Page 3 of Guarded by the Yeti (Monster Security Agency)

Chapter Three

Kaelthar

The cabin is in good shape. It was summer the last time I was here, so all the blinds are down. The polar night took over in late September, and it’s December now. Right before Christmas. What a way to spend the holidays. And I’m talking about Ysella; I was never a big fan of Christmas and the like. I wonder how long we’ll have to hide here, near the North Pole, because even if I’m used to not seeing the sun for months on end, I don’t think Ysella has ever experienced a polar night before.

Maybe I should’ve taken her home, in the Himalayas.

No. Those mountains are filled with Yetis. My kind is everywhere, community next to community. Taking a human female there would be dumb of me. A Yeti female can handle a Yeti male at his worst, but a human female would be prey. Meat. If I as much as lost sight of her and we were surrounded by Yetis, she would be gone in an instant. And I can fight two Yetis for her. Maybe three. Okay, four if I go into berserker mode. But it wouldn’t guarantee her integrity or survival.

This is better. The two Yeti communities around these parts are small, and no one knows about my cabin. It’s a place I built for myself a few years ago, wanting to have somewhere I could isolate and relax when life got particularly hard. Somewhere that reminded me of home. Now I hope this humble lair of mine is good enough for the mafia princess. Surely, her family bathed her in luxuries. As rotten as they were, she was their little girl.

I lead Ysella inside and close the door. It’s freezing, and it’s dark, and I don’t know what to do first. I turn on the light, and she blinks and covers her eyes with her arm.

“Sorry,” I say.

I move around her, figuring the priority is getting a fire going. Then she steps into the living room, and I notice her dress once more. Ruined. Her hair is disheveled, and her face is dirty from all the blood, and grime, and tears. I need to run her a bath. No, fire first. She can’t take a bath in this freezing cold.

“Make yourself comfortable.” I motion at the simple sofa and the two armchairs. They’re a bit beaten up, but what can I do? “I’ll go bring some firewood. I’ll be right outside. There’s nothing to be afraid of, okay? They can’t get to you here, trust me. No one knows about this place.”

She looks at me just like before, on the helicopter, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. She sits down, finally, and I let out a breath of relief. She is strange.

No, I shouldn’t judge her. She’s just gone through something unspeakable. The sort of trauma that will never heal, no matter how many years she might spend in therapy when she goes back to her world.

“Here,” I say, grabbing a blanket and draping it over her shoulders.

She hugs it close to her body, wrapping herself in it, and I quickly step away, because I can’t believe this exquisite creature is perusing something of mine. I go outside to grab some firewood from the shed in the back, and now that there’s some distance between me and her, my brain is starting to function again.

What am I doing here? Why have I brought her here? She doesn’t even have any clothes, except the dress on her back, which I’ll have to wash while she’s taking a bath, and then hope I can dry by the fire in time. Which won’t happen, because... physics. What will she wear, then? I have no human clothes. Just a couple of very old, very big T-shirts. At least they’re not really worn. I got them all from my colleagues at Monster Security Agency, and one of them has the MSA logo on it. It’s their inside joke – gifting me T-shirts, hoping one day they’ll shame me into wearing them.

Food! There’s some in the pantry, but it’s boring, bland stuff. I can cook. Oh, who am I kidding? Most times, not even I can eat the food I cook.

I let out a groan and drop the firewood. I curl within myself and cover my face with my paws, letting out a string of whispered curses. This was a bad idea. And I knew it was a bad idea! I tried to get out of it, but neither Artie, nor Lucia would have it!

And what am I going to do when Ysella, naturally, starts ovulating? My nose isn’t trained enough to tell me what stage of her cycle she’s in. I know that Yetis – mated Yetis – can tell with their wives. I’ve just met Ysella, and I don’t know how her body functions.

Is it realistic to hope her brother will win the war before that happens? Probably not.

I should’ve said no. I mean I should’ve said no more firmly. Drawn boundaries and stuck to them. But who the hell can say no to Lucia Arrieta? She’s very good at her job, and I respect her too much. So much, that I can’t tell her I go berserk from time to time. That once in a while, the rage I was born with bubbles up to the surface, spills over, and I see red. When a female is involved, that rage mingles with passion and a lust like no other, and all I want is to mate. My brain shuts off. There’s no rationalizing it. I need to be inside that woman, and I need to fill her with my seed.

This is insane. They’ve entrusted Ysella to the wrong monster.

