Page 7 of Alokar (The Alliance Rescue #2)

Hannah

I slowly emerged from the darkness, my body aching as awareness crept back into my limbs.

The world felt tilted and wrong. Everything remained foggy as I struggled to piece together what had happened.

My head throbbed with a dull ache, and the bright sunlight streaming through the leaves made my eyes water.

I remembered climbing up the mountain path, savoring the pine-scented air, and the joy of being in nature despite the purpose of my journey.

Then I remembered the feeling—the electric prickling sensation crawling along my skin, a warning whispered from the breeze that something was wrong.

I slowed my steps to a cautious pace, my eyes sweeping across the shadowed undergrowth while my ears strained to catch every sound. It was faint, more instinct than anything concrete, but I knew without a doubt that something stalked me through the trees.

I tied Jubal and Bertha’s reins to a birch sapling, their nervous snorting echoing my unease, then carefully retraced my steps along the narrow trail.

My father had taught me how to move like a ghost through the wilderness, each footfall silent and stealthy.

Settling myself behind the rough bark of a massive pine, I waited.

Long minutes crawled by until the beast finally emerged from the shadows.

It looked different from when it killed my dad—not quite as wild or vicious—but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I sprang from my hiding place and fired.

The Marlin 1895 could drop a charging bear in its tracks, but this thing didn’t even flinch. Instead....

Holy shit, had the thing actually spoken to me?

And was it wearing clothes?

I scrambled to my knees, my palms scraping against small stones and decomposing leaves as I frantically searched for my rifle.

A familiar whinny pierced the air, drawing my gaze toward where Jubal stood peacefully, his sorrel coat gleaming in the fading sunlight as he methodically worked his way through a patch of grass.

There, secured in the worn leather scabbard hanging from his saddle, was my rifle.

A deep frown creased my brow as I pressed my palm against the side of my throbbing skull, trying to shake loose the fog that clouded my thoughts.

Nothing made sense. I distinctly remembered leaving both Jubal and Bertha tethered at least a half mile down the trail.

And the last I remembered of my rifle, Bigfoot had grabbed it and. ...

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A strangled sound tore from my throat, high-pitched and raw, the kind of mortifying squeak that would have sent waves of shame through me if anyone I knew had been around to witness it. Still on my hands and knees, I slowly lifted my gaze upward, my neck muscles protesting the movement.

Him.

I scrambled desperately to get my feet under me. My limbs felt disconnected and clumsy, betraying me as I flailed like a newborn colt trying to stand for the first time, and I ended up on my ass.

What the hell was he doing here? Had he somehow followed my trail? How was that even possible? I’d waited around a bit to see if Hank would show, but the trailhead had been completely deserted when I finally set out.

“Take it easy. You’re okay.”

He knelt down a few feet away, his palms out in the universal gesture of no harm. “I won’t hurt you.”

Damn it all to hell, I believed him, or at least I really, really wanted to.

I thought him handsome last night under the dim bar lights, but out here, bathed in golden sunlight, he stole my breath.

He possessed the kind of masculine beauty that belonged to one of those Greek statues—all sharp angles and perfect proportions that seemed too flawless for mortal flesh.

His voice carried a faint accent I couldn’t quite identify, each word rolling off his tongue in deep, gravelly tones that sounded sexy as hell.

Definitely not American. The bronze undertones of his skin and features suggested Mediterranean ancestry, though the striking mixture of silver and black hair hinted at something more.

For a moment, I wondered if he might have Native American heritage—his high cheekbones and complexion could have supported that theory—but we normally didn’t grow them this big.

No, there had to be some ancient Viking blood coursing through those veins, because the man was absolutely massive. Even kneeling, he towered over me.

“You were at the bar last night,” I said, the words more an accusation than a question.

“I was,” he admitted easily, the corners of his full lips quirking into a smile that made him even more devastatingly handsome.

Damn! I hoped I wouldn’t end up having to shoot him. He was really too pretty to kill. “Who are you? What are you doing out here?”

