Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
S carlett watched admiringly as Finnar’s powerful form melted into the shadows of the forest. As much as she hated his swift departure, anticipation of his return already fluttered in her chest. Their connection thrummed through her veins, a constant reminder that what they shared was real and precious.
Her lips curved into a smile, the memory of their passion still tingling through her body. The dappled sunlight painted patterns across her skin as she stretched, savoring the lingering warmth of his touch. The small pool beckoned, its surface sparkling. She rose to her feet, wincing a little at the tenderness between her thighs, a reminder of the new intimacy between them. The water would feel wonderful.
She dipped her toe in and found it surprisingly warm. Sliding into the inviting depths, she immersed herself in the soothing water. It washed away the evidence of their lovemaking while leaving the glow of their connection intact.
The forest surrounded her in peaceful silence, broken only by birdsong and the gentle splash of water. She ducked beneath the surface, the world fading into muted sounds and hushed echoes. She surfaced with a smile, thinking about the future. Finnar’s den already felt like home, but she had a sudden wave of longing for her own cottage—the familiar walls, her beloved loom, the rhythm of village life. She didn’t want to abandon her weaving or her friendship with Tessa or even the weekly market where she sold her cloth.
Would the villagers accept Finnar? She traced patterns in the water, considering their likely reactions. Some would certainly fear him at first—his imposing height and fierce appearance were enough to give anyone pause. But surely they would come to see past that, to recognize the gentle heart that beat beneath his protective exterior. Just as she had.
Not that she thought it would be an easy task. The villagers’ fear of the Vultor ran deep—generations of stories and warnings wouldn’t fade overnight. Perhaps they could spend time in both places? The den when he wanted to run free, her cottage when she needed to work on a commission.
Her fingers had started to prune, and she waded toward the shore. She sluiced as much water off her skin as possible, then pulled on her dress, the fabric still warm from lying in the sun. The idea of returning to the village nagged at her. She could only imagine the rumors swirling around. A few days of normal interactions might ease their fears.
If she went alone, she could explain things gradually, help them understand that the Vultor weren’t the monsters they believed. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her bodice as she thought about the best way to make them understand. But her chest tightened at the thought of leaving him, even temporarily. The mate bond hummed between them, still new and precious.
And Finnar… Even if he did agree to let her return alone—which was by no means a sure thing—she knew how much it would hurt him. He’d already lost so much—she couldn’t bear to cause him more pain.
She retrieved her boots and sat on a sun-warmed rock to pull them on. The leather was still damp from her earlier trek through the woods, but she barely noticed the discomfort. Her thoughts kept circling back to Finnar, to the way he’d looked at her as if she was the answer to every question he’d ever asked. No. She dismissed the idea with a sigh of relief. The villagers would have to accept them together or not at all.
She started to stand and realized she was no longer alone.
A man stood under the trees, his clothing rough and stained, a wide brimmed hat on his head. A long scar marred one cheek, twisting his smile into a menacing smirk. One of his eyes was milky white, and the other, dark and cold, stared at her. A crossbow hung at his side, the metal fittings gleaming dully.
“You must be Scarlett.” His voice was smooth, cultured. Wrong somehow. “The whole village is quite concerned about you.”
There was nothing overtly threatening in his words, but her heart started to race anyway. She forced her lips into what she hoped was a casual smile, fighting to keep her voice steady.
“That’s very kind, but they didn’t need to worry. I’m perfectly fine.”
He took a step closer, and she had to resist the urge to back away.
“Are you? There are some rather disturbing stories circulating.” His hand rested on the crossbow. “About a monster that took you.”
“There aren’t any monsters here,” she said sharply, then tried to soften her tone. “Just a misunderstanding. I got lost when the bridge was out, that’s all. But I’m sure you’ll still get your reward.”
“The reward for returning you safely?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Hardly worth my time. A few coins at best.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Then why are you here?”
His smile turned predatory, reminding her of a snake about to strike.
“The bounty on a Vultor, now that’s considerably more interesting.” He patted the crossbow at his side. “Especially one that’s been causing trouble in these parts.”
She fought to keep her expression neutral even as her hands trembled. The hunter’s casual mention of the bounty made her blood run cold. How many others like him were out there? How many would come hunting Finnar?
“There aren’t any Vultor nearby,” she said quickly, her voice higher than usual. “I haven’t seen any at all.”
“Really? Because I’ve been tracking something very interesting through these woods. Something not human.”
The hunter’s cold smile widened as his gaze swept over her—taking in her damp hair, her rumpled clothing, the grass stains on her dress. Heat crept up her neck as his eyes lingered.
“Perfect,” he drawled. “Simply perfect. Your… disheveled state tells quite a story.” He circled her slowly, like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’ll make the perfect bait.”
Her stomach clenched. The way he said ‘bait’ made her skin crawl. She wanted to deny it, to protest, but her appearance betrayed the truth of what had happened between her and Finnar. She prayed Finnar wouldn’t sense her distress and come racing back.
The hunter stopped in front of her, his expression calculating. “A Vultor’s protective instincts are legendary, especially toward their…” His lip curled. “…chosen females. Yes, I think you’ll do very nicely indeed.”