Page 67 of Blood of the Fairest

Oh, balls. I see I have a hopeless romantic on my hands.

I doubt the powerful beings of this world brought me here just for a fucked-up meet-cute with a terrifying beast of a man via abduction and torture. But before I can tell Snow White that, there's a strong knock on the door of the solar.

"Verena?" Wulf's resonant voice calls.

"Speak of the fucking devil," I grumble.

Snow gets a little round-eyed at my language, but whispers excitedly, "See? He was looking for you. Is that not romantic?"

"We really need to raise your bar for what constitutes romance."

As I move toward the door, reaching for the handle, Eris calls out in a confusingly now-chipper tone.

"About that thing you should know, Fairest. The Huntsman was just taking care of a little pest and may have gotten nicked by a knife⁠—"

His voice and everything else in the world cut out when the door swings open and a mouthwatering aroma hits me so hard, I have to grip the door to stay upright as the rest of the world sways.

Blackberries and wild mint.

Invigorating, tart, brisk, sweet…

Irresistible.

Wulf is saying something to me, his ice-colored gaze gentle on my face.

But all I can look at is the red-stained bandage wrapped around one of his thick forearms. A visceral need overtakes my senses, wrenching control from me and making my teeth ache—until, all at once, I'm grabbing the Huntsman by his arm and towing him away from the solar.

The thirst is excruciating. It burns me from the inside out.

I can't think. I can only march down a set of stairs and through another corridor, desperate to find somewhere we won't be spotted.

The other blood I've smelled in this world seems laughable now. That was like hearing the distant rumblings of thunder compared to getting struck by a fucking bolt of lightning.

"Verena?" I hear the Huntsman ask from what feels like far away.

I spy an alcove off this hallway. It offers some privacy, but at this point, I almost don't even fucking care anymore.

I pull the Huntsman into it—and by pull, I mean Wulf follows because I'm pretty sure I could get a running start charging at this man and still not knock him over if he didn't want it.

Once we're under the arched stone beside a shadowed window, I grip the edge of the bandage around his arm. Mint and blackberries coalesce around me, potent and bold as my universe seems to zero in on the bloodied bandage.

It takes three tries to swallow. I barely recognize my voice as I pull hard on the thin fabric.

"Take this off."

Wulf obeys at once, starting to carefully unravel the bandages with his other hand.

Damn it, of course, he's doing as I say. I almost forgot again that he has to obey everything I tell him.

Realizing how easily I could abuse that power, I reach out to stop his hands, squeezing my eyes shut as I fight the growing urge.

"Stop. Stop. You shouldn't do that," I rasp.

"Why?"

Because I don't want to want this.

But I need it. I'm on fire, and he smells so fucking delicious.