Page 6 of Alien Huntsman (Alien Wolf Tales #2)

CHAPTER 6

K orrin stared across the flames at Tessa’s sleeping body. He hadn’t gone far, just out of sight amongst the trees, but he’d been unable to face any more of her questions. Especially when he didn’t know the answers himself. He’d waited until she fell asleep again before returning. The firelight painted her skin gold, softening her features until she looked almost ethereal. One of the pups had wriggled free of its siblings and curled against her neck, its tiny body rising and falling with each breath she took.

His jaw clenched. She was human. Just another fragile, treacherous human. No matter what his instincts whispered, she wasn’t his concern.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He’d never been in such a position before. Usually his jobs were straightforward—find the target, complete the contract, collect payment. But this? This was a mess of his own making.

He couldn’t take her back for the same reason he’d accepted the job in the first place. If he took her back, her stepmother would simply hire someone else, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to complete the job properly. Someone who might make her suffer before the end.

The thought made his beast snarl possessively.

Even if he just let her go, he was sure she’d simply return to that pitiful village. To the stepmother who wanted her dead. To the pompous male who’d been leering at her.

The stick snapped in his hand.

She deserves more than that , he thought as one of the pups yipped in its sleep. She’d insisted on caring for creatures that most humans would have killed on sight.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he told her sleeping body.

The wind shifted, carrying her sweet, intoxicating scent to him. His beast stirred, wanting to move closer, to wrap around her and keep her safe. The thought made him growl, low in his throat. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t care about humans. He didn’t protect them. He certainly didn’t feel this strange pull toward them.

But as he watched her sleep, her face soft and peaceful despite her circumstances, he knew he couldn’t let her return to almost certain death. But where could he take her instead?

Taking her to the Vultor enclave seemed the most logical solution. He was sure that Seren would agree to protect her, at least temporarily. But his logic failed when he imagined Tessa amongst his kind.

Scarlett had been accepted, yes, but only because she was Finnar’s mate. The bond between them was recognized and respected. But Tessa? An unattached human female with no ties to their pack? Some of them would reject her simply because she was human, but some of the males would see her as fair game.

The thought of another Vultor approaching her, catching her scent, touching her—his claws extended involuntarily, digging into his palms.

Ours, his beast whispered. Ours to protect.

“Shut up,” he muttered, shaking his head to clear it.

He glanced back at her. Another one of the pups had crawled up to nestle against her stomach, and even in sleep, her arm curled protectively around the small creature. The sight did nothing to calm his agitation.

The other Vultor males would see her gentleness as weakness. They wouldn’t understand how much courage it took for a human to care for creatures her kind feared and hated. They wouldn’t see what he saw.

Because she’s ours , the beast insisted, and he clenched his jaw. This possessiveness was dangerous and unwelcome. One soft little female with kind eyes and a gentle smile shouldn’t be able to crack his foundations so easily.

Yet the thought of Daven or Larak or any of the other unmated males catching her scent made his hackles rise. They wouldn’t understand her value beyond the obvious. They’d see her curves, her beauty, but miss the strength beneath her softness.

He forced himself to turn away from the sleeping woman, scanning the darkness beyond their small camp. The mountains loomed around them, dark against the stars. He needed a destination, somewhere to take her that wasn’t the Vultor enclave.

The cabin.

Three winters ago, after Seren had found him half-starved and feral in the northern territories, Seren had taken him to a small hunter’s cabin. His mother’s death had been too fresh, the pain too raw to face a new pack with their curious eyes and probing questions. He’d needed solitude to lick his wounds.

Seren had respected his need for space but checked on him occasionally, bringing supplies and news of the pack. The Alpha had been patient, giving him time to come to terms with his grief before fully integrating him into the fold.

The cabin wasn’t much—a single room with a fireplace and some basic furnishings. But it was sturdy, hidden in a small valley that few knew about, even though it wasn’t that far from either the village or the Vultor enclave. It had a stream nearby for fresh water and was far enough from both human settlements and Vultor territory to provide some breathing room.

There would be dust and cobwebs, but the roof was sound. He’d reinforced the door and windows himself during those long, lonely nights and because he still returned occasionally, it was equipped with basic supplies. It wasn’t perfect, but it would give him time to figure out what to do with her. And more importantly, it would keep her away from the other unmated males.

His beast rumbled with approval at the thought, and he scowled, irritated again by his beast’s possessiveness. He didn’t want the female. He just needed somewhere to stash her while he came up with a more permanent solution. The cabin would do. Remote enough to be safe from Lenora’s reach, yet comfortable enough that she wouldn’t suffer unnecessarily.

The only issue was that it might not be remote enough to stop her from finding her way back. He would have to confuse her, make her think it was much further away than it was. He moved back towards the fire, already planning their route.

A short time later he crossed over to where she still slept, curled protectively around the adyani pups. He bent down and sliced through her bindings, then nudged her gently with his boot. “Get up. We’re moving.”

She startled awake, confusion flashing across her face before recognition set in. The flash of fear that followed made his beast stir uncomfortably.

“It’s still dark,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“That’s the point.” He placed the two pups that had arranged themselves next to her back with the other pups, then gathered the blanket back into a makeshift sack holding them. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

He watched her struggle to her feet, clenching his fists to stop himself from helping her, then winced as she stretched stiff muscles. Humans were so fragile. This one had spent her life in a village, probably never sleeping on anything harder than a feather mattress.

“I can carry them,” she offered, reaching for the bundle.

“No.” The word came out sharper than he intended and she gave him a startled look. “I’ll take them.”

