My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

After several tense moments of Graeme listening to something August couldn't detect, his body finally relaxed and he turned to look at her in his arms.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Just kids," he sighed. Once he realized the position she was in against him, his eyes turned deeper and searching, and she found herself unable to look away. His dark skin and hair, the dips between his eyebrows that could so quickly harden with anger or concern, the beard that made rugged and yet soft the strong, angular jaw underneath.

She wanted to trace every line of him again, feel every angle. Something in her chest burned and began to sink deliciously through her abdomen, sending sparks of recognition to every inch where they aligned. A light groan rumbled in Graeme's chest as if he could feel it, too.

August's lips had parted slightly as she let out the breath she was holding. Her eyes scanned his face, and he felt every sweep of her gaze as if she was trailing her fingers along with it. Her scent became richer, thicker—curling around him and exciting every muscle, bringing to his acute awareness every place their bodies touched.

His jaw clenched with restraint as he imagined himself pinning her against this tree and tasting every delicious part of her. But her mouth was already open, small puffs of her breath escaping against him, and he bowed to meet it—brushing lightly against her lips and feeling her soften further in his arms.

Just then a giggle erupted behind them, and August pulled away to see a young girl with long dark hair watching them.

"Oh, hi there!" August smiled warmly, and Graeme set her down on her feet, cursing under his breath. "What's your name?"

"Isabel," the little girl replied. She looked to be about five.

"Hi Isabel, I'm August," August bent down to meet the girl's height.

"That's a funny name," the little girl giggled.

August smiled. "It sure is, isn't it? You have a beautiful name."

"Thank you," the girl turned shy, hiding behind her hands.

"You better run along to your parents, Isabel," Graeme called behind August.

The little girl looked at Graeme and ran away with giggles trailing behind her. August noticed a boy who had been hiding behind a fallen tree stand up and run after her as he laughed, too, having successfully spied on the adults.

"Will they be okay?" August turned to give Graeme a concerned look.

"We're close to the field. I'm sure they wandered from there," he replied. "It's very safe for kids here."

Sure enough, row after row of sunflowers greeted them as Graeme and August emerged around a bend in the small path they had been on. A few families appeared to be visiting the field, as August heard more children laughing in the distance.

"I can't believe this is here. It's beautiful. I wish I had my camera," she said as her and Graeme walked around holding hands under the sun, which was free to shine in its fullness here for its namesake flowers to follow its path.

"We can come back as many times as you want," Graeme replied. "What kinds of things do you photograph? Besides sunflowers."

"Everything. Well, everyday things that aren't as ordinary as we would imagine at first glance," she smiled at him before looking back to the field. "I usually take my camera with me everywhere, because it's those times when you least expect it that you see something extraordinary."

"We don't have a lot of that around here," Graeme said, thinking now of the images he had seen pervade so much of the human world—particularly online.

"A lot of what?" August asked.

"Just… pictures," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Really?" her eyes went wide. He nodded, his eyes crinkling in amusement as he saw the surprise in hers.

"What makes your camera so much different than what's available on phones these days?"

"Oh, well there's a huge difference," she laughed. "I don't even know where to begin. Cameras on smart phones have gotten incredibly good, but they don't even compare. I was so excited when I finally got my full frame camera. I love it. I'll have to show you," she squeezed his hand.

With just that action of her hand tightening around his affectionately, it was as if all the tension from that morning lifted from his shoulders up into the golden light of the sunflower field and burned away. As August became animated discussing her love of photography, he saw her light up. It was precious to her, even if he didn't understand it.

"Why aren't there pictures here?" she asked, her head tilting curiously.

Graeme's eyebrows dipped as he thought about it. "I'm not sure. I guess it doesn't really occur to us to capture things or moments that way. We just… live them," he shrugged.

"Have you ever wished you had a picture of Maggie?" August asked because she had not only seen but had also felt the intensity of how the woman affected Graeme. It was odd being able to recall some of Graeme's memories now as her own—having witnessed Maggie in Graeme's mind rather than having a photo in front of her for reference.

Graeme paused his steps and turned to face August, his hand still holding hers. "When I think of Maggie—when I remember her," he gulped, and she saw guilt feather the muscles of his face, pulling his eyes down and away, "she is fully with me in those moments. I don't need a picture. I have her always in my memory. Alive. Joyful. Kind. A picture can't compare to it."

August nodded and hummed her understanding. Once they began walking again, with a teasing smile she said, "well… you haven't seen my photos," and she swung his arm playfully.

"Will your photographs change my mind?" he chuckled.

She shrugged her shoulders and then laughed. "I doubt it, but you never know."

She had been so confident, he realized, but then something happened. Graeme studied her curiously wondering what it was. "Why?" he asked quietly before he realized the word had left him.

"Why what?"

"Why do you doubt it?"

August stopped swinging his hand in hers and stared at him. "What?" the question coming out as a breathy laugh.

"Why would you doubt your ability to sway me?" he asked, his voice so deliciously deep that it teased something within her—as if his depth was calling to hers, and hers acknowledged it. "You've already made me realize things just by being… you," he breathed, looking at the full bottom lip of hers that had dropped. "I don't doubt that what you love will change things in me as well."

While August remained lost for words in that depth that Graeme had teased open, he tugged her further along into the sunflowers. After some time walking in comfortable silence, August noticed how all the bright yellow faces towering above them were at an angle indicating the late afternoon hour. Her legs, which had started to feel weak beneath her some time ago, grew weaker, and she sighed. Apparently the three weeks of lost time had affected her strength after all.

"I'm tired," she confessed, looking up at Graeme apologetically. He could see how her eyelids had become heavy.

"Let's head back," he agreed and scooped her up into his arms before she could object. "We'll take it slow this time," he added quietly.

August was so tired. More tired than she could remember ever being before, and the comfort of Graeme had her giving in to the weight pulling down on her eyes. She rested her head against his shoulder and let his movements lull her to sleep on the way.

It was dark in the treehouse when August awoke to find herself in bed with Graeme's arm around her waist.. His breath was soft and even against the pillow behind her, and she felt herself lulled back to sleep listening to it and feeling the comfort of his body cuddled against her.