My jaw drops a little. I didn’t even think about how old Gillia might be. Going by looks alone, I would have guessed she was in her thirties, like me. Not that I have many dryad references to compare her to. “Wow.”
“It’s been a wonderful experience being here, in this section of the wilderness, learning to understand all the creatures.”
“And are you the only…dryad?” I still have trouble letting myself say the word aloud.
“In the forest? No. There are many, but we are independent and stick to our own territory. Of course, we communicate with each other, share knowledge and threats, but we don’t socialize. We can’t stray more than a mile or two from our bound trees, so we rarely see each other.”
“That must be lonely.” I can’t help but think about her alone in her tree, walking through the forest. She has the rest of the forest creatures, but it’s not the same. A tug in my chest reminds me I’ll be leaving her soon. At some point, she’ll expect me to leave and go back to my everyday life. The thought makesme nauseous, something deep inside me pushing back at the thought.
“Not lonely,” she says slowly. “I have all the plants and animals here, and they talk to me, and I talk to them.”
Gillia pauses, as though she’s trying to find the right words. “It is not the same as this.” She gestures between the two of us.
I swallow hard, knowing exactly what she means. This bond, whatever it is, is special. Something I already know I’ll never be able to replicate. Leaving her is going to destroy me in ways I can’t begin to describe.
My life is so different from hers in many ways, but also so similar. I live alone in a small cabin for much of the year, and of course, I have people to talk to, check-ins, and a computer and a phone that work—but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as having a connection with someone—a deep connection. It’s something I didn’t know that I needed or even wanted until I met Gillia. Now, after only a few days, I can’t imagine ever going back.
I nod my understanding, but it doesn’t seem like enough. Instead, I move closer, letting the water propel me into her arms.
I chuckle when I land on her lap, straddling her thighs, our bodies pressed together. I can’t resist taking the opportunity to kiss her. I intend for it to be gentle—a heartfelt moment to let her know the feeling is mutual. The loneliness. The way our souls connect. I can’t describe any of it, at least not in words. That’s what I intended to try to say with a chaste kiss, but almost immediately, she devours me. It’s all I can do to keep up with the frenzied pace of her lips against mine.
Our tongues tangle together, a constant dance to be as close as possible. I can’t help the way my body presses against hers, needing to sense our connection across every inch of my being.
As quickly as this fervor came on, she pulls away, leaving me gasping for air. “Not here,” she says before dropping her voice. “Too many eyes.”
Now that I’m thinking about it, that strange sensation I sometimes get when I’m in the wilderness comes over me. A feeling I’m being watched by someone, even if I can’t place it. Having all those little niggling feelings confirmed is both affirming and a little creepy. Especially with us in such a compromising position. I’m anxious for the forest to accept me, not as one of their own, but as someone they could get used to. The last thing I need is for them to see me grinding against their dryad.
“If you’re ready, we could head back.”
“I’m ready,” I confirm. As Gillia steps out of the spring, water running off her gorgeous body, I remember I need to get dressed again.
While the forest watches.
I swallow hard against the knot forming in my throat. Well then, no time like the present.
Chapter
Seven
GILLIA
As we arrive back at my tree, there are two things I’m certain about.
First, the forest has shifted its feelings toward my forest ranger. All the previous chatter was about me bending the rules, begging me to send Sadie away, and not to interfere in the normal course of business, has quieted. In the moments when we were out on our adventure, the chatter changed to a congratulatory tone, welcoming Sadie into the life of the forest.
Which means others know the second thing currently swirling around in my mind. Sadie is my mate. I knew before, but now there isn’t a single doubt in my mind. The question is what I’m going to do about it.
A problem I intend to work on after I attend to our unfinished business. As the tree parts for us to enter, I sweep Sadie into my arms and carry her inside. She squeals, protesting that she’s more than capable of walking. I’m not disagreeing, but I’ll get what I desire faster this way.
I drop her down onto the bed, careful not to hurt her. The way she looks up to me, with a hungry expression on her face, says everything I need to know. I’ve been waiting all day for this opportunity to finally taste my mate. Nothing is standing in my way.
“Remove your clothes,” I say. “Please.”
In all this time, I hadn’t seen her naked before we were at the spring. When we’ve been in bed together, she’s kept at least a few garments on. I don’t mind being patient; after two hundred years, I’ve become an expert at it, but now I don’t want to wait any longer. My primal urges are screaming at me to take what is mine. While I’d never do that without her consent, her mannerisms indicate that she’s on board with this activity.
Sadie rushes to follow my request, tossing her clothing aside and letting them fall to the ground. I can’t wait to taste her, to feel her come against my tongue. It’s been haunting my dreams, especially when she’s sleeping on top of me, sprawled out and clinging to me like a squirrel afraid of falling from the branch.
I join her in bed, stretching out next to where she’s stripping off the final garments.
