Page 5

I woke to the sound of crackling fire and the scent of woodsmoke. My head throbbed, and for a moment I could not remember where I was. The ceiling above me was not the familiar rough planks of the land girls' cottage, but long, sturdy branches and dark thatching.

The memories returned in a rush. The storm. The stream. Drowing.

I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as pain stabbed through my temples. A large, gentle hand pressed against my shoulder, urging me back down.

"Easy," said a voice—deep, rumbling, unmistakably male. "You nearly died."

I turned toward the voice and froze.

A creature knelt beside me, unlike anything I had ever seen.

Even crouched down, he was huge, with broad shoulders and a thick, powerful frame.

He wore a leather vest and plain black trousers.

Coarse black hair covered his muscular arms and what I could see of his chest. His hands were the size of dinner plates with thick fingers and blunt, black claws.

I stared at the one hovering just inches from me until he snatched it away.

He cleared his throat and I jerked my gaze to his face.

My heart stuttered. Pointed ears rose from the top of his head and his nose was more of a snout, complete with tusks that jutted from his lower jaw.

His eyes, though… His eyes were amber-colored and startlingly intelligent, watching me with what looked like concern.

The scream died in my chest. His careful stillness, kept me frozen in place. He did not move, barely breathed, as if afraid of frightening me. I inhaled shakily. So, this was the Beast of Dean.

"You're safe," he said quietly. "I pulled you from the stream. You nearly drowned."

I stared at him, speechless. The creature the other girls had whispered about with terror had saved my life. I was not sure how to feel.

I looked away from him to scan my surroundings. The cottage was small but immaculately clean, with books lining several shelves and bundles of dried herbs hanging from the rafters. A fire burned cheerfully in a stone hearth, and I was buried beneath what felt like a dozen furs and woolen blankets.

That is when I realized I was not wearing anything beneath the covers.

Heat flooded my face as the implication hit me. My wet clothes must have been removed. They would have killed me otherwise. But still, the thought of this creature undressing me while I was unconscious made my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his eyes carefully fixed on my face, never drifting lower.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. My throat felt raw, probably from the water I had inhaled. The creature seemed to understand.

"Here," he said, reaching for something beside him. "This will help." He offered me a wooden cup, steam rising from it.

"It's just broth," he said when I hesitated. "Herbs for healing and honey for sweetness. Nothing that will harm you."

There was something in his tone, a patient kindness that finally convinced me. I struggled to sit up, carefully keeping the blankets pulled high, and took the cup in shaking hands. The broth was warm and soothing, easing the rawness in my throat.

"Thank you," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Something flickered in his amber eyes. "You're welcome."

We sat in silence while I sipped the broth, both of us carefully avoiding the obvious. Finally, he cleared his throat and his ears twitched backward.

"Your clothes," he said quietly, "they were soaked through. I had to... that is, you would have..." He gestured helplessly toward the fire where I could now see my shirt and pants hanging to dry. "I kept my eyes closed," he added quickly. "I only did what was necessary."

I felt my face flame even hotter, but I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I understand."

His shoulders sagged with relief. "I have a shirt you could wear. Something dry and warm."

He rose from his chair to cross the room. From a wooden chest, he retrieved the promised garment. He set it on the bed beside me, then moved toward the door.

"I'll be just outside," he said. "Call out when you're ready."

I caught a glimpse of trees before the door closed behind him with a soft click. I set down the empty cup and looked around more carefully. The furniture was rough but sturdy, the floor swept clean, everything in its proper place. The books looked worn from frequent handling.

I pushed back the mound of blankets and slipped out of bed.

The floor was further down than I anticipated and cool under my feet.

I struggled out of my damp shirt and pants, hanging them near the fire to dry.

The shirt he had given me was soft and clean.

It smelled faintly of pine and something uniquely masculine.

Not unpleasant, but not human either. I dropped the shirt over my head and it fell nearly to my ankles.

"I'm ready," I called, folding the sleeves back to free my hands.

He entered a moment later, his eyes carefully averted until he was certain I was decent. When he looked at me, something in his expression made my chest feel tight.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much. Thank you." I shifted in place, fiddling with the shirt sleeves. "I’m Alice. What's your name?"

The question seemed to surprise him. He was quiet for so long that I thought he might not answer.

"Heath," he said finally. "My name is Heath."

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