The broad shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, muscles rippling beneath his flannel shirt. “Hunting grizzly, the same as you.”

His words brought back in a flash what I should be more worried about than the handsome stranger lurking in the wilderness.

“I shot it,” I said. “I shot it, but the bullet didn’t hurt it.” I opened my mouth to tell him that Bigfoot actually spoke to me, but decided it sounded too crazy. “Did you see anything?” I pointed at the game trail that disappeared into the shadows between the pines. “It was just down the path.

“I only saw you passed out.” Those warm teddy bear eyes narrowed in genuine concern, studying my face.

“I didn’t pass out,” I claimed, pushing to my feet with all the indignance I could muster, dirt and pine needles cascading from my clothes.

“Okay.” He at least had the wherewithal not to appear amused as he rose in one fluid motion, taking a step closer. Jesus, this guy was huge, at least seven feet tall.

“What are you doing so high up on the mountain?” I demanded, brushing the leaves and twigs from my jeans with agitated movements.

“Are you following me?” Strangely, the idea didn’t bother me as much as it should have.

I was smart enough to know there were dangers in the mountains for a woman alone, and not just from Bigfoot.

Trying to be stealthy, I slid my gaze toward Jubal and the stock of my rifle where it emerged from the sheath.

Twenty feet away, maybe a little less. This guy was huge.

Surely, someone that big had to be a little slow, and I was fast. Fast enough to get to my gun if I needed it.

Although I really didn’t want to have to shoot him.

“Yes, I am following you,” he said, his deep voice sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

Were serial killers this honest? I cast another nervous glance at my rifle.

“I overheard you talking in the bar last night. You’re going after the grizzly that killed your father.

I thought I could help. I am an experienced hunter. ”

“Hunter?” He looked like most of the hunters I knew, albeit a lot better looking. He smelled a lot better, too. But there was one thing missing. “Where’s your weapon?”

He nodded to the olive-green backpack leaning against the trunk of a pine a few feet away. “It’s in my pack.”

The snort of disbelief was out before I could stop it. “You can’t get a gun big enough to kill a griz in a backpack.”

What had only been a faint smile before now turned into a dazzling spectacle that lit up his entire face, revealing straight white teeth. “Who says it’s a gun?”

I blinked at him, my heart skipping a beat. “Seriously, you’re not going to take on a grown Big....” I bit back the truth and regrouped, “grizzly with just a handgun or knife?”

He chuckled, and it felt like warm honey flowing over my skin. “Have you noticed how big I am?”

I’d noticed everything about him—every impressive inch—but that was beside the point.

“Thanks, but I don’t need any help.” The words came out sharper than I intended, laced with the kind of stubborn independence that had gotten me into trouble more times than I could count.

I pivoted away from him, my boots crunching against the carpet of fallen pine needles as I made my way over to Jubal.

The familiar weight settled between my shoulder blades—that prickly sensation of being watched by a stranger.

Yet the instinctive crawling of skin that should have warned me of danger didn’t manifest. Instead, an inexplicable warmth spread through my chest, wrapping around me like a protective blanket, whispering that I was safe with this man.

“How long do you think you would have lasted passed out in the dirt with a grizzly... or something else nearby?” His voice carried across the small clearing, calm and matter-of-fact.

I threw a glance over my shoulder, taking in the sight of him standing exactly where I’d left him.

Those massive arms were now folded across the broad expanse of his chest, the flannel stretching taut over bulging muscles.

He hadn’t moved to follow me, hadn’t tried to close the distance or assert dominance.

He just stood there, watching me with those pretty brown eyes.

The bastard was right, and it irritated me more than a burr under a saddle.

“I shot it,” I reminded him, my voice defensive.

My hands found Jubal’s familiar warmth, fingers trailing over the worn leather of his saddle.

The motion was soothing, grounding, until my touch paused at the rifle scabbard.

