Page 2 of Sasquatch Love Spell

“Timber!” that same voice called out.

Aoife looked up to see a tall birch falling, right down in front of her.

It hit the ground with a crunch and there was a puff of leaves stirred up from the detritus on the forest floor.

So much for a tranquil moment.

“What in bloody hell?” she cursed, standing up.

There was a crash and she looked up to see a figure, at least seven feet or more, come through the brush. He was covered in hair, his arms, chest, hands, face, and he had a mane of flowing brown hair that was tied back. Under the hair, she could see rippling muscles. His hands were huge and the axe he carried looked ridiculously small. The only human clothes he had on him were a pair of tight jeans that left nothing to the imagination.

If she didn’t know better, she’d say she was staring at a bigfoot, because he had many of the forest ape’s features, but his face was decidedly softer and more humanlike. His eyes were amber colored, and the beard on his face was neatly trimmed.

Those amber eyes just focused on her, surprised at her presence, but then there was a flash and his nostrils flared as if he was drinking in her scent. She knew for a fact that Sasquatches were notorious womanizers.

There were old myths of them carrying off women into the forests.

They weren’t a danger, just lotharios, and none of those kidnapped women had come back for a reason. When they mated, they mated for life and kept those women extremely, extremely happy. It was said the pheromones they put out were like an intoxicating love spell. Looking this Sasquatch up and down, she wondered exactly what it would be like to be ravaged by him.

A little zing of delight coursed through her at the thought. Sex was always used for ritual or exchanges of power. It never had meaning, but looking at this burly yeti woodsman sent heat straight to her core.

It would be so amazing to choose a partner and have sex for fun.

For pleasure.

Not ritual.

“I’m sorry,” he said, speaking finally. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“It’s okay,” Aoife replied. “I was just stopping to rest my feet. I’m on my way to Thunder Bay.”

“You’re a long way from Thunder Bay.”

“I got off the train in White River.”

Why was she telling this Sasquatch where she was going? And why did she feel like she could trust him?

Maybe it’s that love spell? Maybe there was a truth to it?

Her grandmother said a love spell would mean you couldn’t lie to one another, and your body burned for whoever it was cast for, but a Sasquatch love spell? She didn’t know it worked. She doubted it worked this fast. And then she had a hideous thought. What if the Order had cast one on her so she’d be more compliant to fuck Prince Ivar? And now it was kicking in for this bigfoot?

There was something poetic about that kind of justice. She was supposed to get all hot and bothered for an elf, instead it was this hairy, seven-foot Sasquatch who made her pussy ache with need.

Son of a bitch.

He cocked an eyebrow on his slightly larger brow ridge. “White River is one hundred kilometers away.”

“I move fast.” Another reason why banshees were thought to be good assassins. They were silent and they were quick.

“You’re not human, obviously,” he stated.

“Not fully. Half.”

“I thought as much. We don’t get many visitors in these woods.” He frowned. “And if you were human, I would be in bigtrouble for talking to you. It’s against realm laws for my kind to associate with humans. Especially females.”

Her stomach sank. She knew how regulated Sasquatch were. They were considered the lowest of the low. She felt bad for him, but she didn’t have time to shoot the shit with him.

She stood quickly. “I don’t mean to be…”