Lured From the Path

As a nature photographer, David is confident
he can handle anything he finds in the Polish woods at night, in
spite of an old man’s crazy story about the women who wait deep
within the forest, looking to steal a man’s soul.

But then he’s lured from the path, where he
meets Willa, the embodiment of all his fantasies. When she begs for
his help, David instantly agrees to give it, his thoughts too
jumbled to wonder why the beautiful creature is so deep in the
forest, naked and alone.

After the most erotic night of his life,
David knows he is lucky to be alive, but he can’t get Willa out of
his mind. He’s addicted, obsessed and determined to find her again,
but returning to the forest means David will be punished for his
infatuation. Unless Willa agrees to keep him by her side
forever.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to
actual places, events or people, either living or dead, is purely
coincidental. Literary license has been taken resulting in an
amalgamation of various Vila mythologies. This story contains
sexually explicit material intended only for mature audiences over
the age of eighteen.

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are
welcome to share it far and wide for non-commercial use so long as
the book remains in its complete original form.

David checked the camera hanging around his
neck and surveyed the inn’s taproom. It was a charming place, if
the visitor had a thing for medieval Polish décor. He doubted the
place was that old, but it was scenic.

The occupants of the room were just as
interesting as the furnishings. A grizzled group of men, a couple
sporting matching Goth looks, a cheerful old man waving at him from
a corner table. Curiosity caught by the old man’s urgency, David
walked over, taking the offered seat.

Blue eyes dancing with interest slid over his
face. The old man proved himself sharper than David expected. “You
are American, yes?”

“Yes.” David stifled a smile at the eagerness
in the man’s voice. “How did you know?”

“You have good Polish,” the man said, “but
not good enough to keep my ears from hearing the difference.”

David snorted. “My accent gave me away, did
it?”

The man grunted an agreement as he leaned
forward to brace his elbow on the scarred tabletop. “What brings
you to Poland? What brings you here, to our tiny village?”

“I’m a wildlife photographer.” David lifted
the camera. “I’m here to take some pictures of the nocturnal
animals for a book that-”

“Nocturnal
. You want the pictures of the night
creatures?” The man sat back in his chair, his face growing pale
before a splash of red coated his cheeks. “Here? In the
forest?”

“Yes.”

“No, sir. You mustn’t. You are just a
traveler, yes? So I will help you.”

“You know of some good places to wait?” David
grinned. The locals always knew the best spots.

“No.” The old man’s brows lowered,
emphasizing the seriousness of his thoughts. “I will tell you to
stay out of the forest completely. It’s not safe. Especially at
night.”

David sighed. He’d traveled to many different
places all over the world. This wasn’t the first time he’d met
someone who was utterly convinced the American couldn’t handle
himself. Fear of the dark and creatures with sharp teeth was etched
onto the human psyche, and everyone was convinced that their night
was darker, their animals more vicious, than anywhere else.
Visitors would surely die from their lack of knowledge of the
area.

“I appreciate the warning,” David said, “but
I’m used to being by myself in the forest. I can take care of
myself.”

The old man was stubborn. “Not here.”

“Henryk!” The bartender materialized at the
table, his bushy gray brows beetled at the other man. “No scaring
my guests!”

“But he wants to go into the forest.” Henryk
was mutinous. David almost laughed out loud, but didn’t want to
offend the man who was so convinced he was helping.

“I know.” The bartender rolled his eyes and
looked at David. “Forgive my friend. He’s telling you the old
nonsense our mothers would tell the children. Scary stories to keep
the little ones out of trouble. He is an old man now, but this
one…ah, he still believes.”

David eyed the empty glass at Henryk’s elbow.
“Or you served him one too many.”

“I’ve seen them!” The old man turned to
David, pleading his case with fanatical eyes. “There are women in
these forests. Beautiful women. Dangerous women who will steal your
soul, young American.”

David rose from the table, casting a glance
out the window and judging the time to be right. The sun was nearly
gone. “I’m not here for the women, sir. Just the wolves and
owls.”

“The wolves are protected here,” the
bartender warned, “but they stay deep in the woods. You will take
care to not get in their way because there will be no help for you
if they attack.”

“The wolves and the women!” Henryk jumped to
his feet, arms waving wildly even as he lowered his voice to a
dramatic hiss. “They will sing to you, dance with you. And then
they will steal the breath from your lungs and leave you to a cold
death in the forest!”

The bartender snorted. “Nonsense. My American
friend, take the trail from just at the back here. Stay on it until
you come to a small river, cross it and take the left turn on the
path. You will find many animals nearer to the pond down that
way.”

“No!” Henryk jolted forward, clutching at
David’s sleeve. “You must not.”

David jerked away from the old man, not
bothering to hide his impatience. “Unless the women are gun-toting
murderers, I don’t think I’ll have a problem. Thank you for the
warning, sir, and have a good life.”

The man’s mouth worked, his face mottled with
color. David was halfway to the door when he called out, “Only the
dawn can save you!
The dawn
, young American.”

“Henryk!” the bartender barked.

Shaking his head at the foolishness of old
men, David shouldered his way out of the inn, and jogged into the
woods.

