Page 4 of Hunted by the Mountain Man (Darkmore Mountain Men #5)

four

Cole

The secondary position is everything the main cabin wasn't—stark, functional, built for defense rather than comfort. Carved deeper into the mountainside with reinforced walls and multiple escape routes, it's where I planned to make my final stand if my past ever caught up with me.

I never imagined I'd be defending someone else.

"This is incredible," Anna says, exploring the space while I activate the monitoring systems. "How long did this take you to build?"

"Two years, working mostly at night." I check the displays showing heat signatures moving through the forest below. "Paranoia has its benefits."

"This isn't paranoia—this is strategic planning." She runs her fingers along the stone walls, and I find myself watching the graceful movement of her hands. "You're not hiding up here, Cole. You're preparing for war."

The way she understands what this place represents, what it means about my mindset—it catches me off guard. Anna Rice sees things others miss.

"Costa's men?" she asks, noting my attention on the tactical display.

"Eight of them, moving in a standard search pattern. They'll find the main cabin within the hour." I adjust the monitoring frequencies. "Question is whether they're smart enough to look for secondary positions."

"Are they?"

I study the heat signatures, noting their movement patterns and communication discipline. "They're persistent, I'll give them that. But they're making mistakes—staying too close together, following obvious paths, not accounting for how sound carries in mountain terrain."

"Street fighters," Anna observes, echoing my earlier assessment.

"Exactly. Dangerous in urban environments, but out of their element here." I turn from the displays to find her watching me with an expression I can't quite read. "What?"

"You're different when you're in tactical mode. More... intense."

"Is that a problem?"

"No." Her voice is softer now, and something in her tone makes me look at her more closely. "It's actually reassuring. Makes me feel safe."

The simple admission hits me harder than it should. When did someone else's sense of safety become so important to me?

I move to the small wood stove in the corner, needing something to do with my hands. "Storm's supposed to continue through tomorrow. That works in our favor—limits their mobility and air support."

"Air support?"

"Helicopters can't fly in these conditions. Forces them to hunt on foot." I build a fire with practiced efficiency, but I'm hyperaware of Anna moving around the space behind me. "Evens the odds considerably."

The fire catches, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. This position was designed for function, not comfort, but somehow Anna's presence transforms it into something more intimate.

"Cole." Her voice is quiet, uncertain. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I stand, dusting off my hands.

"Last night, when you said I was yours..." She meets my eyes directly. "Did you mean it?"

The question hangs between us, loaded with more than simple curiosity. I study her face in the firelight, noting the way her dark eyes reflect the flames, the slight tremor in her hands that has nothing to do with cold.

"What do you think?" I ask instead of answering directly.

"I think you're a man who doesn't say things he doesn't mean." She steps closer, close enough that I can smell the faint floral scent of her hair. "I think three years of isolation doesn't make someone possessive by accident."

"Anna..." I start, but she cuts me off.

"I think you meant it. And I think that scares you as much as it scares me."

She's right. Christ, she's completely right, and the fact that she can read me so clearly should terrify me. Instead, it's drawing me in like a moth to flame.

"It should scare you," I tell her honestly. "I haven't been around people in three years. Haven't cared about anyone's wellbeing but my own. I don't know how to be... gentle."

"I'm not asking you to be gentle." Her hand finds my chest, palm flat against my heartbeat. "I'm asking you to be honest."

The simple touch ignites something in me that I've kept carefully buried since she stumbled into my life. Three years of forced isolation, of denying myself human connection, comes crashing down as Anna looks at me like I'm something worth having.

"You want honesty?" My hand covers hers, pressing it more firmly against my chest. "Here's honest—I haven't wanted anything as much as I want you since before I came to these mountains. And it's not just physical."

"What else?"

"You make me remember what it felt like to have something worth protecting. Someone worth fighting for." My other hand cups her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. "That's dangerous for both of us."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not good at half-measures, Anna. When I care about something, I claim it. I protect it. I don't let it go." My voice drops to a rough whisper. "And I'm already caring about you more than is smart."

Something shifts in her expression—fear melting into something that looks like relief.

"Thank God," she breathes. "I thought I was losing my mind."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've been in survival mode for two years. Haven't thought about anything except staying alive, staying hidden. And then you pull me out of that snow, and suddenly..." She trails off, shaking her head.

"Suddenly what?"

"Suddenly I'm not just trying to survive anymore. I'm trying to live." Her free hand finds my waist, fingers curling into my shirt. "And I want to live with you."

The admission breaks the last of my restraint. I capture her mouth with mine, pouring three years of loneliness and want into the kiss. She responds immediately, melting into me with a soft sound of surrender that goes straight to my head.

Her lips are soft, warm, perfect under mine. When her tongue touches mine tentatively, I groan, deepening the kiss and backing her against the stone wall. She fits perfectly in my arms, curves pressing against hard muscle, her hands exploring the breadth of my shoulders.

"Anna," I murmur against her mouth, my name for her rough with need.

"I know this is crazy," she whispers back, her lips moving against mine. "We barely know each other."

"Doesn't feel like barely knowing you." My hands span her waist, thumbs brushing the soft skin where my thermal shirt has ridden up. "Feels like I've been waiting for you my whole life."

She pulls back to look at me, eyes dark with desire and something deeper. "Cole..."

"Tell me to stop and I will," I say, even though it might kill me. "Tell me this is too fast, too much, and I'll back off."

"Don't you dare stop." Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer. "Don't you dare back off."

That's all the permission I need. I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the narrow cot in the corner. She's light in my arms, but the way she clings to me makes me feel like I could move mountains.

I lay her down carefully, following her onto the small bed and caging her with my arms. The firelight plays across her face, highlighting the trust in her dark eyes, the way her lips are swollen from my kisses.

"You're beautiful," I tell her, meaning it more than any compliment I've ever given. "So damn beautiful it hurts to look at you."

"Cole..." She reaches up to touch my face, fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "I need you to know something."

"What?"

"This isn't just adrenaline or gratitude or..." She struggles for words. "This is real. What I'm feeling for you is real."

"I know." I capture her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Because I'm feeling it too."

When I kiss her again, it's with all the emotion I've kept locked away for three years. Every protective instinct, every lonely night, every moment I thought I'd never feel human connection again.

Anna kisses me back with equal intensity, her body arching into mine like she can't get close enough. My hands explore her curves through the thermal shirt, learning the shape of her, committing every gasp and sigh to memory.

"Mine," I growl against her throat, the possessive word slipping out before I can stop it.

"Yes," she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Yours."

Outside, the storm continues to rage, and somewhere in the forest below, armed men are hunting us. But in this moment, with Anna warm and willing in my arms, none of that matters.

All that matters is claiming the woman who's brought me back to life.

All that matters is making sure she knows exactly who she belongs to now.

And making sure I never have to let her go.