Page 12 of Alien Huntsman (Alien Wolf Tales #2)

CHAPTER 12

K orrin was drowning in Tessa’s taste, in her scent, in the softness of her lips against his. His hands slid up her back, one tangling in her dark curls as he deepened the kiss. She made a small sound in the back of her throat, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and the beast inside him roared in triumph.

Mine.

The possessive growl rumbled from deep in his chest, vibrating against her mouth. The primal sound shocked him back to awareness. He jerked away from her, his breath coming in harsh pants, his body burning with need.

“I shouldn’t have—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. His hands were still on her, unwilling to let go despite his words.

Her eyes were midnight dark, her lips swollen from his kiss. She looked dazed, beautiful, her cheeks flushed with color. There was no fear on her face, only desire, and the sight of her like this—wanting him—nearly broke his control again.

“Why did you stop?” Her voice was husky, sending another bolt of desire through him.

He forced himself to set her gently aside, rising to put distance between them. His beast howled in protest, demanding he return to her, claim her fully.

“Because if I don’t stop now, I won’t stop at all.” The raw honesty in his voice surprised even him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me.”

She stood, taking a step toward him. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

The words struck him so hard he could barely breathe. He closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the table until the wood creaked beneath his fingers.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice was rough, strained. “I’m not… gentle. And you’re…” Human. Innocent. Too good for someone like me.

His beast clawed beneath his skin, demanding he close the distance between them again.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he added roughly.

She tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that made him want to look away. But he couldn’t. Not from her.

“Why not?” she asked simply.

A dozen answers crashed through his mind. Because he was dangerous—he’d proven that today, shifting into a beast before her eyes, fighting like the animal he truly was. Because she didn’t belong to him—no matter what his instincts screamed. Because he had no right to want her this badly—this human woman with her gentle hands and brave heart.

His jaw clenched as he fought for control. The cabin suddenly felt too small, the air between them charged with something he couldn’t afford to name.

“It won’t happen again,” he said flatly, forcing the words past his teeth.

Liar.

His own mind betrayed him with the truth. Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were false. The taste of her lingered on his lips. The memory of her body pressed against his was branded into his skin. His beast knew the truth his rational side refused to acknowledge—he would kiss her again. He would claim her if she let him.

He turned away, unable to bear the hurt that flashed across her face. His claws threatened to emerge as he clenched his fists at his sides. He needed to get out, to run, to hunt—anything to escape the overwhelming need to go back to her.

Instead he retreated to the far side of the cabin, positioning himself by one of the windows where he could watch the clearing. His muscles remained coiled tight, his body still vibrating with the aftershocks of both the fight and that kiss. He needed to maintain control. To remember why he couldn’t have her.

But his eyes betrayed him, tracking her every movement.

She knelt to tend the pups, her small fingers stroking their fur as they tumbled over each other to reach her. The sound of her soft humming drifted across the cabin, a melody he didn’t recognize but found himself straining to hear. His beast purred in approval at how naturally she cared for the young creatures.

The cabin was saturated with her scent now—sun-warmed honey mixed with desire—tormenting him with every breath. When she reached up to place dried herbs on the high shelf, the curve of her waist made his mouth go dry. His claws emerged unbidden, sinking into the window sill where his hands rested.

She glanced over her shoulder, catching him staring. Instead of looking away, he held her gaze, unable to pretend disinterest any longer. A flush spread across her cheeks, but she didn’t turn away either.

“I need to check the perimeter,” he growled, the words barely human.

He pushed away from the table, leaving deep gouges in the wood. The cabin was too small, too full of her. If he stayed, he would break his promise within minutes. His control hung by a thread, and that thread was unraveling with each moment in her presence.

As he reached the door, her voice stopped him.

“Korrin.”

Just his name on her lips was enough to make his beast howl. He paused, one hand on the door frame, claws digging into the wood.

“Will you be gone long?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

He should say yes. He should leave while there was still any hope of resisting her.

“No.”

Later that night he sat before the fire watching the flames. The cabin had grown quiet with nightfall, save for the occasional crackle of burning wood and the soft breathing of the pups curled together in their makeshift bed.

He should have left days ago. That had been the plan—deliver her somewhere safe, ensure she had supplies, and disappear. Simple. Clean. Instead, he remained, trapped by something more powerful than duty or obligation.

His enhanced hearing picked up Tessa’s movements from the bed across the cabin. The slight rustling of blankets, the subtle change in her breathing pattern. She wasn’t asleep, though she’d retired over an hour ago. He could feel her watching him, her gaze a tangible weight against his skin.