He deliberately chose a path that doubled back on itself multiple times. The cabin was less than an hour from their current location if they went directly, but he had no intention of letting her know that. Better she believe they were deep in Vultor territory, far from any hope of escape.

He led her across a shallow stream, then up a steep ridge only to descend again on the other side. The path was deliberately challenging—over fallen logs, through dense underbrush, across slippery rocks.

Yet she didn’t complain. Not once.

He found himself glancing back more often than necessary, expecting to find her lagging or in tears. Instead, she followed steadily, her face determined. Her shoes were impractical for the terrain, her dress caught on brambles, and her breathing grew labored on the steeper climbs—but she pressed on.

When she stumbled on a loose rock, catching herself against a tree trunk, he almost went back to help. Almost. Instead, he waited silently until she righted herself and continued forward.

“How much farther?” she finally asked after they’d been walking for over an hour. There was no whine in her voice, just quiet inquiry.

“As far as it takes,” he answered gruffly.

The pups had begun to stir in their bundle, making soft whimpering sounds. Soon they’d need feeding.

He grudgingly admitted to himself that he was impressed. Most village humans would have broken down by now, demanding rest or comfort. This one had courage. It didn’t change anything—she was still human, still a complication he didn’t need—but it was… noteworthy.

A short time later he spotted the cabin through the trees and felt an unexpected rush of relief. She’d kept pace without complaint, but her steps had grown increasingly unsteady. Her face remained determined, but exhaustion had etched itself into every line of her body.

He’d intended to lead her in circles for another hour at least, but something made him cut the journey short. Not concern—definitely not concern—just practicality. She’d be useless if she collapsed.

“There.” He nodded toward the small structure nestled against the mountainside.

The cabin stood exactly as he remembered—weathered logs darkened by seasons of rain and snow, a sturdy chimney of stacked stone rising from one end. The forest had crept closer over the years, branches stretching toward the roof like curious fingers.

He shifted the bundle of pups and strode forward. The door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing the single room beyond. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light filtering through the shuttered windows. A rough-hewn table with two chairs occupied one corner, a narrow bed the other. The stone fireplace dominated the far wall, cold ashes still piled in its hearth.

“It’s not much,” he muttered, setting the pups down in the box next to the fireplace intended to hold firewood.

She’d followed him inside, wandering slowly around the small space. She didn’t speak as she crossed to the bed, running her fingers over the worn quilt before she sighed and turned to face him.

“Why are you doing this?”

The question hung in the air between them. He stared at her, at this human female who should mean nothing to him. Her dark curls had escaped their braid, framing a face smudged with dirt from the journey but still undeniably appealing. Those blue eyes held no fear now, only questions.

Why was he doing this? He’d been paid to make her disappear. The simplest solution would have been to kill her quickly. Even taking her far into the mountains and abandoning her would have fulfilled his contract.

Instead, he’d brought her here. Brought her to a place where he’d once sought refuge himself.

He turned away from her probing gaze, unwilling to examine his own motives too closely. Instead he busied himself clearing the ashes from the fireplace.

“Your stepmother wants you dead,” he said finally, avoiding the actual question. “I’m keeping you alive. For now.”

Her silence felt heavy somehow. After a moment, he heard the soft rustle of her skirts as she turned away and he released a breath.

“I’ll get you settled, then I’ll leave. There’s enough here to keep you alive. Food stores in the larder and root cellar. Creek for water about fifty paces west.”

Once again she didn’t answer and he couldn’t prevent himself from turning to look at her. She was studying him, eyes wide and thoughtful.

“You’re just going to abandon me here?”

“Better than the alternative.” He moved toward the door, needing space to clear his head. “I’ll get firewood.”

Outside, the mountain air filled his lungs, crisp and clean. He followed a worn path to a small clearing where split logs had been stacked under a crude shelter. He’d left a decent supply last time he was here but she would need more if she were going to be here for any length of time.

He grabbed the axe stored under the shelter and swung it with practiced ease, splitting a log cleanly down the middle. The physical exertion felt good, channeling the restless energy that had been building inside him.

He’d leave her here. It was the sensible solution. The cabin was far enough from the village that Lenora would assume her stepdaughter was dead, but close enough to civilization that she could eventually find her way back if she chose. Or make a life here. Either way, his hands would be clean.

Another log split beneath his axe. And another.

The image of her face floated unwanted into his mind—her soft smile as she watched the pups, creatures most humans would have destroyed without hesitation. The determination in her eyes as she’d followed him through the forest without complaint.

He paused, axe raised mid-swing, as the truth hit him with unexpected force: he didn’t want to leave her.

The realization unsettled him. He’d spent years keeping everyone at a distance, but especially humans, knowing their capacity for cruelty and betrayal. Yet something about this female pulled at him, awakening instincts he’d long suppressed.

His beast stirred restlessly beneath his skin, insistent and demanding. Ours. Stay. Protect .

He slowly lowered the axe. He was playing with fire and he knew it, and yet, the prospect of leaving her behind, alone in the mountains, made his chest ache.

He’d been alone like that. He knew what it was like.

Fuck.

The single curse seemed entirely inadequate for the mess of conflicting thoughts and feelings crashing through him.

She was human. Weak. Fragile. Yet somehow stronger than many of his kind.

And the way she’d looked at him just now, as though she understood his actions. As if she’d forgiven him for taking her from her home and delivering her to the edge of the wilderness.

“Fuck,” he repeated, running a hand through his hair.

If he stayed with her, he’d have to face the truth—that this human female meant something to him.