I’d come here alone and aching, certain magic wasn’t real and that my wants were too much for any mortal man.
For the first time in longer than I could remember, the hollow place inside me felt… full.
And as sleep tugged at the edges of my mind, one last reckless thought drifted through me.
If this was the price of summoning the ethereal and the damned, I would pay it every time.
About the Author
I write Irish Mythology based historical fantasy romance that's incredibly epic. It's fast-paced, full of male yearning, adventurous, and riddled with magic. I’m a playful person by nature, but my writing contains much more emotion than I’d normally outwardly show. I try to make my characters as authentic as possible, and draw inspiration from the people in my life. When I’m not reading or writing, I’m travelling, puzzling, watching Outlander, listening to Mumford & Sons, and raising two beautiful little girls with my husband.
Author Website:
https://www.eestarauthor.com/
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The Ones We Love
Ash Redd
Blurb
Hellsmouth Woods has always been dangerous.
Shiloh knew this even before she found herself lost, wandering in circles only to come back to the same lake. Just when she’s about to give in to isolation and hunger, a strange creature finds her.
Is it another woman out in the woods? Or is it something older, something more sinister?
Content Warning
biting, blood, body horror, eldritch terrors, emotional distress, dubious consent, grief, isolation, lost in the woods, paranormal sex, shadow play, stretching
The Ones We Love
I dip my toes into the frigid water, letting the chill work its way through my body. Dirt spirals off my feet, forming murky clouds in the otherwise clear lake. I’ve lost track of time, but if I had to guess, it’s been maybe a week. I have barely slept, spending most of each day walking in circles. No matter which direction I choose, all paths lead back here, to the lake. Not a single plane has flown overhead, not a solitary hiker passed by. Every night ends the same way the morning began—just me and the wilderness.
I draw in a breath, air expanding my lungs until they ache, and then I scream. Birds shoot from the trees, scattering as my cry echoes across the watery abyss. They’re the only ones who hear me. No one comes running to my rescue. No search team barges through the trees, chattering excitedly about finding me alive. Maybe no one’s looking. I have to consider the possibility, becausewhy would they?
Before I packed a bag for my trip into the mountains of Hellsmouth Woods, I turned off my phone, setting it neatly on my nightstand without a message or call to anyone. In that moment, I didn’t want them to find me—or remind me of thelingering dread waiting for me in my empty home. When I close my eyes, I can still hear the door slamming behind Charlotte. Of the few people who might wonder where I am, she’s definitely not one.
“We always hurt the ones we love,” I tell the trees, using the same excuse as my final words to her. “I always hurt the ones I love.”
The sun dips below the horizon, casting a deep orange glow that burns across the sky. The temperature will drop soon too. I need to build a fire before the cold sets in, but my legs protest any attempt to stand. Despite knowing better, I sit a little longer, watching the last shred of daylight fade away. I nod as I try to stay awake, but my head snaps to attention as a shadow appears from the trees across the way. I blink, trying to bring the figure into focus. There’s a femininity to its movements, a gracefulness, but its body is too long, too thin to be human. Antlers stretch from where its head should be, but deer don’t walk on two legs. The shadow spins over the shoreline like it’s dancing to a melody I can’t hear. Maybe if I close my eyes, I’ll hear the song too, but when I open them again, the figure is gone.
My stomach heaves, juices sloshing around until I’m nauseous, reminding me I haven’t eaten yet today. I shuffle back to my campsite, grabbing my backpack before sitting on a fallen tree trunk. There’s not much left of my meager supplies besides a half-eaten protein bar I’ve been portioning, the pieces growing smaller each day. I break off a tiny piece with my teeth, letting the chewy glob roll around my mouth like I can fool myself into thinking it’s more. The morsel scratches my dry throat before hitting my gut like a stone. My stomach growls at the pathetic offering.
When I’m sure my body won’t reject what little I’ve given it, I slide down the tree trunk, sighing as my sore tailbone hits the ground. I’m fairly confident it’s broken after the fall I tookoff the trail, the reason I wound up lost to begin with. It’s just another problem I haven’t tried to deal with. Like most things, I’m hoping if I ignore the issue entirely, it will cease to exist—like constantly bickering with Charlotte.
My eyelids sink like lead weights, but I don’t fight them. I can’t decide whether I’m unwilling or unable to keep them open, but the outcome is the same.One night without a fire will be fine, I convince myself as I curl into a ball in the dirt.
“Shiloh.”
My name comes like static, as though it’s breaking through the white noise of a radio between stations. My eyes drift open only enough to see it’s still dark out.
“Shiloh.”