I pull myself together. This is not the time for a breakdown. Ysella is waiting for me, wrapped in my blanket, shaking from the cold. It’s dark out here. I don’t need to switch on the light in the shed, as I see perfectly in the dark. I pick up the firewood and walk into the crisp air. I can see lights in the distance, to my right and to my left – the two Yeti villages I hope will not give me grief. As long as the males don’t know about Ysella’s existence and don’t catch a whiff of her, we should be fine.

I hurry back to the cabin and shake the snow off my boots before going in. She is right where I left her, looking around her with curious eyes. She doesn’t seem to be bothered by the simple furniture and lack of decorations. But what do I know? I have no clue what this woman is thinking. She hasn’t said a word since I met her. I’m starting to wonder if she can talk at all.

No. Wait. For real. Can she talk?

I leave my boots in the tiny entry hall and cross the living room under her watchful gaze. Should I ask her? But what if it’s a sensitive topic? How do you ask someone if they’re mute or not? I have zero experience with such things. Better focus on making the fire, or she’ll freeze to death, and then her not talking to me – or at all – will be the least of my worries.

“I will make you something to eat,” I say, once the fire gets going. “But I was thinking you might want to take a bath first. I’ll heat up some water. There’s a tub, and if it’s big enough for me, then it’s big enough for you.” I give her a tentative smile, hoping my bad joke will lighten the mood. She regards me with her signature mix of fixation and curiosity, and I swallow heavily and nod like an idiot. “Right. I will... get to doing that.”

In the bathroom, I make a second fire in the small stove that’s attached to the tub. I turn on the faucet, let the cold water fill the tub, and the fire slowly heats it up. I have running water and electricity, but heat and hot water have to be achieved through an old-fashioned fire. It’s a bit cumbersome, as I myself have gotten used to the luxuries of the civilized world, but it’s not like I use this cabin a lot. Coming here twice a year and doing everything by hand is almost romantic.

I test the water, and it seems fine to me, but again, my skin is definitely thicker than Ysella’s porcelain skin, so I might be wrong. I fetch her from the living room, and as she walks behind me, I can tell she’s regained some of her composure. She’s still in shock, but she doesn’t need my hand on her lower back to support her anymore. Her bare feet pad softly on the carpeted floor, and I can’t help but stare at her perfect, tiny toes.

Oh, the little things about her that make my stupid heart hammer in my furry chest.

“I will... um...” My own voice sounds weird to me, so I clear my throat. “I’ll leave you to it. If you leave your dress just outside the door, I’ll wash it for you. And I’ll go look for something you can wear.”

She doesn’t say anything, so I step out and slowly close the door. I’m tempted to tell her to call out if she needs anything, or if something goes wrong, but the issue of her not having spoken a word so far holds me back. How do I navigate this? What even is... this?

I retreat into the kitchen, quickly ransack the pantry, and turn on the stove. At least for this one, I have a gas tank that I refill regularly. Now, what can I make that won’t be embarrassingly inedible? I can cook pretty decent pasta... Pasta it is.

While the water is boiling, I go check if she’s left her dress by the door. She has, so I snatch it and find a basin that I can fill with cold water. I know for a fact that cold water works better than hot water at removing blood stains. It’s science or something, but I know from experience. And experience is better than science. Or are they the same?

Okay, I’m going in circles again. It’s imperative to distract myself from the fact that there’s a naked Ysella bathing in my rudimentary bathroom. At least the cabin is clean. I always clean it before returning to the city. Washing her dress and making pasta at the same time does the trick. The effort of multitasking is great enough that I don’t hear her when she steps into the kitchen.

I hear the chair she knocks over, though, when she trips on a bump in the carpet. I look up, and there she is, wearing only a towel. My jaw drops. The towel is big enough to cover her from underneath her armpits to her ankles, but my stupid brain knows she’s naked under it.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I forgot... I forgot to bring you something to wear.”

Damn it. Males really can’t multitask. I hurry past her, scrambling out of the room, trying to ignore the scent of her clean skin and luscious hair. The stench of death is gone, and all that’s left is... her. Beautiful and pure. And so sweet that I could easily sink my teeth into her as I...

Stop. Stop it, Kaelthar!

Good God, this was a huge mistake, I think to myself as I rummage through the only dresser in the only bedroom. She’ll have the bedroom, of course, with the Yeti-sized bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.

Or more like, I’ll dream about her on the couch as I try to ignore the stiffest, most engorged, painful erection I’ve had in my life.