Page 15 of Horned to be Wild (Harmony Glen #7)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T orin had been in his workshop when the storm struck, sanding a piece of wood with short, angry strokes, trying to find some sense of normality amidst his tangled thoughts.

The storm had begun as a low grumble of thunder, and he’d ignored it.

He’d worked through worse weather. But the rising wind rattled the shutters, and the thunder grew closer, louder.

Lightning flashed, bright enough to shine through the cracks in the shutters.

He locked everything down, then carried a shivering Mabel back to his cabin.

Thunder crashed overhead, rattling the windows of his cabin. The storm was vicious, trees bending almost to breaking point in the howling wind, and he paced restlessly back and forth, trying to convince himself that Lila was fine. She was an adult. Resourceful. Independent.

But the moment the power went out, his carefully constructed walls crumbled like rotten wood.

All his resolve to stay away from her, all his certainty that she’d be better off without him—vanished in an instant.

She was alone in the old cottage with the ancient wiring and the siding he hadn’t finished repairing, surrounded by massive old trees…

“Damn it,” he growled. He placed a couple of battery-powered lanterns around the cabin, then grabbed his heavy oilskin coat from its hook by the door. Mabel bleated anxiously from her pen in the corner.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

The storm slammed into him the moment he stepped outside.

Rain lashed his face, soaking through his fur almost instantly but he ducked his head and kept going.

He was halfway to the cottage when lightning flashed, harshly illuminating the forest in front of him—and illuminating Lila, a small, fragile figure, struggling through the storm towards him.

Ignoring the stinging rain and the wind whipping through the trees, he charged towards her, closing the distance between them in a few long strides. Lightning flashed again, illuminating her pale, rain-soaked face, her eyes wide with relief.

“Torin,” she gasped, her voice nearly lost in the wind.

He pulled her against him, using his body to shelter her from the worst of the rain. She felt cold, too cold, her clothes soaked through.

“Are you all right?” he demanded.

“Y-yes, but the c-cottage. Window. Branch.” Her words were choppy, teeth chattering. “Glass everywhere.”

The image of her alone in that shattered cottage filled him with horror. He should have been there. Should have protected her.

“Come with me,” he said simply, and swept her up into his arms.

She immediately curled against him as he cradled her close to his chest, shielding her from the rain with his broad shoulders as he carried her back to his cabin.

Mabel was waiting when he pushed the door open, bleating anxiously when she saw Lila.

“She’ll be fine.”

He set her gently on her feet, then stripped the sodden blanket away from her and tossed it aside.

His eyes swept over her, checking for injuries.

Her hair was plastered to her skull, her clothes clinging to her trembling body.

A small cut on her cheek had already stopped bleeding, but the sight of it made his chest tighten.

If that branch had gone through a window closer to her…

Her hands shook, her skin cold and clammy. He needed to get her warm. He built up the fire in the fireplace, then toweled her down briskly before placing her on the rug in front of the fire and wrapping a blanket around her trembling shoulders.

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” she said, her teeth chattering, and his heart did a funny little flip. After everything she’d been through, she was worried about him?

“Not yet,” he said grimly. “I need to board up that window before the storm causes any more damage.”

“You can’t go back out there!”

“I won’t be long,” he promised. “Will you be all right by yourself?”

Her lips were trembling, but she nodded.

“Brave girl.” He bent down long enough to brush his lips against hers before heading back out into the storm.

The branch had smashed through her living room window and he shuddered when realized how easily it could have fallen on her.

He didn’t have time to clean up the damage but he boarded up the window with the leftover wood from their work on the porch.

It was temporary, but it would keep out the worst of the rain.

Back in his cabin, he found her exactly where he’d left her, huddled in front of the fire, still shivering. She looked so small, so vulnerable, that his chest ached.

“You need dry clothes,” he said gruffly.

He disappeared into his bedroom, returning with a soft flannel shirt that would hang like a dress on her small frame, then left her to change while he went to strip off his own wet clothes. When he returned, he joined her in front of the fire.

“I boarded up the window,” he told her. “The rest can be fixed once the storm is over.”

She nodded, her brown eyes reflecting the dancing firelight.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Despite everything—his coldness, his withdrawal, his fear—she had run to him when she needed safety.

To him. He wanted to tell her she belonged here, with him, but his throat was too tight, his emotions too raw.

He’d been so determined to protect himself from her that he’d failed to protect her. If anything had happened to her…

He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her damp hair, his chest so tight he could barely breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry.”

She snuggled closer, her hands cold even through the thick fabric of his shirt. “It’s not your fault. And you were coming for me, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He closed his eyes, holding her as if she might be ripped from his arms at any moment. “I should have been there to protect you.”

She shifted, turning to face him, her eyes searching his face. “What were you protecting yourself from? Me?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. What could he say? That he’d run from the possibility of happiness because he was afraid of losing it?

He couldn’t lie to her, not after what she’d been through, not when she was here, in his home, in his arms.

He swallowed hard. “Myself. I was afraid of hurting you, but I was also afraid of being hurt.”

She was silent, and his stomach twisted. Had he revealed too much? Would she laugh at his fears, or dismiss them?

But her expression was serious as she met his eyes. “You’re afraid that I’ll leave.”

“Everyone has always left.” He couldn’t hide the bitter edge in his voice. “Why would you be different?”

“Because I love you, you big, stubborn minotaur.” Her voice shook with emotion, but her gaze never wavered. “You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’m here, with you, and that’s not changing.”

