital runs smoother than you thought it would. The results from your CT scan and MRI come back clean—as you figured—and you had already called your mother to come pick you up. Being that you were dropped off, your car would still be at your house in the mountains. You don't have the best relationship with your mom since you chose to leave Linkon behind and never returned. But it's better than what it could be.
As the car takes a turn to leave the city, you watch as the trees whip passed by the window in blurs of green and yellows. Clumping together in orchards and fields the further you get from the city. You preferred nature anyways. It's more peaceful and easier to see the stars from where you live versus your mother's small apartment in the city. Not that you would ever need to live with her. After all, your dad left you quite a bit of money from his life insurance when he passed and you're only in your mid twenties. Haven't went through the entirety of what you were left yet. A good portion still locked away in a bank account you barely touch.
"So how did you end up in the hospital again?"
There it is.
You were wondering when your mother would begin to question you.
"I already told you," you sigh, "I went on a hike and got heat exhaustion. Passed out in the woods. Someone found me on the trails and took me in."
It's believable enough.
"How many times do I have to tell you to drink water when it's hot out and bring more water than you think you'll need just in case. If you would just mo—"
"I'm not moving back to Linkon, Mom. It's fine, really. I'll be more cautious next time."
The sigh that leaves her as the car approaches the dirt road that leads up to your house tells you she doesn't buy it. But she lets it drop for now.
Once you reach your house, you say your goodbyes and head inside—until the sun goes down.
It was time to hunt down the man from the night before.
There's no path for you to follow this time. At least not one that you need to follow anyways. This time you let that pull lead you through the trees. Leading you deeper and deeper into the throng until you cannot tell up from down nor left from right. Your heart thunders beneath your chest as the pull suddenly ends. You have no idea where you are with only the moon above to guide you back to the trails you know by heart. But with the canopy of leaves above even the moonlight is hard to bee seen. You are sufficiently lost.
Crickets sound around you. Serenading you with their soft song that mixes with the rustle of leaves. You take a deep breath. Trying to steady your rapidly beating heart as best you can with the knowledge that you have no idea where you are. And there it is— that feeling again. That feeling that someone is watching you from somewhere just out of your line of vision. It's instinct when you close your eyes to the crickets song and leaves blowing softly with the breeze. You closed your eyes the first time you had encountered him and reason would have you believe that it would work this time too.
The air around you feels wrong. Like if you so much as breathed too heavily that something might snap. But you don't dare move. It doesn't just feel wrong—it feels fragile. Like if you breathed wrong it would shatter the world around you. So you time your breaths. Counting the seconds between each one like clockwork. Holding them for three seconds each.
Your eyes open.
Just like before there is a pair of eyes made of molten gold boring into your own. A clash of the summer sun meeting the winter's moon. His teeth barred just as before and his fingers line your jaw. Holding you in place as he shoves your back into a nearby tree. His hold isn't gentle or curious. It is harsh and unrelenting. Fingertips that dig into your skin and nails that bite. You feel the warm trickle of blood slide from where his nails bite into skin. And you realize with sudden horrific clarity why you are so unafraid of this man who could rip your throat out should he so choose.
This is not a matter of intimidation.
It is a matter of familiarity.
This man is familiar to you somehow. Though you are sure you have never met him before in your life. He presses closer to you. His chest now flush with yours and noses brushing. You catch the scent of his cologne—is smells expensive. Lavender and mahogany flooding your senses and making your head swim. Your vision tunnels to nothing but him. This man holding you by the jaw against a tree with his chest to yours. His mouth curls into a vicious snarl at the corners.
Despite the very compromising position you find yourself in, you can't help but focus on the fact that you can feel every tense muscle in his torso. If his torso is any indication to the rest of him—he's tense all the way down. Muscles straining against the tight, black tank top he wears. This man could break you in half with his bare hands if he wanted to. Could leave you out here to rot until another hiker came by the trails to smell your rotting corpse. He leans down, bringing his nose just under your ear and presses it to your skin. His fingers tighten on your jaw when he pulls back. Just enough that if you titled your head just right or leaned forward your lips would brush. His eye narrow into near slits as he assess you.
His teeth sink into your skin without warning. Canines pressing down until you feel your flesh give and blood blooms to the surface. His tongue flicks out to lap at the droplets and you feel his lips curl into a smirk when a small, involuntary gasp escapes you. When he pulls away, now leaving only the tips of your noses touching with his fingers still gripping your jaw, his pupils are blown. Eyes near black with the way they blot out the gold of his irises.
