The stranger

"Autumn!" Mother’s voice brings me out of my book. "I need you to go gather more river berry leaves for my poultices."
"Go get it yourself." I mutter under my breath. "I was enjoying my new book." Heaving a sigh, I get up and grab my gathering gear.
"It’ll get dark soon, take some food and the lantern." She hands over a basket.
"Yes, Mother." I sigh. “I'm fifteen. I don't need you doing this to me, you know.” Going into the woods is a normal activity, and so is picking river berry leaves, but I take the basket anyways.
I grumble as I head out- gathering bag on my back, lantern in one hand, and food basket in the other.
As I get deeper into the woods, I hear a faint moaning sound- as if someone's in pain. I venture off the path, following the noise. A few seconds later, there’s a guy- collapsed at the foot of a tree. "Hey, excuse me... are you okay?" He’s kinda handsome. I think.
He moans.
Reaching out to touch him, he flinches upon contact. His skin is so soft. I try to prop him up from under his arms, but he resists my help. "Fine." I sit back on my haunches to observe him for a while. Hmm, nice bone structure. His lips... I wonder what- I shake the thoughts from my head before they get out of control. Facing reality, I ask "What are you even doing here, anyways?" Lighting a small fire, I watch the flames dance as I wait for an answer. "Are you hungry?" I produce the bread Mother packed, and some fruit preserves. Spreading the preserves onto the bread, I take a bite, hoping he will follow suit.
His eyelids flicker but he doesn’t open his eyes.
Putting down the knife, I finish my piece of bread, waiting to see if he will respond. "What's your name?" I ask.
His eyes open into slits.
Whoa... his eyes are gold. I think.
I realize he's glaring at me. "Come on, sit up and you can have some bread and fruit preserves." I'm trying to ignore his slitted glare. He looks even cuter when he’s mad. I realize.
He slowly sits up. Eyes opening fully, I see they're gold.
Your eyes are beautiful. I want to tell him.
He grabs my arm and yanks me closer to him, and his chin lands between my neck and shoulders. My head is on his chest. "Relax, sweetie." He purrs, running his fingers behind my earlobe.
What is he doing? Chills go down my spine, but it feels good. In an odd way.
He inhales deeply- he no longer sounds like the injured person I saw five minutes ago. "Just relax." He tells me.
Okay... Now what? I flop against him, my head sliding down. I giggle a bit.
"Now, you relax."
I hear the voice in my head. What the freak?!
Laughter-in the same voice- rings in my head. It suddenly seems so attractive.
"Yes, yes, relax, my sweet pet."
I don’t know what to feel. He looks so attractive, but I’m not sure I’m ready for this.
"Good girl."
I'm suddenly lying down on the blanket. My mind feels numb, like I can’t control my actions, yet my senses are still operational. I see him over me, leaning down.
He kisses me- on the lips, and it's as if somebody shocked me.
My eyes fly open: it's salty and sweet and a little smokey. I feel myself kissing back uncontrollably.
"Relax" he keeps saying as we kiss.
Finally, he breaks off. "Who are you?" I ask.
"Oh, if only I had known you would be so inquisitive, I never would've left you." His lips return to mine and the haze returns. "It's not a matter of who I am. It's what I am." he says.
Sparks light through me and his tongue slithers into my mouth, curling around my tongue and inviting it into his mouth. My eyes close. It feels good. Right. But wrong in a way.
His voice comes again and I open my eyes. "You should be feeling excited, my dear." he whispers. Caressing my hair next, he carelessly undoes the careful updo I always wear. I wince. "Relax. I won't hurt you," the voice teases. He takes the knife and presses the flat edge against my skin.
I think I lose consciousness for a bit. I remember asking, with the knife against me, "How do you know my name?"
"You're an inquisitive one, aren't you, my pet? I’ve been watching you for a while, now.”
I'm flopped against him again, and he carries me up like a rag doll, his hands tightly gripping my thighs. “Put me down, please! I can walk.”
"No, what if you leave me? I can’t have that happening.” He grips me tighter, hands moving up towards the opening of my skirt.
“Please, no! Don’t do this to me!” Part of me wants it. Badly. The other side says I’m too young.
“Relax.” Is all he says, before I black out.