Page 7 of Alien Huntsman (Alien Wolf Tales #2)

CHAPTER 7

T essa blinked awake to sunlight streaming through the cabin’s uncovered windows. For a moment, disorientation gripped her—the unfamiliar wooden beams overhead, the smell of pine instead of flour and sugar. Then the previous day’s events came crashing back.

She sat up quickly, the rough blanket falling to her waist before she remembered that she’d stripped down to her chemise to sleep. She grabbed the blanket to pull it back up, but the cabin stood empty. No towering Vultor, no sign of him except for his lingering scent—wild and masculine, like the forest after a rainfall.

“Hello?”

Her voice echoed in the small space, and the pups stirred in their makeshift bed near the hearth, yawning and stretching. At least they were still here. She slipped from beneath the covers, her feet quiet on the cool wooden floor. The fire had burned low overnight, but the cabin retained a surprising amount of warmth.

Her dress hung next to the stove and when she went to retrieve it, she discovered that it was surprisingly clean. He must have washed it last night after she’d fallen asleep. The unexpected kindness made her chest ache as she pulled her dress back on. She’d been doing her own laundry since Lenora had decided she didn’t want anything that smelled like the bakery included in the clothes she sent to be washed. This virtual stranger had been kinder to her than her stepmother.

Once she was dressed she peered out of the window. A substantial woodpile stood stacked against the cabin wall—far more than had been there yesterday. He’d worked tirelessly throughout the day, his powerful arms swinging the axe with effortless precision. She’d watched him from the doorway, mesmerized by the fluid strength in every movement.

Near the woodpile hung two rabbits and what looked like a small deer, cleaned and ready for preservation. More of his handiwork. He’d disappeared into the forest twice, returning each time with fresh game, refusing her offers of help. He’d even made a surprisingly good stew from his catch, using the small wood stove in the corner next to the fireplace.

“Take the bed,” he’d growled when darkness fell, spreading his cloak on the floor near the door. “I sleep better knowing nothing can get in without going through me first.”

She’d tried to protest—it was his cabin after all—but the look in those amber eyes brooked no argument.

But where was he now? His cloak was gone. The floor where he’d slept showed no indication anyone had been there. A cold feeling settled in her stomach. He’d said he was going to leave her—had he left for good? Abandoned her here?

She checked the larder and found it surprisingly full. Root vegetables stored in boxes of hay. A basket of apples. Even a sack of flour and salt. Together with the rabbits and the deer, it was enough food to last for weeks.

“Why would you do all this just to leave?” she whispered to the empty cabin.

Bashful whined, pawing at her skirt, and she bent down and picked him up.

“Looks like it might just be us now,” she murmured, trying to ignore an unexpected pang of disappointment. But then she spotted his cloak on a peg on the wall next to the bed. He was coming back.

Her immediate rush of relief was so overwhelming that it startled her. What was she thinking? He’d kidnapped her and brought her here as a prisoner. She should be grateful that he was gone. In fact she should be using this opportunity to escape.

Except that escape meant leaving the pups. Her heart ached as looked over at them tumbling around by the hearth. They played with such abandon, unaware of her plans or the dangers outside. She’d grown to love them in the short time she’d cared for them, their little bodies warm against her when she fed them, their tiny tongues licking her fingers in gratitude.

But she wasn’t a fool. Seven adyani pups would slow her down considerably. She’d never make it far carrying them all, and if they started yipping or crying, they’d give away her position instantly. She also wasn’t sure what she’d be facing if—when—she made it back to the village. She’d decided to go to Willem and ask his help. Hopefully he could make her stepmother understand she wasn’t going anywhere.

It’s for the best , she told herself sternly. She’d always known she wouldn’t be able to keep them in the village forever.

She put Bashful back with the others and kneeled beside them, running her fingers through their soft fur.

“I’m sorry, little ones,” she whispered as tears welled up, blurring her vision. “I have to go alone.”

As much as she hated to leave them, she knew it was the right decision. She was sure that the Vultor would care for them. He could have left them to die in the woodshed, but instead, he’d gathered them up and brought them along. He’d even hunted for them yesterday, bringing back meat specifically for their growing bodies.

Whatever his intentions toward her, he wouldn’t harm them—she was certain of that.

After one last stroke for each of the pups, she adjusted the blanket they slept on, making sure it was safely away from the dying embers in the fireplace. She filled their water bowl and filled another bowl with leftover stew.

“He’ll be back for you,” she assured them, though her voice broke. “And maybe… maybe when I find my way back to the village, I can figure out a way to come back for you.”

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She knew once she left, she’d likely never see them again.

Even though she felt guilty about doing so, she grabbed the water skin and a couple of apples before heading for the door. It felt impossibly heavy as she pulled it open, taking one last look at the pups.

“Be good,” she whispered, then stepped outside, closing the door firmly behind her as more tears filled her eyes.

Dashing away the tears, she studied the terrain. Trees stretched in every direction, but the land sloped downwards to her right. Logic said going downhill would eventually lead to the base of the mountains, and from there she could find her way back to the village.

Biting back another sob, she hurried into the forest and started downhill, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The morning sun filtered through the canopy above, creating dappled patterns that shifted with every breeze but she was too nervous to appreciate their beauty.

