3. Knox
KNOX
T he chair creaks every time I shift, as if the heavy oak and thick legs are about to give way. But I built it with my own two hands, which is why I know that despite sitting on this thing feeling like daring it to splinter beneath me, it’ll hold as long as I want it to. I can trust it.
Unlike the woman I’m watching like a hawk, clocking every jolt and squirm as she sinks deeper into my sofa like she belongs there.
She doesn’t belong. Not here. Not anywhere near me.
And yet…
She hasn’t asked to leave for over an hour.
Her calf’s wrapped neat where I cleaned it. She tugs at the hem of her buttercup dress like she can cover herself, like she isn’t already spread across my cabin, her scent in the air, her eyes locked on me like she’s waiting for judgment.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. My voice drops low. “I’m waiting. Start talking.”
She flinches, then lifts that cute, pointed chin I want to graze with teeth, then my beard. “I told you. I was heading…away and I got lost.”
I grunt in warning.
Her arms fold across her chest, her bottom lip jutting. “Why would I lie? I don’t even know who you are.”
“That’s exactly what a liar would say.” I sit back, wood groaning under me. “Next you’re going to tell me you didn’t see a single one of my warning signs before you were dangling in one of my snares like a rabbit that wandered too far. So try again.”
Her nostrils flare. “I don’t owe you anything.”
God. The fire in her. It burns hotter the more cornered she is.
“And how long have you been heading away?” I ask, skepticism heavily lacing my words.
The very first signs of distress cross her face. “A day and a half. Maybe more.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You don’t remember?”
“I…lost my backpack when I lost my bearings sometime last night on the mountain.”
“And where were you headed?”
She glances down at her hand, then shrugs. “Just…away.”
I tell myself it’s the cooling sweat that makes me grow cold.
But…she was lost for a whole night. On my mountain. Where any number of creatures could’ve attacked her.
The concern that lances me makes my jaw tighten.
Then a different kind of sound makes my fury build even higher. Her small belly is growling like a pissed-off bear.
I stand, cross to the counter, and bring back a tray. Deer stew, thick bread, and a jar of water. I set it on her lap with a thump. “Eat.”
Her brows lift. “You think feeding me makes up for?—”
“Eat,” I repeat, voice harder. “Before your belly eats itself. And listen close. First rule: you stay inside. Always. You set one toe past that door without me, you’ll regret it.”
Her glare sharpens. “You can’t keep me locked in like a?—”
“Rabbit.” My mouth twists. “That’s exactly what you are.”
Her cheeks blaze red. She looks away, then blurts, “How tall are you?”
The question blindsides me. My head jerks, and for the first time in too many years, a laugh claws up my throat. Rough, unused.
She stares, wide-eyed, like she didn’t mean to say it, like she wants to claw the words back.
“Six-eight,” I tell her, letting the truth rumble low. “Two-eighty-five. All of it solid muscle. Can go for hours without breaking a sweat. Remember that.”
Her blush deepens, crawling down her throat. She grabs the bread just to have something to do, bites too fast. Her gaze flicks over me, quick, then away.
Heat sparks under my skin.
“Big deal,” she mutters.
“Yeah,” I say, stepping closer, letting her see exactly how big. “It is.”
Her eyes climb up and down my body, lingering on my crotch. Then her breath stutters. The plate wobbles in her lap. For a second, the air between us hums with something sharp, electric.
Then she fucking ruins it.
“My ex says anything more than one-forty-five is unhealthy.”
The words slice clean through.
I freeze. Blood goes hot, fast, ugly.
“First rule,” I growl. “You don’t talk about another man while you’re under my roof. Unless I ask specific questions that require you to mention him. Is that understood?”
Her eyes spark, chin tipping up. “And if I don’t agree?”
My nostrils flare. I lower my voice to a dangerous rumble. “Then I’ll put you back over my knee again. Beginning to think you like it there.”
Her breath hitches and her thighs press tight together, just once, before she glares harder. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I step closer. Slow. Deliberate. Her shoulders tense, lips parting, eyes darting down to my hands like she knows exactly what they’re capable of.
“Try me,” I whisper.
She squirms, blush flooding her skin. Then she snaps, “You’re insane.”
Maybe I am.
My blood’s supposed to be boiling with anger. My rules have been broken, my trust mocked. But it’s not just anger racing through me—it’s hunger. Darker, deeper.
