Chapter 15: Primordial instincts

****James

“There's a small clearing there.” he pointed with his slender hand, passing me as we entered the forest.

A well-worn path forked north, but Brooke directed me west, where a natural arch of low-hanging branches overlooked a hill filled with white flowers.

Where we were, I could see a crevasse, but it was too far away to pose any danger to her. I followed her patiently, trying to sync my steps with her speed, and quickly scanned the area around us.

We were far from my territory, but it was not uncommon for someone from the pack to go almost to the valley to hunt humans.

I took the heavy backpack off my shoulders and placed it against a log before heading to the center of the clearing for a 360° view; Alfred, a wolf who had just finished training, had been following us curiously for ten minutes, careful not to be noticed by Brooke.

I had given him a few glances, just to make him understand that I had sensed his presence, and that's why he didn't come any closer, simply standing to the side to observe what we were doing.

“I'm going to take some photos to get an overview of the lighting and establish the shooting range.” I explained to Brooke.

I took some photos, often changing angles to understand which exposure was ideal and peering at the little girl through the lens. While waiting for me to finish, she braided some flowers, constructing a crown that she placed on top of her head.

She was unusually beautiful: pure, innocent, unaware of how much the slightest smile of hers represented an attack on a man's hormonal stability.

I concentrated and ran towards her, capturing her simple surprise as a white butterfly flew boldly in front of her face.

In the moments when she thought I was distracted by other things, she automatically stopped being weird, letting her true self come out and showing me a part of her character that she tried to keep hidden from everyone. Unlike female werewolves, she was completely defenseless, a fragile being who could not survive in that forest for more than two days at a time; incapable of looking for food, of recognizing the signs of nature, so clumsy that on more than one occasion I found myself ready to throw myself at her to catch her just in time, before she tripped or collided with a branch.

“Are you done playing?” I said, lowering the lens.

Her eyes wandered around the clearing until she found me and, as always, she blushed.

“These flowers are wonderful.” she smiled, clumsily removing the crown. “We could use them to decorate the scene.”

“Not only do they look beautiful, but they also smell good.”

He brought his nose close to the petals and inhaled a few times. Finally he frowned. “They don't know anything.”

“Everything has its own smell. Flowers, objects, wind, women.” I approached her from behind, close, but without touching her. “Close your eyes and empty your mind. Try to focus on one detail at a time. The forest is a whole made possible by millions of elements connected to each other.”

The girl lowered her eyelids and looked up, seeking the warmth of some rays of sunlight.

I leaned over to whisper in her ear and not interfere with the sounds of nature: “Every sound corresponds to a life. Every smell, if stimulated by movement, reveals the presence of something. It may seem like the smell of these flowers is light, but if you know how to separate it from other aromas you will recognize it for the rest of your life. It will be at this point that it will be linked to a memory or an emotion. And it will always be at that moment that you will be able to recognize it even among thousands of other flowers.”

I waited a few seconds, giving him time to learn to distinguish the intricate connection of sounds and fragrances that populated my forest. Out of the corner of my eye I monitored the various changes occurring on her face, dotted with small freckles that could only be seen up close.

“I hear a lot of things, Mr. Farrow. she whispered, her brow furrowed in an effort to concentrate.”

“Focus on one thing at a time. What do you feel most?”

“I feel her behind me.” he replied quickly and his cheeks turned pink.

The fact that she felt me before anything else made my breath catch in my throat. A smile escaped me, but I decided not to provoke her and forced myself to cover my mouth.

“The strong smell of musk.” Continuous. She thought for a moment and added: “And wet wood.”

“They are mixed in the air and yet you can distinguish them. The same goes for people.”

“In what sense?”

“When a woman joins a man, her aromas mix without canceling each other out. They are part of two distinct things that form one. If you pay attention, you can still recognize the women's fragrance, but it becomes much more difficult.”

“And truth!” She opened her eyes suddenly and turned around. I was surprised by this very obvious fact. “Men's smell is generally stronger.”

“It's logical, isn't it?” I knew that, being a virgin, she was unaware of how relationships worked, but it was difficult to believe that her degree of naivety prevented her from understanding what was obvious in nature. “It is the man's scent that prevails over the woman's to make everyone understand that it belongs to her.”

He pursed his lips defensively and turned his back to me again to put some distance between us.

“Shall we continue working?”

That this girl was different from a werewolf was easily established, but something in her attitude suggested to me that she knew how to distinguish herself, when necessary, even from human women. There was something about the way she moved that made my gaze gravitate toward her.

Her very naivety was a kind of spell that infiltrated my brain, turning it upside down, mixing everything I had felt up until now.

Everything about her attracted me; the way she chased away a fly that buzzed too close to her, how she lifted her boots when she felt the ground softer beneath her, when she opened her dark eyes wide when she saw a detail of the forest that she had missed.

