Page 25 of Just Right (The Beasts of Blackmoor #3)

Finn’s slightly lovesick gaze—the same expression he has whenever he’s around me—snaps into a predatory snarl.

Colt drops an open-mouthed kiss to the side of my neck, then eases me off of his lap.

Once he’s on his feet, he guides me back to the chair, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he looks up for Rowan.

Rowan, though?

He’s already gone.

Still in his human form, there’s no other way to describe his gait than lumbering.

That’s what he’s doing as he makes for the cabin’s front door.

He lumbers, a sure sign that his bear is ready to explode out of his skin.

Colt high-tails it right behind him, with Finn gesturing for me to stay in the kitchen before chasing his twin.

I know better than to venture out into the forest on my own.

It’s a miracle I made it to the cabin in the first place without running into any of the other monsters that lurk in the shadows.

I even convinced myself that the town council had oversold the dangers—and then I watched Rowan battle a massive wolf while searching for some sign of Charlotte.

The farthest I’ve gone since is the river for a little skinny-dipping with my mates before the winter chill has made that impossible.

For the last few weeks, I haven’t even left the porch due to the constant snowfalls.

It’s just too damn cozy inside, and with any one of the three brothers ready to entertain me whenever I need entertaining, I’m happy getting to be a homebody again.

Of course, I’m just as interested to know who is approaching our cabin as my bears are. For reasons I’ll never be able to explain—Fate! Magic! Straight up luck!—I found the cabin fairly easily myself, but we haven’t had another visitor since I let myself in.

Plus, I trust my guys. As bears or lumberjacks, using their claws or grabbing one of the axes off the wall, Rowan, Colt, and Finn will protect me. Whoever is out there will never get past the front door with me tucked away inside the cabin so there’s no reason for me to hide out in the kitchen.

I join them in the living room just as Rowan yanks open the door.

I’d bet that my overprotective mate was ready to march out into the night, prepared to find whoever was approaching the cabin and send them away before they got any closer.

Rowan confessed that the reason why that wolf attacked him so ferociously was because he’d picked up on scent markings, realized they were territorial warnings, but kept going so that he didn’t disappoint me by turning back so quickly.

Predators know what to expect when they challenge other predators.

His only regret was that I was there to witness it.

This is his territory. Our territory. Rowan seems ready to defend it, only stopping in time to keep from bulldozing over the slight figure standing on the porch.

I only notice that someone is there because Rowan draws back, then pulls himself to his full height.

My angle in the living room gives me the chance to spy the much smaller person wrapped up in a heavy, deep red cloak.

The hood is up, stray flurries clinging to the material.

It shadows the face of whoever has braved the recent snowstorm to arrive at our cabin.

A pair of gloved hands reach up, grabbing the hood. Without saying a word, they remove the hood, revealing?—

I gasp.

Charlotte .

She looks exactly the same as I remember. Pale skin. Freckles dotting her nose. Vivid green eyes and ruby red hair that cascades down her back now that the hood is down. It’s been four years, but the beautiful woman I’m looking at hasn’t aged a day.

Like she’s been in Blackmoor like I suspected.

Like the magic welcomed her, and now she has her forever, too.

Because she decided to stay with?—

Finn is suddenly at my side. He throws an arm around my shoulders, the protective gesture obvious.

Colt moves so that he’s standing just behind Rowan, backup if his older brother needs it.

And that’s because Rowan is rumbling loudly, a warning of his own, as another, larger figure appears from the gloam.

Larger… it… he is close to seven feet tall even as somewhat hunched as he is.

His body is big, yet twisted, with patches of fur covering his shoulders and his chest. He’s wearing a pair of linen pants that are ragged and torn, though they do the job, covering anything important.

His nails— claws —are longer than mine when I have a fresh set on.

And his teeth…

What big teeth you have …

Rowan’s shoulders widen, his bear making itself known as he attempts to block the door. And I say attempt because, despite my sudden trepidation at seeing this… this wolf-man out of some kind of a horror flick, that’s nothing compared to my instincts telling me to go to my friend.

To save her from the creature at her back? To show myself that, after four years of worrying about what happened to her, she’s really standing there? I’m not sure, but before Finn can grab me, I sweep past Colt, then shimmy next to Rowan so that I’m standing right in front of Charlotte.

Rowan doesn’t try to push me behind him. Instead, he tucks me into his side like his youngest brother tried. Still, his message is clear: to get to me, they would have to go through him.

I appreciate the gesture, but I’m too busy gaping at Charlotte to do anything other than let my mate clutch me so tightly. Especially since the monster in front of me is doing the same to her.

“Char? Is that… is that really you?”

“Hey, Goldie.” She gives me an impish Charlotte Linden smile, reaching behind her so she can lay her hand on the wolf-man’s arm, tethering him to her. “Long time no see.”