My body’s ready for a fight I’m not entirely sure I want to win. To toss five years of celibacy down the mountain like a kicked rock.
I spin away, stalking across the cabin before I forget myself completely. My chest heaves in a desperate breath while my cock strains heavy against my jeans, and I curse low.
Why am I not furious? Why does her defiance make me harder than I’ve been in five damn years?
The shadows lengthen as the sun washes over Eagle’s Crown.
I should check my traps. Put away the wood I chopped. Perform the dozen other chores she interrupted. But I stay in my armchair as the hours tick by.
She ate a fraction of the food I gave her, like the rabbit she is, then fought sleep even though it was clear she was exhausted.
At her first shiver, I stoked the fire, threw on more logs, kept my back to her.
The sun is setting now, and night will come soon. And with it, new rules.
Because a beautiful rabbit like her doesn’t stop running after one trap.
And I’ll be ready when she tries again.
Lily
The fire burns low, and hours tick by as more shadows climb the walls.
The beast moves around the space, bolting the door from the outside every time he steps out. And he’s never gone longer than a minute or two each time.
My skin still tingles from his threat. Another spanking if I step out of line. The way he’d looked at me when he said it—like he already had me bent over, begging. Heat coils low in my belly, shameful and hot.
He hasn’t even glanced at me after laying down his impossible rules. I sit curled on the sofa, glaring at the bolt on the door, the metal gleaming in the firelight like it’s laughing at me.
“Are you going to let me go?” I sound like a broken record.
His hard stare from the dining table, where he’s just finished devouring his supper, gives me the answer I need.
Crap.
“Will you let me go in the morning?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and I instantly want to bite my tongue. I just agreed to spend the night in the beast’s lair.
He finally looks at me, slow and deliberate. His gaze drops to my feet, lingering on the bandaged calf, the raw scratches across my ankles. His lip curls—not unkind but close enough to sting.
“How far d’you think you’ll get with your feet cut to ribbons?” His voice is blunt, almost mocking. “You didn’t even have a destination in mind when you came up here, remember? So where you gonna go?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“Anywhere is better than being locked up,” I snap.
“No,” he rumbles. “It’s nighttime. I’m not going to chase after you if you get yourself caught in another trap.”
His voice dips low, rough. For the first time, I catch something behind the steel—worry. He hides it fast, his jaw tightening, but the words keep coming. “You’re lucky it was the snare that got you and not the bear trap.”
A shiver dances down my spine. “Bear trap?”
He leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving mine. “Or the deadfall. Or the spike pit.” His mouth twists. “Plenty out there worse than rope, rabbit.”
A shiver courses through me, but I shake my head. “You’re trying to scare me.”
Dark eyes trail over me, pausing at my chest and the inches of thigh exposed by my riding hem. “Just trying to keep that pretty skin intact, little rabbit.”
The way he says it—rough, almost tender—makes another wave of heat coil low in my belly, shameful and hot. My skin still tingles from his earlier threat. Another spanking if I step out of line. The way he’d looked at me when he said it, like he already had me bent over, begging.
I clench my fists in my lap.
He pushes back from the table, rising to his full height, shadow blotting out the firelight. Something about the way he moves, like the space bends around him, tickles the back of my brain.
It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.
“Get some sleep.”
Then the door swings open. His heavy boots scuff against the porch. A moment later, I hear the sound of wood splitting. The steady, brutal rhythm echoes through the night.
I sit frozen, staring at the bolt.
This is my chance.
I can’t stay here. Can’t let myself get tangled up in the dark pull of this stranger. Now that I’ve had time to think, I’m fairly sure I know where I dropped my backpack. It’s dark out, yes, but the moon’s out.
If I can retrace my steps to my backpack and keep going, I could be down the mountain by morning and on my way to safety.
Away from this heat twisting my body into knots I don’t understand. I need to run, no matter the cost. If I fail, if he catches me again, I’ll pay.
He’ll make me pay.
But if I don’t try, I’ll lose myself.
My gaze drops to my bare feet. The cuts sting, but that won’t stop me. I scan the cabin, heart thundering. His boots are too big—impossible.
But socks will protect my feet.
I creep to where his boots sit, and yes, there are thick wool socks bundled into them. I snatch them up and tug them on.
They swallow my calves, sliding almost to my knees. Way too big, but they’re better than nothing.
I glance once more at the door. At the shadows where he’s out there, putting away the wood hespentall day axing like he’s splitting the mountain in two.
Now’s my only chance.