Every twig snap and rustle made her heart jump. She’d spent her life in kitchens and markets, not wilderness. The forest felt alive around her in a way that was both beautiful and terrifying. Birds called overhead in languages she couldn’t understand, and unseen creatures scurried through the underbrush.

“Just keep moving,” she muttered to herself. “Down means town.”

She repeated the makeshift rhyme with each step, trying to ignore the growing ache in her legs and the scratches on her arms from pushing through brambles. A flash of movement caught her eye—something long and sinuous sliding through the fallen leaves to her right. She gasped and jumped sideways, her mind conjuring images of Cresca’s version of a venomous snake.

Her foot landed on nothing.

The ground disappeared beneath her, and her stomach lurched as she began to fall. Her arms flailed, desperately seeking purchase. By some miracle, her fingers closed around a gnarled branch jutting from the edge of what she now realized was a steep ravine.

She dangled over the drop, her feet kicking uselessly in the air as the branch creaked ominously under her weight. Below her stretched a rocky slope that ended in a tangle of fallen trees and sharp stones.

“Help!” she cried out, though she knew no one would hear. Her fingers began to slip on the rough bark, tiny splinters digging into her skin.

The branch dipped lower. Panic surged through her veins as she realized it was beginning to pull free from the earth. Dirt and small rocks showered down from where the root was slowly tearing away from the edge.

“Please,” she whispered, not even sure who she was begging. “I don’t want to die.”

Her arms trembled with the strain of holding her entire body weight. How long before they gave out completely? The drop below seemed to stretch endlessly, promising broken bones at best.

A shadow fell across her face, but before she could look up, strong hands clamped around her wrists. With a single powerful motion, she was hauled upwards as if she weighed nothing at all.

She found herself pressed against a solid chest, staring into furious amber eyes.

“What were you thinking?” he growled, his voice vibrating through her body.

She couldn’t answer, her heart still hammering too hard against her ribs. He’d appeared out of nowhere, like some forest spirit from the old tales.

Without waiting for a response, he scooped her into his arms. One moment she was trembling on the edge of the ravine, the next she was cradled against him, her feet dangling in the air.

“Put me down,” she protested weakly, though her body betrayed her with a wave of relief.

“So you can find another cliff to fall from?” His jaw was tight, a muscle twitching beneath the skin.

As he carried her through the forest, she gradually caught her breath. She glanced around at the trees, suddenly realizing she had no idea which direction led to the cabin. Everything looked the same—endless trunks and undergrowth with no path in sight. Even if she’d escaped the ravine on her own, she would have been hopelessly lost. She’d rushed headlong into danger without any real plan.

I was a fool , she realized. But now I’m safe.

In spite of her Vultor’s anger, she had no doubt about that and she found herself relaxing against his chest. His stride was sure and steady, his arms warm and secure around her. Her cheek rested against his shoulder, and she could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

It was… not unpleasant. The thought made her cheeks flush with heat. She shouldn’t feel safe in the arms of her captor, yet her body seemed to have its own opinion on the matter.

He carried her all the way back to the cabin and shouldered open the cabin door, still carrying Tessa. The pups immediately rushed toward them, yipping excitedly.

“You can put me down now,” she said quietly.

He lowered her to her feet but kept a hand on her arm until she was steady. The warmth of his touch lingered even after he released her.

“Don’t try that again.” His voice was hard but something else flickered in his eyes—concern? “These mountains are dangerous. There are ravines, predators, hidden sinkholes. You wouldn’t survive a day.”

She wanted to argue, to insist she could manage on her own, but the memory of dangling over that ravine was too fresh. If he hadn’t found her when he did…

“You’re right,” she admitted, the words sticking in her throat. “I don’t know these woods. I would have gotten lost even if I hadn’t fallen.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, as if he hadn’t expected her to concede.

“I’ll stay,” she continued, crossing her arms. “For now.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, not quite a smile but close. It transformed his face, softening the hard lines and making him look younger. She found herself staring at him, surprised by how that tiny expression affected her.

“In which case, don’t you think it’s time for introductions?” she added. “I’m Tessa.”

“I know.” She waited patiently until he sighed. “I’m Korrin.”

He turned away before she could respond, gathering ingredients from the larder. A rabbit he must have caught while he was out lay ready to be prepared. He cleaned it deftly enough but he didn’t prove as skilled when it came to the vegetables.

She watched him fumble with the knife for a moment, then sighed heavily.

“Let me do that before you ruin it,” she said, stepping forward and holding out her hand.

He hesitated, then handed over the knife. “You cook as well as bake?”

“I know my way around a kitchen. Before my father married Lenora, we often cooked together.” She started on the vegetables, taking comfort in the familiar process. “If I’m staying here, I might as well make myself useful.”

He stepped back, watching her work with those intense amber eyes. The silence between them felt different now—not comfortable exactly, but no longer fraught with tension.

But then their hands touched as he handed her an iron pot and an unexpected spark of warmth ignited within her. It was nothing, just a brief touch, but she felt… alive in a way she never had before.

For a heartbeat, their eyes met. Gold flared in his eyes as something passed between them, something hot and primal and full of promise.

Then the pot clattered to the floor, breaking the spell. She blinked as he bent down to retrieve the pot.

“You can cook,” he said gruffly, handing her the fallen pot. “I’ll check the fish trap.”

She stared at his broad back as he walked away.

“Be careful,” she murmured.

It wasn’t until he disappeared into the woods that she realized how much she’d meant the simple words.