Page 14 of Horned to be Wild (Harmony Glen #7)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

L ila woke just before daybreak, restless and achy.

She’d spent another night dreaming of Torin, of the way his big, gentle hands stroked her skin and the taste of his mouth on hers.

But with any luck this was the last morning she’d wake up frustrated and alone.

A smile played on her lips as she remembered the heated kisses in his truck, the promise of more in his rough, desire-laden voice.

He still might not be ready , she reminded herself.

But every part of her hummed with anticipation as she showered and dressed.

She chose a sheer black bra and a matching thong, even though it was the most uncomfortable set she owned.

Hopefully I won’t be wearing it long . She covered them with a simple cotton dress that drifted flatteringly around her curves.

Then she started on breakfast and the scent of fresh pancakes and bacon soon filled the air.

After placing everything in the oven to keep warm, she wandered aimlessly around her house.

She tried picking up her sketchbook but she couldn’t concentrate.

It was mid-morning before she finally accepted that he wasn’t coming.

Had he misunderstood? Did he think she was coming to him instead? Or had his fears been too much for him?

After a long debate with herself, she headed down the now-familiar path to his cabin, rehearsing casual phrases that wouldn’t betray her concerns.

But as soon as she arrived, she knew something was wrong. The workshop windows were shuttered, the door firmly closed. No smoke curled from the chimney. The clearing was utterly silent.

“Torin?” She knocked on the heavy door of the cabin, waiting for his familiar shuffling footsteps, the slight hesitation before he’d open it.

Nothing.

She knocked again, louder this time. “Torin, are you there?”

Silence answered her, thick and disquieting.

A cold weight settled in her stomach. Surely after yesterday—the project, their shared triumph, those heated kisses—surely he wouldn’t just…disappear?

She pressed her forehead against the rough wood of his door, confusion giving way to a sharp sting of hurt. After everything they’d shared, after how close they’d grown, how could he withdraw now?

“Fine,” she muttered, stepping back. “If that’s how you want it.”

But the hurt followed her all the way back to her cottage, a persistent ache that wouldn’t subside.

She tried once again to work on her sketches, but when she opened the book, the sight of the murals only deepened her ache. He’d poured his soul into that work, and it showed. She traced a fingertip along the intricately carved vines of the Little Prince’s planet.

“What went wrong?” she whispered to the empty room.

By mid-afternoon, she’d had enough of her own company. She grabbed her purse and headed into town, telling herself she needed groceries and art supplies. Not that she was hoping to run into a certain tall, horned figure on the street.

Harmony Glen’s streets were bustling with the usual mix of humans and monsters. She scanned the bakery, the hardware store, the coffee shop—any place he might have business, even though she knew he rarely spent any time in town.

A group of children waved excitedly from across the street.

“Miss Lila! We love the magic doors!” one shouted, while another mimed opening a doorway with exaggerated gestures, making the others laugh.

She waved back, her smile genuine despite her mood. At least the project had been a success. The children’s joy was real, even if Torin’s feelings for her weren’t.

Her wandering eventually led her to Bloom & Vine, but she hesitated outside the door. It wasn’t fair to burden a new friend with her troubles. She decided to go home and wait for Etta to be free instead, but just as she turned away the door opened and Marigold appeared.

“I thought it was you out here…” Marigold’s welcoming smile faded. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

To her horror, she burst into tears.

Marigold gently drew her into the shop, locking the door behind them and turning the sign on the door to Closed .

“You don’t have to do that,” she protested weakly, but her friend ignored her, leading her back through the shop to a small sitting area.

“Have a seat while I make us some tea. Maybe with a shot of brandy in it.” Marigold patted her hand. “Or maybe we’ll skip the tea and go straight to the brandy.”

But she came back with two steaming mugs and a plate of shortbread cookies.

“So what’s happened? I heard about the library…”

“The library was wonderful,” she said, her lip quivering. “It was afterwards.”

“What did Torin do?” Marigold asked fiercely, and she gave the other woman a shocked look.

“What makes you think he’s involved?”

Marigold rolled her eyes. “Everyone in town seems to think he’s the mysterious wood carver. Not to mention the fact that he actually showed up long enough to take you away with him. It’s a small town, sweetie,” she added gently. “Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”

“But he doesn’t think anyone knows about his carving.”

“Well, he’s wrong. What happened?”

“Are people saying that we’ve been… seeing each other?” she asked hesitantly.

“That seems to be the consensus. And now I want to know why that makes you sad.”

“Something went wrong. Yesterday I thought he was ready to take the next step, but then he stood me up for breakfast this morning. He wouldn’t answer the door when I went to his cabin, either. I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

Marigold hummed thoughtfully.