He kept his eyes fixed on the fire, unwilling to look over and break the fragile equilibrium they’d established after that kiss. If he turned, if he met those blue eyes again…

“You’ve been glaring at those flames like they’ve personally offended you,” her voice drifted across the cabin, tinged with amusement.

Despite himself, he turned. She lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, hair loose around her shoulders in dark waves. The firelight cast a warm glow across her skin, softening her features and highlighting the curve of her lips.

“Always so broody,” she teased, her smile small but genuine. “What terrible thoughts are occupying that mind of yours tonight?”

His jaw tightened. If she knew the nature of his thoughts, she wouldn’t be smiling at him like that.

“You should sleep,” he said roughly.

“So should you,” she countered, holding his gaze without a trace of fear. “But I’m beginning to think you never do.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, filled only by the popping of the fire. Then, unexpectedly, her expression softened.

“You know something?” she said quietly. “I’m not sorry.”

He frowned. “About what?”

“That you kidnapped me.” Her eyes never left his. “I know I should be. But I’m not.”

He stared at her, her words hanging in the air between them. Not sorry. The admission struck something deep inside him, something primal and possessive that he’d been fighting to suppress.

Before he could formulate a response, a sudden howl of wind rattled the cabin’s shutters. The temperature plummeted as if winter had descended in an instant. One of those rare mountain storms—violent and unpredictable, rolling in without warning.

The fire flickered wildly as cold air found every crack in the cabin’s aging structure. He watched her pull the thin blanket tighter around herself, a visible shiver running through her body. Her teeth chattered slightly as another gust of wind battered the cabin.

His beast stirred, restless and agitated. Fix it. Protect. Warm.

Humans were fragile, their bodies poorly equipped for the mountains’ harsh conditions. Even a summer storm could be dangerous. He’d seen what exposure could do, how quickly the cold could steal life.

She needs warmth. She needs us .

He tried to ignore the voice, to push back against the instinct driving him forward. But when another violent shiver wracked her body, something inside him snapped.

Before he could reconsider, he was on his feet, crossing the short distance to the bed. Her eyes widened as he lifted the edge of the blanket.

“Move over,” he growled.

She studied his face and for a moment, he thought she might refuse, might push him away. Then, without a word, she shifted toward the wall, making space beside her.

He slid under the blanket, the narrow bed forcing them close together. His body heat—always running hotter than a human’s—immediately created a pocket of warmth between them. Still, she trembled, whether from cold or proximity, he couldn’t tell.

“Come here,” he murmured, opening his arms.

This time she didn’t hesitate, quickly tucking herself against him. Her softness molded against his harder body, fitting perfectly as she curled into his chest. Her cold nose pressed against his neck, sending a jolt through him that had nothing to do with temperature.

His beast roared with satisfaction, a rumble of approval vibrating through his chest. Mine. Protect. Warm.

He lay perfectly still, acutely aware of every point where her body touched his. Her head rested against his chest, her breath warming his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The storm raged outside, rain lashing against the windows, wind howling through the trees, but inside the cabin, a strange peace had settled over them.

His heightened senses caught everything about her—the steady rhythm of her heart, the subtle floral scent of her hair, the softness of her curves pressed against him. His beast purred with contentment, satisfied to have her so close, safe in their arms.

Though her breathing had settled into a steady pattern, he knew she wasn’t asleep. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the alertness in her body. She was thinking, considering something.

After several minutes of silence broken only by the storm’s fury, Tessa shifted, tilting her head up to look at him. In the dim light from the dying fire, her eyes were luminous, searching his face with a curious intensity that made his pulse quicken.

“Are you afraid?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of what?” he responded, though he suspected he knew.

“Of losing control. With me.”

The question struck a nerve. Of course he was afraid. He’d spent years mastering his beast, learning to keep the primal side of his nature leashed. But around her, those carefully constructed barriers were crumbling.

“Yes, and you should be as well,” he answered gruffly. “You should be terrified of what happens if I lose control.”

To his surprise, she smiled—a small, knowing curve of her lips that sent heat coursing through his veins.

“I’m not,” she said simply.

He stared at her, bewildered by her calm acceptance, her complete lack of fear. Didn’t she understand what he was? What he could do?

“You should be,” he repeated, his voice rougher. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “I’ve seen your beast, Korrin. I’ve watched you with the pups. I’ve felt your hands when you carried me. You’ve had a thousand chances to hurt me.”

She placed her palm against his chest, directly over his thundering heart. “I’m not afraid of you losing control.”