There is no time for reaction when his mouth crashes against yours. His hold of your jaw loosens only to reposition with both hands on your hips. You should fight against this with all your might. This should make you sick or terrify you because you do not so much as know this man's name. Yet all you can seem to do is melt into his searing kiss and hot mouth as his fingertips press roughly into your bones. You feel his tongue run along the seam of your lips, pushing them to part and allow him to explore your mouth. And you obey. Mouth opening against his in silent admission. You bend to his will. Somehow able to sense what he wants from you before he even lifts a finger. With your leg hiking against his hip, your body seems to know what to do before you have time to register what exactly you are doing.
Your hips roll against his. Teasing and testing the restraint you know is barely holding together at all. He is holding back and you cannot fathom why that is. After all, he has you pressed against a tree in the very middle of woods that no one dares to venture. Let alone at this hour of the night. It is truly just you and him under the light of the full moon. This dangerous stranger that you feel so drain towards. It occurs to you now, that you have not fully seen his face. Only that his eyes are a bright, brilliant gold. Only felt the sharp sting of his canines as they pierced your skin. Though nothing else matters but the feeling of his mouth on yours—the sinful taste of his tongue invading your taste buds that cloud everything else.
The only thing you feel is that undeniable pull to him that you cannot ignore. His touch is like a tether that you can't escape. Nor do you want to. Even the thought makes your chest ache unbearably. So, you let his large hand travel from your hip to your thigh hiked on his. You know without a doubt that you will have his prints on your skin for the foreseeable future. A welcome thought if you were being honest. He squeezes your thigh like he owns it. As if he's owed it. And you are inclined to believe he is. That you belong to him in some hidden way that has no name to speak of.
He presses into you more firmly with his hips. Making you feel the harsh, hardened ridges of his cock. An unbridled moan rips from your throat and the smirk you feel against your mouth is enough to make your knees buckle. They would if he didn't have you sufficiently pinned or his hands on you. His mouth travels from yours along your jaw, not once breaking contact as the harsh sting of his teeth meets your skin again and again. His tongue flicks out to soothe the sting. Tasting and lavishing you with his attention as his other hand leaves your hip. You whine with the absence of his warmth and touch. Only to arch your back against the bark of the tree when a single fingertip dips between your legs. Fingertip trailing sinfully along your sopping core. A slow, traitorous glide as he tests how he's worked you.
Your slick can be felt through the denim of your jeans and you curse yourself for choosing to wear such clothing. He pulls his finger away from your core and you whimper when he brings it to his mouth. Sucks your essence off the single digit like it's the finest ambrosia he's ever tasted with a smirk and a hiss he doesn't try to hide. It is now that you catch sight of the stranger you find yourself so enraptured by.
He is devastating in his beauty.
Strong jawline that you're sure could cut through glass. A straight nose with a defined brow and mahogany red hair cropped away from his handsome face. He has an undercut that looks soft to the touch. He looks like he was carved from marble. And yet you still do not know his name. You don't need to, because he feels like you've known him all your life. As if you were made specifically with him in mind and he for you. Like every decision you ever made was meant to lead you to this exact moment. Divine intervention or something like a fate you have never known otherwise. Had you been religious you would have prayed to a higher power in thanks for leading you here.
Your eyes travel the length of him. Drinking him in under the ever soft glow of the full moon above. From the way his broad shoulders could wrap around you—dwarfing your small frame in one fell swoop—to the thickness of his biceps that appear as though they could crush your skull. And you would thank him for it too. He is nothing but pure muscle and raw man.
His voice seeps into your bones. Deep and confident when he speaks at last. "You want to know my name." It isn't a question, but a statement. Like he could sense your thoughts before you spoke them aloud. There is no denying what he already knows to be true.
His mouth is on you again. Not your own, but pressed against the soft, sensitive skin of your neck. His teeth skirt along the column of flesh just enough that you feel the prick of his canines. You shiver from the pressure. "Valko," he smirks against your neck.
The hand holding your leg squeezes your thigh again. Testing. "You're shaking," he notes, muses as if testing to see if you would try to deny the slight tremors that runs through your body. But you don't. Even if you wanted to, it was impossible to fake with the way you are pressed so close against him. "Are you scared?"
Somehow, you manage to find your voice. "No."
"Tell me what you want."
His voice holds a note of playfulness in it. As if he doesn't already know, can't tell what you want when you are pitifully soaked through your jeans. You find yourself emboldened. Brows raising as if in challenge before your clever fingers make quick work of the buckle of his belt. It is your turn to take as you please. And you do. He smirks again, your eyes immediately taking note of the dimple that forms in the divot of his cheek. You are mesmerized by his every feature. Utterly enthralled by how completely taken this man has you. The moment you have his buckle undone, your movements quicken. Fingers popping the button of the black jeans he wears and pulling down the zipper. The girth of his cock is the first thing you notice when he is free of the clothing that separates his skin from yours. While you are entirely too aware of how massive the rest of him is—his cock is no exception.