It looked like she had never left the house until today. The world she was used to and where I had always lived represented for her a continuous source of surprises that were reflected on her face in an alternation of funny and astonished expressions.

“How did you manage to remain so pure?” I said mainly to myself. Either way, it wasn't quiet enough for her not to hear it.

However, she pretended not to understand my words. Out of embarrassment, she stumbled on the steps and the flower crown fell to the floor. She bent down to pick it up and a gust of wind lifted her hair, carrying her perfume to me.

I sniffed the air like a predator and clenched my fists to calm myself. On the one hand, being so close to her was a gamble, but on the other hand it helped me get used to it. The more I sniffed, the easier it became to silence the beast.

I raised the camera and captured her lips wide open in a muffled scream as she tried to remove a spider from her knee. I absolutely had to understand if her naivety was an act or if, on the contrary, it was real. I decided it was time to play and test. If she was faking, sooner or later she would be exposed.

“I'll take some photos for the brochures before I show you how to prepare the place. Can you help me?” I asked.

“What should I do?”

I calculated both the words and the tone to use well and shaped my voice to a spoonful of sugar: “Do you know how to hold it?”

As I expected, her cheeks were in danger of burning in reaction to this sentence full of double meanings. I held out the tripod to her and tilted my head, searching the toes of her boots for her eyes.

Once again I measured the words carefully, pronouncing them in a whisper: “Take it with both hands.”

Brooke took it without responding, stubborn about not looking me straight in the face. It was funny to see her embarrassed, but my intention was certainly not to mock her. I just wanted to understand if he was making fun of me or if, on the contrary, he was playing the good guy.

Understanding how she managed to reach the age of twenty-two without the rot of this world having at least partially stained her soul was almost unacceptable.

“Now slide your fingers along the shaft.” I continued.

The tripod shook under his loose grip. I quickly grabbed him, putting him back in place and placed my hand on top of his. I felt her fingers tremble and immediately tense up.

“Not like that. You have to raise your hand.” I explained persuasively, guiding his movements. “This way the rod will lengthen.”

She swallowed hard and her fingers twitched again. Her scent mixed with the more acrid smell of sweat and I realized that no, damn it, she wasn't acting. She understood the double meaning and also understood that I was doing it on purpose. Except she wasn't able to respond or manage the entire discussion. Only a completely pure woman could behave like this.

My heart rejoiced and I bit my lower lip to suppress a satisfied laugh.

“I promised to teach you everything, but I can't do that if you tremble as soon as I get close to you.” I provoked her, evil to the core.

Finally her pride returned and she overcame her shyness. “And I want to learn, Mr. Farrow, but I can't do it if you provoke me on purpose. Do you really need to be so close to me?”

“Yes.” I replied laconically.

“Can you explain why?”

“No.”

“It doesn't seem appropriate.” she declared, trying to move away.

I immediately compensated for the movement, mentally cursing his choice to escape from me. Obviously she couldn't know that any escape attempt on her part would do nothing but feed my instincts predatory red.

— Can you explain why? - I imitated.

And again she avoided the question. Everything that embarrassed her made her avoidant. And the more it was, the more excited I became.

Another gust of wind picked up her scent and I staggered back, holding the tripod. My groin spasmed and I closed my eyes just to be safe, sure they would soon turn red.

“The camera needs to be inserted into these two tracks.” I explained in a hoarse voice, just to keep my mind busy with something.

“Are you okay, Mr. Farrow?”

“Then you will have to secure it with these two screws.” I continued the explanation, swallowing air.

My lungs were gasping for oxygen, but I couldn't risk breathing in her scent. Not while she was so close. Not while the beast was about to win on all fronts. I focused all my attention on the sound of the leaves moving in the wind, on the buzzing of the bees that landed on the wreath of flowers, on the beat of my heart, on the moss that grew on the part of the trunks facing north, on the freshly sputtered flowers, on the pine cones. .

And then again, all over again. The leaves, the bees, the ticks, the moss, the flowers, the pine cones and Alfredo's leaves and paws...

Cum!

Dimitri tried to warn me how difficult it would be, but this was beyond all expectations.

I clenched my fists and risked breathing. The perfume was there, unchanged in its naive fragrance. He seemed to be mocking me. He circled around me, cruel in a perverse way, tempting me like never before.

However, it was the stillness of Brooke's fragrance that distracted me. If she hadn't changed, becoming more or less strong, it meant she remained motionless in her position, watching me as I fought the beast with my eyes closed.

I opened my eyes wide and the lack of any reaction on her part made me realize that her pupils hadn't turned red.

“Why don't you connect the camera?” I asked.

“I am waiting.” she replied haughtily.

What the hell...?

“What are you waiting for?”

“Let her move a little.” she continued this battle of wills undaunted.

I let her win and with a dramatic gesture of my arms I invited her to turn on the camera.

“Thanks.” she murmured.

I winked at her mischievously.

“Wait until you thank me. It 'sa long day.”