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

five

Anna

I wake in Cole's arms to the sound of alarms shrieking through our hidden sanctuary. His body goes instantly alert beneath me, muscles coiling with trained readiness even as his arms tighten protectively around my naked form.

"How close?" I whisper, my lips against his throat.

Cole checks the tactical display from our position on the narrow cot, his free hand stroking my bare back in a gesture that's both comforting and possessive. "Quarter mile and closing. Eight heat signatures moving in coordinated sweep pattern."

Last night changed everything between us.

After our passionate claiming by the fireplace, Cole had carried me to the cot where we'd made love again—slower, deeper, learning each other's bodies with reverent attention.

I'd fallen asleep sprawled across his chest, feeling safer than I had in two years.

Now Costa's killers have found us.

"Time to move?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Past time." Cole sits up, the blanket falling away from his powerful torso. Even in crisis mode, I can't help admiring the play of muscle beneath scarred skin. "There's a bunker half a klick north. Better defensive position."

We dress quickly in efficient silence, but I catch Cole's eyes tracking my movements as I pull on the thermal clothing. The hunger in his gaze sends heat through me despite our circumstances.

"Focus, soldier," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"I am focused." His smile is sharp, predatory. "Focused on keeping you alive so I can get you naked again."

The blunt words make me flush, but there's something thrilling about seeing this side of Cole—the dangerous man beneath the gentle protector.

We slip out through the rear tunnel as voices echo from the main entrance. Costa's men have found our position, but they're too late. Cole leads me through passages carved into living rock, emergency lighting casting eerie shadows on stone walls.

"How many of these bolt-holes do you have?" I whisper.

"Enough." His hand finds mine in the darkness, strong fingers intertwining with mine. "I spent three years expecting the worst."

We emerge into daylight on a snow-covered ledge. The storm has passed, leaving crystalline air and visibility for miles. Below us, figures move through the forest—Costa's hunters, spread out but converging on our last known position.

"Damn," Cole mutters. "They brought more men."

I count twelve heat signatures on his handheld scanner. "I thought you said eight."

"Reinforcements arrived during the night." Cole shoulders his pack, expression grim. "Costa's really committed to this."

"Can we reach the bunker unseen?"

"If we're smart and lucky." He checks his rifle, chambering a round. "Stay close, move when I move, stop when I stop. These guys are street fighters, but they're still dangerous."

We begin our careful descent, using terrain and vegetation for cover. Cole moves like a ghost through the landscape, and I try to match his silent grace despite my inferior training.

Halfway to our destination, everything goes wrong.

A shout echoes across the mountainside as one of the hunters spots us. Within seconds, the forest erupts with coordinated movement as they converge on our position.

"Run," Cole says, his voice deadly calm. "Straight north. Don't look back."

"What about you?"

"I'll slow them down." He's already moving into position behind a fallen tree, rifle rising to his shoulder. "Go!"

I run, crashing through underbrush with abandon as gunfire erupts behind me. Cole's rifle cracks with measured precision, and I hear shouts of confusion and pain from our pursuers. But there are too many of them, and he's just one man.

The bunker appears ahead—a cleverly concealed entrance built into a rock outcropping. I punch in the access code Cole gave me, and reinforced doors slide open to reveal another of his hidden sanctuaries.

Cole arrives thirty seconds later, moving fast with blood on his jacket sleeve.

"You're hit!" I grab for him as the doors seal behind us.

"Graze. I'm fine." But he lets me help him strip off the damaged jacket, revealing a shallow furrow across his left bicep. "They're better shots than I gave them credit for."

The bunker is smaller than his other positions but better fortified. Computer screens show thermal images of our pursuers spreading out around the perimeter, trying to find the entrance.

"Can they get in?" I ask, cleaning Cole's wound with supplies from his medical kit.

"Not easily. This place was designed to withstand military assault." He hisses as I apply antiseptic. "But they can wait us out."

"For how long?"

"Week, maybe two. Depends how patient they are and how much Costa's paying them."

I finish bandaging his arm, hyperaware of the way his muscles flex under my touch.

Even injured, even with killers surrounding us, I want him.

The adrenaline of our escape has transmuted into something else entirely—a desperate need to feel alive, to claim this connection before we might lose it forever.

"Anna." Cole's voice is rough, and when I look up, his eyes are dark with the same hunger coursing through me. "Come here."

I move between his legs where he sits on the edge of the equipment console, and his hands immediately find my waist, pulling me closer. The height difference puts us at perfect eye level.

"I could have lost you back there," he says, forehead resting against mine. "When I heard them shooting..."