The metal felt cold beneath my palm, and something deep in my gut twisted with wrongness at the thought of drawing my weapon on him.

“And you said it did nothing.” The soft crunch of his footsteps announced his approach, each step measured and unhurried.

When he finally stopped beside me, his presence was like standing next to a living furnace—all heat and solid strength.

He leaned closer, and suddenly the air was saturated with his scent: rich leather, the smoky burn of good whiskey, and something deeper, warmer, like the comforting crackle of a fire on a winter night.

“I suspect what you’re hunting will be hard to kill. ”

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, curiosity warring with caution in my chest. There was something in the way he’d said those words, something that suggested knowledge rather than speculation.

Those teddy bear eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch, and in their depths, I saw a light that made my pulse quicken with recognition.

He knew. Somehow, impossibly, he knew my secret.

“You know, don’t you?” The words escaped as barely more than a whisper, carried on the breeze like a confession I hadn’t meant to make.

“Know what?” Ewok’s response was casual, almost innocent, but the calculating look that flickered across his features betrayed him. Those brown eyes studied me with the focus of a predator assessing prey—or perhaps a kindred spirit recognizing another.

The truth hung between us, impossible to ignore. “You know I’m not after a grizzly.” I drew in a shaky breath, tasting pine and possibility on my tongue. The words that came next felt like stepping off a cliff, not knowing if I’d find solid ground or empty air. “I’m after a Bigfoot.”

“Yes.” The single word fell from his lips with the weight of absolute certainty, those unwavering brown eyes never leaving my face.

Do you believe in Bigfoot?" Each word felt like a gamble, a roll of dice that could either bring me a companion who understood or confirm that I was just another crazy person chasing shadows in the wilderness.

Silence stretched between us. The breeze picked up, setting the pine boughs to whispering overhead as if nature itself leaned in to hear his answer. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a softness I hadn’t heard before, tinged with something that sounded almost like melancholy.

“I have come across many creatures in my life,” he said, each word carefully chosen, “some that many would find unbelievable.”

The admission hung in the air between us. But it wasn’t quite the answer I needed. “How can I trust you?” Even as I asked the question, the persistent voice in my gut was already shouting an answer.

One eyebrow arched upward, and the corner of his mouth quirked in what might have been amusement. “Well, I didn’t leave you lying in the dirt.”

“True.” The word came out grudgingly, but honest. Everything I’d been taught about survival, every cautionary tale about trusting strangers in the wilderness, screamed at me to walk away.

But my father’s voice echoed loudest in my memory: Trust your gut, Hannah.

It’ll never steer you wrong. And my gut was screaming now, drowning out every logical objection.

I extended my hand toward him, the gesture feeling both natural and momentous. “My name is Hannah, Hannah Rainwater.”

He stared at my outstretched hand for a heartbeat, something unreadable flickering across his features.

Then, instead of the handshake I’d expected, he took my hand in both of his, cradling it like something precious.

His palms were warm and calloused, speaking of hard work and outdoor living.

Where our skin touched, a faint electric spark seemed to kindle, sending unexpected heat racing up my arm.

“My name is Alokar Vey, but everyone calls me Ewok.”

Despite everything, I found myself grinning. “Your parents were Star Wars fans, huh?”

Confusion flickered across his features for just a moment, as if he was translating my words through some internal filter before he nodded with what seemed like relief. “Yes.”

“Well, Ewok,” I said, reluctantly extracting my hand from his grip and immediately missing the warmth of his touch. “If I let you tag along, I have only one rule.” I turned back to Jubal, making a show of checking over my saddle to hide the flush I felt creeping up my neck.

“What is it?” His voice held a note of genuine curiosity, and when I glanced back, I found him watching me with that same intense focus, head tilted slightly as if I were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

That look made my thoughts scatter like startled birds, but there was one thing that remained crystal clear in my mind.

“When we find that bastard Bigfoot,” I said, my voice carrying all the rageand determination that had driven me up the mountain, “I get to kill it.”