Beastly Mountain Man (Hot Mountain Nights #7)

1. June

June

The worst part about climbing this mountain? The endless sea of identical trees. Sure, if I squint, I can spot the differences—some bristling with pine needles, others flaunting jagged leaves—but in the fading light, they all blur into the same oppressive green.

That’s why I’m lost.

Every turn leads to another winding trail, another shadowed thicket.

My legs burn, but I can’t even tell if I’m ascending or just circling some cruel joke of a slope.

Fairland is supposed to be crawling with hikers—so where the heck are they?

At this point, I’d take anyone. A seasoned backpacker, a clueless tourist, or even some smug trail runner with too-short shorts.

Just… someone. Before the trees swallow me whole. At this rate, I feel like I’m about to be devoured.

I swipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, the scent of damp earth clinging to my skin like a perfume made of nature.

I need to take a seat and rest for a few minutes. Sure, it’s my third break in an hour, but my feet ache fiercely in shoes not made for this walk, and my thighs burn with every step.

Wearing shorts was an oversight I can now deeply regret—the fabric rides up, and the patch against my inner thighs is rubbing raw. I must look absurd, walking with this awkward, wide-legged gait, like someone navigating an invisible stream.

Once more, I accept that some people aren’t suited for nature. I’m putting my name at the top of the list. I’m crazy for thinking someone like me, someone born in the city, could suddenly say goodbye to their life and throw themselves at something so different.

Finding a stump with my name written all over it, I plop down and pull my phone out, my breath held for any difference from the last time I checked the device.

No new messages or calls. It might have something to do with the lack of signal. Ever since I started this climb, I lost it. At this rate, the device is going to die from searching for any hints of service.

Couldn’t call anyone to give me a ride up the mountain when my Uber shot down what was supposed to be an easy trip. I guess not everyone wants to put that kind of wear and tear on their vehicle.

Now look at me, taking my last shot of survival on the side of a freaking mountain by hiking for the first time in my entire life.

Sighing, I look down and take in the view of the small town. Despite my struggle, I’ve made quite a distance. If it were a normal day, I’d be proud of myself.

Eyeing my phone once more, I pull up my last contact. Taylor Bueller. Taking in a deep breath, I press the device to my ear and hope to hear it ring. Instead, just like the last time, it goes straight to voicemail.

“Hi, Mr. Bueller. June again. Not sure if you got my last voicemail, but I’m still hoping to arrive today. I really appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me!” Trying to sound positive, my voice cracks. “I hope to see you soon so we can finalize this job offer.”

Ending the call, I groan and hang my head in defeat.

I finally get a chance for my fresh start, an opportunity to plant my feet and stay somewhere concrete, and look what happens.

Kicking the stump with my heel out of frustration, I try my maps app once more, silently pleading with the mountain gods to cut me some freaking slack here.

I can’t even get the address I last put in to load up. So, if I do run across someone, I have to try to remember as best as I can. Before, I didn’t think it would be important to memorize it.

Guess that’s what I get for relying on technology so much. Now I’m feeling even more lost than before.

Taking in a deep breath, I steal a drink from my pack, pat my thighs, and get back up.

No more breaks. I need to find someone so I don’t let this golden opportunity slip from my fingers.

I push forward, ignoring the sun’s heat and the ache in my feet. My thighs continue to burn as I follow the fading trail. Is this even right? Maybe real hikers go off-trail. Maybe the only rule is up .

I’m already lost—what’s the harm in veering off? Maybe someone will catch a glimpse of me and call in a lost woman to the mountain rescuers. Something like this has to happen more often than not.

I leave the dirt path behind, stepping fully into the wild. The forest floor is a tangle of moss-covered logs and weathered boulders, each one slick with dampness. My footing grows uncertain, and with my luck, I’ll twist an ankle with one misstep.

But here, at least, the air is cooler. The sunlight filters weakly through the canopy of leaves, no longer a relentless glare, but something softer. Diffused. Almost forgiving.