"But you didn't lose me." My hands frame his face, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. "I'm right here."

"I know. But the thought of them getting their hands on you..." His grip tightens possessively. "I would have burned these entire mountains down to get you back."

The fierce declaration sends heat straight to my core. This is Cole unleashed—not the careful protector but the predator, the soldier, the man who takes what's his and keeps it safe.

"Show me," I breathe against his lips. "Show me I'm yours."

Something snaps in his expression. In one fluid motion, he lifts me onto the console, positioning himself between my thighs. His mouth crashes into mine with desperate hunger, all restraint abandoned in the wake of nearly losing each other.

"These clothes need to come off," he growls against my throat, his hands already working at the fastenings of my thermal gear. "Now."

I help him strip away the layers between us, desperate to feel his skin against mine. When his calloused palms close over my bare breasts, I arch into his touch with a gasp of pleasure.

"Perfect," he murmurs, lowering his head to capture one peaked nipple with his mouth. "So fucking perfect."

The crude words combined with his reverent touch make me moan, my hands fisting in his hair to hold him closer. He worships my breasts with lips and tongue and gentle teeth until I'm writhing against him, completely lost to sensation.

"Cole, please," I gasp, needing more, needing everything.

"Tell me what you want," he commands, lifting his head to meet my eyes. "Tell me exactly what you need."

"You," I breathe, my hands working frantically at his clothing. "Inside me. Now."

He helps me strip away his shirt and jeans, and when he's finally naked before me, I can't hold back a sound of pure appreciation. Cole Manning is magnificent—all lean muscle and controlled power, scars mapping a warrior's body.

"Like what you see?" he asks, noting my hungry stare.

"Love what I see." I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his impressive length. He's hard and hot and ready, and the way he groans at my touch makes me feel powerful despite our circumstances.

"Anna," he warns, his control visibly fraying. "If you keep doing that..."

"What?" I stroke him slowly, watching his eyes go dark. "You'll lose control?"

"I'll take you right here on this console like a man possessed." His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes." The word comes out as a desperate plea. "Please, Cole. I need you."

He positions himself at my entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against my slick heat. "Look at me," he commands. "I want to see your eyes when I take you."

I meet his gaze as he pushes inside me in one slow, devastating thrust. The stretch is exquisite, the fullness overwhelming, and I cry out at the perfect sensation of being completely claimed by this man.

"Mine," he growls, beginning to move with controlled power. "Say it."

"Yours," I gasp, my legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "Only yours."

What follows is unlike anything we shared before—raw, primal, desperate. Cole takes me with an intensity that borders on savage, and I meet him thrust for thrust, my nails raking across his shoulders as pleasure builds to impossible heights.

"That's it," he encourages, one hand finding my clit to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Come for me, Anna. Let me feel you come apart."

The combination of his relentless thrusts and skilled fingers pushes me over the edge. I shatter around him with a cry that echoes off the bunker walls, my body clenching rhythmically as waves of pleasure crash through me.

Cole follows moments later, his release triggered by my climax. He buries himself deep with a guttural groan, and I feel him pulse inside me as he marks me as thoroughly as possible.

We stay joined for long moments afterward, breathing hard, hearts racing in tandem. The computer screens around us continue monitoring our hunters, but for now, none of that matters.

"We're completely insane," I murmur against his throat, tasting salt and man.

"Probably." His hands stroke my back lazily, possessively. "Do you care?"

"Not even a little." I pull back to meet his eyes, seeing my own feelings reflected there. "This is real, isn't it? What's happening between us?"

"As real as it gets." He cups my face tenderly, the gentle touch at odds with the passion we just shared. "I love you, Anna. Against all logic and timing and common sense."

The declaration steals my breath. I've known it was building between us, but hearing him say it makes everything crystallize into perfect clarity.

"I love you too," I whisper, and watch something fierce and triumphant flare in his eyes. "Completely. Utterly. Forever."

He kisses me then, soft and sweet and full of promise. When we finally break apart, the reality of our situation intrudes—we're still trapped, still hunted, still fighting for our lives.

But we're facing it together now. And that changes everything.

"So what's our next move?" I ask, sliding off the console to retrieve our scattered clothes.

Cole's smile is sharp, predatory, completely confident. "We stop running and start hunting."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Costa's men made a mistake coming to my mountains." His eyes hold mine as he dresses with economical movements. "Time to remind them why that was a bad idea."

As we prepare for whatever comes next, I realize that somewhere between the desperate escape and the passionate claiming, we've moved beyond survival.

Now we're fighting for our future.