The Lion Man

A second terrifying growl echoes through the web of misshapen trees. The next moment, a gigantic man steps forward, ignoring my companions. My dog Toto cowers behind me, his little jaws silent despite the threat. This road's darker than any story I knew. The Woodsman and Mr. Scarecrow step back, watching cautiously as the stranger approaches. At twenty-two, I'm totally rattled by his gaze, those cold, hazel eyes locking onto mine with a spark of surprise, like he's seeing a woman for the first time in ages.
His irises flare with a wild, seductive desire. My tiny body trembles, not just from fear. His powerful square jaw and five o'clock shadow beneath long, blonde hair-the color of a lion's mane-make him unbelievably masculine. It clicks in my head: this man wants to connect, and part of me does too.