6. Lily
LILY
I’m not dying. I’m just a little bit scratched. Banged up at best.
“Stop glaring at me,” Bear mutters from the chair in the corner, arms crossed, watching me like a prison warden.
“I’m not glaring,” I snap. “I’m... restless. You’ve barely let me out of bed.”
“You need to heal.”
“I need to move,” I shoot back. “I’m used to working, to being on my feet. I don’t do well sitting around.”
“Too fucking bad. You decided to risk your health and that beautiful skin getting torn up. This is the consequence. Your foot still needs to heal.”
I grind my teeth. Every argument with him is like punching a wall—immovable, unyielding, frustratingly solid.
By the fourth morning, I can’t take it anymore. I throw back the blankets, plant my feet on the floor. “My foot is fine. I’m going outside.”
He rises instantly, that giant frame unfolding like a grizzly stirred fromhibernation. “The hell you are.”
I fold my arms. “You want me to heal? Then let’s do something useful. I lost my backpack somewhere on your mountain, just before I fell into your snare. It had things I need.”
His eyes narrow. “Oh yeah? Or maybe it had something else. A phone. A weapon. A signal for whoever you’re really running from.”
My stomach twists, but I lift my chin. “If I had a working phone or any means of signaling anyone, do you really think I’d have gotten lost long enough to have landed in your snare in the first place?”
Silence. His jaw flexes.
“Fine,” he growls at last. “We’ll go. But if you so much as look like you’re trying to run, I’ll drag you backhereand keep you on your knees until you forget what country you’re in.”
I can’t help the sizzling shiver that rolls through me at the raw menace, even as I huff. “Whatever, Bear.”
Something flickers in his gaze at the name.
But as he turns away, I’m sure I catch the faintest twitch of his mean mouth.
The forest is alive around us, birds darting through the canopy, the scent of pine and damp earth sharp in the air.
Bear walks beside me, steady and silent, his strides twice mine. I’m still in his socks... well, two of them since he insisted doubling up provided more cushioning.
They swallow my calves, nearly to my knees, but they keep me warmer than leggings. His T-shirt hangs loose on me, brushing my thighs, and the boxers he lent me keep me from being totally underwear-free.
I notice that he didn’t offer to give back my bra. That his eyes stray to my chest every few steps, andhelicks his lips every time.
I shouldn’t feel this level of power at that small gesture, but damn, I can’t help myself. I’m learning that I can’t help myself much around this big brute.
He only lets me walk when the ground softens with moss, his hand heavy at my elbow as if testing whether I can manage it.
The moment stones or roots cut through, he stops, crouches, and hauls me effortlessly into his arms.
I squirm the first few times, embarrassed, but he just tightens his grip, muttering, “Not letting those feet split open again, petal.” His chest is hard under my cheek, every step a steady thunder, and eventually I stop fighting.
When he does set me down again, it’s with a look that says he’s still in control. His hand hovers at my back, not quite touching, close enough that I feel the heat of him, ready to catch me if I stumble.
“You always this bossy?” I ask after a long silence, needing to break the heavy quiet.
“Only when people try to die on my mountain,” he mutters.
“Not my fault your trap mangled me.”
“Your fault for trespassing.”
I huff but don’t argue further.
The undergrowth thickens as we near the slope where I first fell.
My chest tightens at the memory of the rope snapping around me, the terror of hanging there helpless, waiting for whoever—or whatever—had set it.
“You do this often?” I ask, voice lighter than I feel. “Set traps, wait for some poor soul to come stumbling through?”
“No.” He glances at me, dark eyes unreadable. “Surprisingly, you’re the first.”
Something in his tone makes my stomach flip.
We trek for nearly an hour before we reach a fallen log near a rocky outcrop I vaguely remember.
“Wait here,” he rumbles when I mention it.
He sits me down on a large rock, then roams about, his footsteps alarmingly quiet for a man of his size.
A true predator.
My heart jumps and my pussy dampens as I watch him crouch, angle his massive body this way and that, follow tracks I can’t spot.
After a moment, he sets off in a straight line and reaches into a thick underbrush.
And there it is, half-buried under leaves and dirt, straps torn but intact. My dark purple backpack.
Relief floods me, stupidly fierce.
It looks small and delicate in Bear’s big hand as he tugs it free, brushes the debris off, and returns to drop it at my feet.
I smile up at him. “Thank you.”
His eyes darken, and his nostrils flare, but he simply nods.
Inside are my spare clothes, underwear, toiletries, a battered wallet with forty dollars and some coins. I mourn the phone I discarded at the truck stop, but that can’t be helped.
I sense Bear looming above me, massive shadow falling over the bag and me alike. He says nothing, but I know he’s inspecting every inch, watching me for what exactly, I’m not sure.