“You know his high school sweetheart abandoned him, don’t you?”

“He mentioned it, but how did you know?”

“I’m in the weekly knitting circle. Those women know everything there is to know about this town.

I’m pretty sure that at least two of them are actual witches.

Anyway, they said it hurt him very badly, especially since it was only a year after he lost his father.

From all accounts he wasn’t much of a father but it had just been the two of them since he was a child. ”

“I didn’t realize that the two things happened so close together.”

Marigold nodded sadly. “They said he was never the same. No one’s really seen him with a woman since then. But now he’s been with you. And he’s let you see his wood carvings, which he’s been secretive about since he started.”

“Even though everyone in town seems to know about them,” she said dryly.

“Exactly. And you broke through all those walls he put up. My guess is he’s running scared. Sometimes it’s easier to run away from the chance of happiness than face the possibility of being hurt again.”

Something in the other woman’s tone made her suspect that this wasn’t just secondhand knowledge. The pain in her friend’s voice made her heart ache, but she wasn’t going to pry. Instead, she returned to the question that had been haunting her since she’d discovered the closed cabin.

“What should I do?”

“I’m not sure. But I think the first step is to decide whether you love him or not—for his sake as much as yours. If you don’t, let him be. But if you do… then perhaps you need to be the one to break down his walls before he builds them so high he’s locked away forever.”

The sky had darkened ominously by the time she returned home, heavy clouds rolling in from the west. She put away her groceries, attempting to channel her restless energy into cleaning, but Marigold’s words kept running through her mind.

Did she love Torin? Of course I do. She might not have admitted it to herself until now, but the truth had been there for a long time.

She loved him. She loved his strength, his kindness, his gentleness, his incredible art.

The way his smile softened his features.

The way he was so fiercely protective of his privacy, yet opened his home to a little goat. And to me .

The truth of it settled into her bones, but what was she going to do about it? Could she find a way to reach him, to convince him that she wasn’t going to abandon him? Was her love enough to break through the walls that he’d been building for so long?

She tried to channel her confusion into painting, but her heart wasn’t in it. Every stroke felt forced, every color wrong. After ruining a third attempt, she threw down her brush in frustration.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling her windows with growing insistence. The first fat drops of rain began to fall as dusk crept in, tapping against the roof like impatient fingers.

She curled up on her couch with a book, but ended up just staring at the page as the storm grew in intensity, rain lashing against the windows, thunder rolling across the sky.

The old cottage creaked and groaned under the assault, the wind finding every gap and crack in the aging structure, and she shivered.

The cottage must have been through hundreds of storms, she told herself. There was no reason to think it wouldn’t make it through this one. Then a particularly violent gust shook the entire building. The lights flickered once, twice, and then died, plunging the cottage into darkness.

“Perfect,” she muttered, but she could hear her voice shaking.

She grabbed her phone but there was no signal.

Of course not . At least she could use the flashlight app to make her way back to the kitchen.

She searched for candles as the storm continued to rage outside.

Every flash of lightning, every rumble of thunder seemed to draw closer, until the cottage itself was trembling under the fury of the tempest. A sudden, deafening crash came from the front of the house, followed by the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass.

Heart in her throat, she rushed back to the living room. Rain and wind howled through a jagged hole where her window had been. A massive branch had punched through the glass, bringing with it a torrent of rainwater and debris. Shards of glass glittered everywhere in the light from her phone.

For a moment, she stood frozen, watching rainwater pool on her floor, soaking into her rug.

The reality of her situation crashed over her—she was alone in a damaged cottage with no power with a violent storm raging outside.

She couldn’t stay here, but there was only one place she could think to go, one person who would help her, despite everything.

Torin .

She hurried into her boots, and dropped her phone in a clear plastic bag. Her winter clothes were still in storage but she wrapped a heavy blanket around her shoulders and took a deep breath before plunging out into the storm.

The rain slammed into her, instantly soaking through her clothes, and wind tore at the blanket, threatening to rip it from her grasp. The weak light from her phone barely penetrated the curtain of water as she stumbled forward, following the path to his cabin more from memory than sight.

The woods felt strange and unfamiliar in the storm, branches whipping wildly and the ground turned to slick mud that threatened to pull her boots from her feet with each step. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the twisted shapes of trees, making monsters of the shadows.

She was shivering violently, but she kept moving. She’d never felt so small, so vulnerable. Each step was a battle against the elemental fury surrounding her.

“Torin,” she whispered desperately, his name lost in the howling wind.

Another flash of lightning revealed the path ahead—and a massive horned figure hurrying towards her.

He’d come for her.