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“But you are different. I meant Harold and his friends.”
Along with any of the others who’d come after him over the years.
“All right.” She sighed and let her head rest against his shoulder. “I’m sure I should say I can walk, but I really don’t think I can. Are you sure it isn’t a problem to carry me?”
“I could carry you all night,” he said truthfully. “Try and rest.”
She nodded and a short while later, the soft rhythm of her breathing indicated that she’d fall asleep in his arms. Her trust was immensely gratifying, but carrying her quickly proved to be a delightful torture. Her slight weight didn’t bother him, but her soft body moving against him as he walked sent his mind spinning in increasingly erotic directions, his imagination making up for what he lacked in experience.
Even though his cock ached painfully as he moved deeper into the swamp, he’d never been happier.
CHAPTER 5
Rorie woke up warm and comfortable, wrapped in a soft, woven sheet that smelled faintly of something she couldn’t quite identify, something pleasant and aromatic. A small candle sat in the center of the table next to her bed, casting a comforting glow over her surroundings. Sturdy wooden posts formed the corners of a large room with woven screens hung between them, most of them open to the night.
The screens to her left were closed, but the ones in front of her were open to reveal a wide porch with a massive figure rocking quietly in an enormous rocking chair formed from gnarled branches polished to a soft gleam. Only the top of his head was visible, the vines still obvious but woven into what appeared to be actual hair - dark golden braids that caught the light from her candle.
Memories rushed over her as she sat up - the terrible scene at Harold’s house, the desperate flight through the swamp. And Marsh.
He peered around the corner of the chair and she realized absently that she must have spoken his name out loud, but she was too shocked to speak. With the hair and vines pulled back, his face was clearly visible - and shockingly handsome. The same high cheekbones and sharply angled jaw she’d glimpsed before, along with a straight nose and a generous mouth. His chin was more pointed than normal, as were his ears, but other than that his features looked almost entirely human - except they appeared to be carved from wood in the same shades of brown and gold and green that covered the rest of his skin.
He suddenly looked away, reaching up to release his hair, and it suddenly occurred to her that she’d been staring at him far too long.
“Don’t do that,” she said quickly. “I like being able to see your face.”
He shot her a shocked look and she realized that although his face appeared to be carved out of wood, it reflected his emotions as well as a human face.
“You don’t mind?”
“I really don’t. Is this your house?”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, a bed platform actually, covered with more moss, soft and comfortable against her bare legs. Bare legs? She looked down in a quick spurt of panic and discovered that her jeans were gone. At least her panties and dirty tank top were still in place.
“Where are my jeans?” she squeaked.
That definitely looked like embarrassment on his face.
“They were so cold and wet that I thought it best to remove them. I washed them and hung them up to dry,” he added quickly, and she followed his finger to where her jeans were suspended from a line running across the far end of the porch.
Not wearing them made her feel surprisingly vulnerable, even though her underwear was at least as modest as most swimsuits - and considerably more modest than a lot of them.
“Do you have something else I can wear?” she asked, tugging nervously at the sheet. “I know nothing dries quickly when it’s this humid.”
“I can probably hurry it along,” he said as he rose. “But let me see if I have an alternative.”
He came towards her and she had to clench her fists to keep from flinching. Damn he was big, appearing even larger in the enclosed space despite the height of the ceiling. If the much smaller Harold had been able to do so much damage, how much could Marsh inflict?
He came to an abrupt halt, lowering his head and hunching forward. He was trying to make himself smaller, she realized as he gave her an uncertain look.
“I mean you no harm, little bird.”
“I… I believe you.”
At least, mostly.
“I have some other clothing in the storage box,” he said, still not moving. “If you would rather look for yourself…”
“No, it’s all right. Really.”