She loves me? His chest ached with a sudden, desperate hope, his throat tightening until he thought he couldn’t draw another breath.

“Say something,” she whispered. “Or I’ll think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“No, no,” he choked out. “Not a mistake.”

His ability to speak failed him. Having her in his arms, so small and vulnerable yet somehow still strong, made all his fears about losing her seem suddenly insignificant.

She was here. Now. And he wanted her with an intensity that terrified him.

He cupped her face, her skin impossibly soft against his calloused palms.

“Lila,” he whispered, and then he kissed her. He poured everything he couldn’t say into his kiss—an apology for his withdrawal and a promise for the future.

She responded instantly, her arms winding around his neck, the blanket falling forgotten to the floor. Her small hands tangled in his damp hair, fingertips brushing the base of his horns, sending electric shivers down his spine.

He groaned against her mouth, his hands roaming her body through the thin flannel, relishing the softness, the curves that haunted his dreams. She was warm now, alive and responsive in his arms.

“I thought—” he murmured between desperate kisses, “—I thought I should stay away from you.”

“You were wrong,” she gasped, nipping at his lower lip.

The sensation sent a bolt of desire straight through him. He stood, lifting her with him, her legs wrapping automatically around his waist.

“I’m taking you to bed,” he growled, and she nodded frantically, pulling him back down for another searing kiss as he carried her up the stairs into his bedroom.

He laid her down on his bed, and paused for a moment to just stare at her.

She was beautiful, her hair spread out in a dark halo against his pillows, her eyes wide and trusting, her lips parted and pink from his kisses.

The shirt had fallen open, revealing a tantalizing expanse of skin and the generous curves that had been driving him mad for weeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered reverently.

Her eyes softened, and she held out her arms to him. Instead he knelt on the floor next to the bed and pulled her towards him.

“What are you- oh!” Her question turned into a gasp as his mouth found the inside of her thigh, nuzzling and licking his way towards the apex. She was already wet and ready for him, her sweet musky scent flooding his senses.

She moaned his name as he licked a broad stripe up her center.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her hips arching into him, and he groaned at the taste of her on his tongue, hot and sweet and perfect.

He explored her with slow, deliberate strokes, learning her, teasing her, until her body tensed under him, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Then he closed his lips around her clit and slid one thick finger inside her, feeling her tighten around him, her body shaking as he worked her through her orgasm.

Only when she collapsed, boneless and panting, did he withdraw, licking her sweetness from his finger.

One finger. He’d only had one finger inside her and she was already stretched tight.

How was she ever going to take his cock?

She’s taken two of my fingers , he reminded himself before the familiar fear could take hold. He would just have to prepare her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, her eyes soft and dazed from her orgasm, and the sight filled him with pleasure. He’d put that look on her face. Him.

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re perfect.”

She laughed. “I’m most definitely not perfect. Now come here.”

He took a deep breath and climbed up on the bed beside her.

“You’re still dressed,” she murmured, her small fingers teasing the waistband of his sweatpants and making him shiver.

“I think it’s best.”

“Why?”

“We need to take it slowly.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” The question was half amused, half exasperated. “I want to see you.”

She tugged at his waistband, sliding the fabric over his cock, then stopped abruptly when it sprang free.

“Oh,” she said in a strangled tone. “Oh, my.”

“Now do you understand why we need to take it slowly?”

He reached down and tugged his pants the rest of the way off, tossing them to the floor, then returned to his position next to her. She stared at him, her eyes wide, and he resisted the urge to cover himself.

“I’m too big for you.”

“You’re too big for anyone.” She swallowed. “Are you sure that’s even real?”

He couldn’t resist. “Want to find out?”

She slapped his arm. “Stop joking. This is serious. How am I ever going to—” she gestured with a helpless little movement.

“By being thoroughly, completely prepared.” He did his best to sound confident despite his own doubts.

“I’m pretty sure there’s no preparing for that,” she said faintly, but her eyes never left his cock.

“Touch me,” he growled. “Please, Lila.”

She reached out, her touch tentative at first, her fingertips trailing delicately over his skin, exploring him, exploring the wide shaft and lingering over the bulge in the middle.

“How does that feel?” she asked.

“Good.” His voice was hoarse. “So damn good. More. Please.”

She tried to wrap her hand around him, her fingers small and cool on his heated skin, and a shudder ran through his entire body. He groaned as she started stroking him, sliding her hand up his shaft and curving it over the tip.

“Like this?” she whispered.

“Yes. Just like that.” His hips jerked involuntarily, and he thrust into her hand. “Fuck, Lila.”

She made a satisfied noise, her hand moving faster, more confidently, and his balls tightened as pleasure built. He wanted to make it last but it had been too long and he was already too close.

“Lila,” he choked out. “I’m going to?—”

“Yes. Come for me.” Her voice was low and breathless, her eyes locked on his cock, and that was all it took to send him over the edge, his hips bucking as he came, the hot fluid covering her hand and her breasts and his stomach.

“Fuck.” It took him a long moment to come down from his climax, and when he did he immediately regretted his lack of control. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I wanted to make you feel good.”

“You succeeded.”

He left her long enough to fetch a towel and clean her up before returning to bed and pulling the quilt up over them.

She was already half asleep as he turned the lantern to low.

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair once more.

The rain lashed at the windows, the storm still raging outside, but inside his cabin, it was warm, and safe, and she was in his arms. And she loved him.