“Hello?” Calling out in hopes someone will hear my voice, I get nothing in return but a few birds mocking me with their squawks. Sighing, I try again further up.

Above me, the birds suddenly scatter from the trees like there’s a threat nearby. Can’t possibly be me.

All at once, I remember the conversation I’d overheard at the grocery store while I was grabbing some equipment for this trip. While I was looking at sunscreen, I overheard a couple talking about the mountain. Particularly the beasts on it.

Not just bears and wolves, but some that sound like creatures created for horror stories.

Seven feet tall beasts that could easily eat up a person in one big bite.

I shiver, my steps slowing.

Now is not the time to start thinking about that.

This mountain is too popular for any hikers to go missing. Throw in my current state, I’m the least tasty-looking thing here. No creature wasn’t a snack this salty.

Once I’m blinking sweat from my eyes, I try my phone again.

No signal. The battery is definitely getting drained the longer I keep it on.

Letting out a frustrated growl, I bury my fingers in my hair. Where is everyone? Why haven’t I run into any cabins?

Twigs snap beneath my sneakers as my agitation swallows up my desperation.

The resolution to my problem is simple. I could go all the way back down, ask for help from one of the locals, and get to where I need to go. That is, if Taylor hasn’t already started looking for my replacement since I’m a bit late as it is.

A bit is a stretch. I should’ve been there a couple of hours ago. But hey, what can I do? My luck has never been too good, and by now, I’m at the point where I’m ready to give fate control of the wheel, because I’m unsure what to do with myself.

The sound of a distant crunch pulls me from my thoughts, and I’m yanking my head to the side so fast it makes me dizzy.

Mostly expecting to see an animal at this point, I’m surprised when I see what is a tall figure. Not a beast, but a person ! Has to be. Even if they’re a good three hundred feet away, I’m sure of it.

Relief floods me in a rush, and my foot slides against the grass as I move toward them. “Hey there!”

The figure must not be able to hear me because he keeps moving. Unfortunately, he’s fast.

I won’t lose them. No way.

After hiking as much as I already have, I’m in no shape to jog. That doesn’t stop me from trying. Thanks to adrenaline, I get a push I desperately need.

My pack thumps against my back as I sprint forward. Breathless, I shout again, trying not to sound desperate, but failing. The gap closes.

They finally turn, and for a split second, our eyes lock—just before my foot catches. A grunt, a rush of gravity, and then hard earth as my sneaker glides against the greenery, and I fall face first. The impact knocks the air from my lungs.

But it’s not the fall that rattles me.

It’s the face of the person I hope will be my savior.

Twigs snap, closer now. I raise my head—and freeze.

The man looming over me is all lean muscle and sweat, shirtless and sun-baked. His jeans are ripped at the knees, streaked with dirt, hanging low. My gaze locks onto his chest instead. Sharp hips, carved abs, a trail of dark hair leading down—

All in an instant, my mouth goes dry. My body doesn’t care that I’m sprawled in the dirt, that my muscles are jelly. It only knows heat.

Blocking the sun, his nostrils flare, and his eyes aren’t just dark. They’re black , pupils swallowing the irises whole. Across his brow, three faded white scars that leave gaps on his brow.

A slow, deliberate exhale. Then his lips peel back.

Teeth.

Not just sharp canines. Fangs. Too long, too pointed for anything human.

Maybe I’m delirious from running out of water a few miles back, who knows? All I can do is wonder if this man is who the locals were talking about. This man is the closest thing to a beast I’ve ever seen.

And the way he’s looking down at me now? He looks like he wants to devour me whole.

I push myself up, wobbling onto my knees. My tongue darts over my dry lip, tasting dirt and adrenaline.

“Can you help me?” The words leave my mouth too soft, too breathless. “I’m lost.”

I’m not just lost—I’m unraveling.

His gaze scrapes over me, lingering where my shirt sticks to sweat-damp skin. Every instinct screams danger, but my body hums with something hotter, deeper. Fear and hunger twist together until I can’t tell them apart.

As his shadow swallows me whole, I wonder if I’ve just traded the wilderness for a different kind of beast.