“It’s just mine,” I whisper, pulling the strap close. “No secrets.”
His silence presses heavier than any accusation.
I glance up at him. “You think I’m hiding something? But the truth is... I don’t have much to hide.”
He tilts his head, studying me.
“I don’t have family,” I admit quietly. “Not anymore. My parents died when I was young. And I... I have a hard time making friends.” The stark admission makes my chest ache.
But I push on; again, I’m not sure why I feel the need to reassure him.
“So no siblings. Not even a friend to call if I need help.”
His eyes sharpen, the weight of his stare pinning me in place.
Finally, he rumbles, “Same.”
That surprises me more than his silence. “You don’t have family, or you don’t talk to yours?”
“Yes, I do, but no, I don’t.” His voice hardens, final.
“Why?”
His jaw clenches. His gaze slides past me, out into the trees. “Doesn’t matter.”
The wall slams back into place.
I bite my lip, fingers tightening on the strap of my pack. I want to push, but I already know he won’t let me.
The air between us thickens, unsaid things pressing close. Then he turns, his voice rough. “Come on. Let’s get you back.”
And just like that, we’re moving again, me clutching my pack like a lifeline, him stalking through the forest like nothing rattles him.
But I saw it.
That crack in his armor.
And I’m not sure what scares me more—that he has no family either... or that some part of me is glad.
Back at the cabin, I sit cross-legged on the blanket in the clearing, tugging items from the bag as Bear finishes his log chopping.
Clothes. A cracked compact. My battered wallet.
And then my stomach dips.
One of the smaller side pockets yields a chain. Silver, tarnished, with a little pendant in the shape of a flower.
Before I can tuck it away, Bear’s shadow falls over me. He plucks it from my hand, huge fingers closing around the delicate metal.
“Where’d this come from?” His voice is low, already dangerous.
I stiffen. “Found it in my backpack. It was a gift.”
His eyes narrow. “From who?”
I hesitate a moment. “Brandon.”
“Your fucking ex?”
When I nod, Bear’s jaw flexes, the vein in his neck throbbing.
He cocks his arm and hurls the necklace into the trees. It disappears in a flash of silver.
“What the hell?” I spring to my feet. “You can’t just throw my?—”
“He doesn’t fucking deserve you,” he snarls, chest heaving. “Not a piece of him. Not a memory. And I’m fucked to hell if I’ll let you wear something that another man gave you in my presence.”
“I know he doesn’t. But that doesn’t give you the right to throw my things away. And I wasn’t planning on wearing it.”
His jaw clenches so hard I’m stunned it doesn’t break in half. “I’ll buy you a dozen more.”
“That’s not the point! You took away my right to decide what to do with it.”
The woods hold their breath.
He drags a hand over his face, breath rough. “Okay. I get it. I’m sorry.”
My eyes narrow. “Are you?”
His mouth twitches, and he sets his massive hands on his hips, drawing my traitorous attention to the V-shaped perfection of his torso. The huge thickness of his denim-clad thighs. The steel rod pushing at his fly even now, while we’re in the middle of an argument.
He catches the direction of my gaze, and he licks his lips. “I could get there... if you let me kiss you.”
I gape. “You want me to help you apologize to me?”
He shrugs, broad shoulders rolling. “I’m not perfect, petal.”
The pet name cuts straight through my anger. He opens his arms wide, unapologetically certain I’ll come.
And I do.
I fly into him, fists thudding once against his chest before his arms band tight around me. He hoists me up, and his mouth crushes mine, hot and punishing, his kiss stealing my fury and setting something else ablaze.
His fingers fist in my hair, tilting me back, his tongue sweeping inside like he owns me. Heat pours through me, every nerve lit.
Our tongues tangle hot and urgent enough for me to grow disgracefully wet before he allows me to pull away.
I gasp against his lips, “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re magnificent. And wet. Aren’t you, petal.”
“I plead the fifth.”
I feel his mouth twist against my neck as he sniffs me loud and long. “You can plead all you want, I can smell what’s mine.”
He scoops me up higher, then slings me over his broad back. It’s a smooth, athletic move that twitches a memory in my brain. But I’m too busy yelping to remember why. A yelp that’s swallowed by his low, dark, feral laugh.
My backpack and our argument are long forgotten as he marches away from the clearing.
“Where are we?—”
“Someplace you’ll like, I think.” His voice rumbles, his pace steady as he lopes through the trees, carrying me like a prize. “One of my special places on Eagle’s Crown.”
My heart hammers. My thighs tighten around his shoulders, my fingers fisting in his damp hair.
And when he glances up, his eyes gleam with a promise that terrifies me as much as it thrills me.
It’s been long days since my Bear gave me just the tip.
And from the urgent hunger prowling through me, just the tip might not be enough this time.