You run the pad of your thumb over the sensitive head. Taking your time in wrapping your fingers around his thickness as your thumb smears the liquid that seeps from the tip along his head. Valko sucks in a sharp breath. Meeting your determined gaze with one of his own. There's a challenge in the way he looks at you and you have never backed down from a challenge a day in your life.
Valko's hold of your leg loosens just enough to slide to the button of your jeans. One, thick finger curling around the button to pop it open with a single gesture. That same finger hooks into a belt loop and with one harsh pull your jeans fall to your ankles. The bite of the cold night air kisses your cunt and it is then that you realize that he had managed to yank your underwear down with your jeans. Leaving you completely and unabashedly bare to his gaze as it rakes down to rest between your thighs. You are slick from the apex of your thighs to your knees. Your arousal running down your legs now unrestrained by fabric. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips at the same moment his finger runs the along your slit.
Gods above, you moan.
Loud and unashamed into the night air.
His finger teases your entrance. Circling once, twice as you feel the pad of his thumb press mercilessly against your swollen clit. Rubbing in small, tight circles that make your thighs quake and knees buckle. Valko pushes his finger inside you. Plunging into your wetness to the knuckle and curling deliciously until the tip of his finger touches that soft, spongy spot inside you that makes the edges of your vision blur. Already, you feel the coil of your release tighten in your lower abdomen. You will it to loosen. Begging your body to endure just a little more if only to make this last longer. And you don't embarrass yourself by coming undone but his fingers alone.
As if sensing what you need, Valko pulls his finger out almost entirely before plunging it in again and again. Repeating the motion over and over while holding you up by pinning his chest to yours against the tree. You are entirely at his mercy. His thumb still making those tight circles on your clit all the while. Your cunt spasms, muscles tightening around his finger as you marvel at the way he works you so thoroughly. His mouth by your ear fans hotly over the shell of your ear. Murmuring words of how tight and wet you are. How good your cunt feels milking his finger in the exact way it will when he's buried inside you properly. His cock twitches in your hand. Reminding you that your hold has gone still and limp around him. You squeeze ever so gently, pulling a whimper from him.
His whimper is sweet music to your ears and you yearn to hear it again. You squeeze him once more, running your thumb along the vein that spans the length of his shaft. His hips shift, pressing himself more firmly into the palm of your hand. It is then that you realize that his cock has a knot at the base of his shaft. This isn't your first sexual encounter. You know that there isn't supposed to be a knot there. However, you can't bring yourself to care nor question it. Not with the sweet, pleased whimpers you are pulling from his lips. Instead, your thumb gently glides over the tissue. Valko snarls in your ear.
He has had enough of this teasing. Taking you by the wrist and turning you to face the tree instead. His finger and thumb leaving you to feel empty and cold. Your cunt spasms in protest. But you have no time to whine as you thrust your ass firmly into his pelvis. Skin meeting skin as your cheek rubs harshly against the trees bark. It stings and bite at your skin and you hiss just as his palm smooths lovingly over the swell of your ass. Replaced by the harsh smack of his palm to your backside. You yelp, though if it is in pleasure or pain you cannot tell. You decide it is both.
You feel the head of his cock tease your entrance. Gliding up and down to coat in your slick and you whine. Bucking your ass against him in the hopes he will slide in. You are successful when he pushes in by only an inch and you sigh in relief. Valko lets out a low groan through his teeth. For a moment, you think he will punish you with another smack of your ass or pull out entirely to make you wait. But he doesn't and you are pleasantly surprised when he begins to move. Valko pushes forward, sliding all the way inside your sopping pussy to the hilt. Until he bottoms out inside you. To your utter delight he fits inside you perfectly. His hips now flush against your ass before he pulls out only to slam inside you. He lets out a low moan, echoing your own with every glide of his cock. His girth meeting the walls of your cunt with every push and pull has you keening. Your mouth seemingly unable to close as more and more moans of pleasure roll off your tongue.
You feel the swell of his cock just as your walls begin to spasm and tighten. Your impending release coming as one. He leans over your back, stroking your hair like a lover as he murmurs sweet, filthy things in your ear. Each word meant to bring you close to that delicious edge you both crave to meet.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs, "You're being such a good little thing."
You keen, bucking your ass into him again and again. The coil in your belly tightens unbearably. So tight it's near painful. His balls tighten, pulling up to meet his scrotum. You feel it just before he thrusts deeper inside you. Spilling his worth so completely you feel it leak out of your pussy at the same time your orgasm crashes over you with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The knot swells, bulging inside you to hold you there and you whimper as one before you both slump to the ground of the woods.