He shifted slowly, not wanting to disturb any
animals that may be closing in on the pond. David had waited
patiently for hours, but it hadn’t been a great night. There were
few things moving through the dark woods.

He stood to scan his surroundings. A glimmer
of silver moonlight danced on the surface of the tranquil pond
nestled between thick stands of trees boasting a mixture of old
growth and young saplings. He breathed in the rich smells of earth,
pine and a subtle floral scent that teased his nose. The silence
was weighted, as if the forest held its breath, watching him.

An explosion of white broke the stillness,
close enough to stir his hair. David ducked, covering his head as
he grabbed for his camera. He staggered, fighting for balance, his
finger depressing the button before he could aim the lens. Feathers
brushed his cheek, a cool whisper against his skin. Through the
heavy thud of his heart, he heard the faint sound of flapping
wings.

And then the silence returned.

“A swan?” His words were just a breath
against the dense night.

The notion took hold of him. Still gripping
his camera, he spun. Searching the darkness, straining to catch
even a hint of bright color, his eyes narrowed and his muscles
locked, freezing him on the bank of the pond. He held his breath,
waiting, listening.

A streak of white flashed in the distance.
Immediately, David moved after it. His feet made little noise as he
followed an overgrown game path until it came to an abrupt end.

He stared at the tangled mess of green that
obscured the trail. Crouching, David examined the ground, peering
through the small, waxy leaves of a plant he didn’t recognize.
Reaching out carefully, he brushed his fingers over the fronds,
surprised at their delicacy.

He was forced to backtrack to a wider portion
of the trail. Glancing around again, he spied a way forward. Slowly
he moved along the new path, cautiously placing his feet to avoid
the roots that rose up to trip him.

He was rewarded with another flash of white
through the trees.

The forest grew denser around him. The pines
leaned toward him, snagging on his shirt, pulling at his hair. A
soft shiver worked down his spine as he pushed through the tight
confines, adrenaline heating his blood. His imagination ran riot;
it was almost as if the trees were trying to hold him back, block
his progress.

But he
would
not
fail to find the swan. Excitement
sizzled in his skull at the discovery. He’d never seen one fly
through a forest at night and he was determined to capture its
image for his book.

Holding tight to his goal, he made his way
deeper into the woods. Mist rose, swirling along the ground before
rising to his calves, making the path treacherous. His feet slipped
on loose rocks and twigs, his ankles wobbled in small holes.

The trees became twisted. They bent toward
the ground, tangled their arms together with their brethren, curved
their trunks around each other in silent companionship. Their bark
was rough and rutted, running with sap that gleamed dully in the
dim light.

Laughter tinkled through the gloom,
unexpected and beautiful, like small bells. A melody drifted
through the woods to wrap David’s senses in wonderment. An
accompanying flash of white drew him on. He held his camera at the
ready, but uncertainty filled him.

Bushes rustled as he stepped into a small,
circular clearing. Here, the moon was brighter, though its time was
growing short and its light wasn’t strong. It cast a gentle silver
glow over everything so, as his eyes followed the shaking of the
underbrush, he had no trouble seeing the woman’s face peering past
a tree.

She had wide-set eyes over high cheekbones.
Her face was a perfect oval, topped with a long fall of hair the
shade of warm honey. Her rosebud lips were full, sending wicked
fantasies streaking though his mind. She was exquisitely delicate,
lushly sensual.

“Hello?” David took another step forward, but
she pulled back behind a sticky pine.

Her face appeared on the other side of the
trunk. She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze traveling from
his head to his toes. She smiled a sweet smile.

“You are not from here.”

His stomach clenched at the beauty of her
voice, his ears demanded he respond so she would keep talking. “No.
I’m American.”

She frowned, shrugged. “You speak like me,
but you are not from here.”

“My grandfather is Polish.”

Her eyes went dewy and her lips molded into a
pout. “Can you help me?”

David stepped forward. “Are you hurt?
Lost?”

“Please, come with me. I’ll show you.”

He studied her delicate features, her unlined
cheeks, the wide-eyed innocence tempting him. She beckoned but he
hesitated. “How old are you?”

She smiled. “Old.”

He shook his head. “Who are you? What’s your
name?”

“You can call me…Willa.”

She stepped back from the tree into a swath
of moonlight. It coasted over her body with a loving touch,
illuminating the perfection of her naked flesh, her honey hair.
David looked his fill but held still, grabbing for his control.

She was small-framed, but nearly as tall as
him. Her long legs molded into gorgeously curved hips, flaring from
an impossibly tiny waist. Her torso was delicate, nearly too small
to hold her large breasts, perfectly placed and tipped with nipples
of the deepest red.

She was his fantasy, come to life.

“Where are your clothes?”

She waved a long arm toward the dark forest
behind her. “There. Please come.” She edged back into the tree
line.

Doubts crowded his thoughts, but they were
muted, disconnected. She was in need, a pretty woman, naked and
alone in the woods. He’d been warned there would be little help
this deep in the forest. Who knew how long she’d been waiting for
assistance?

She hummed a tune that melded seamlessly into
the gentle breeze stroking over David’s arms. The waning moon
highlighted the plea in her eyes as she lifted a hand to beckon him
again. He followed.