Chapter 6
6
HUNTER
T he wind howls like a wounded beast, whipping snow against my windshield faster than the wipers can clear it. Even with the chains on my F-350’s tires and the weight of supplies in the back, I can feel the truck fighting against the gusts. Fucking useless weather report. They said the storm wouldn’t hit until tomorrow, giving everyone plenty of time to prepare. Instead, it slammed into the mountains like a freight train, catching everyone with their pants down.
“What do you think, Thor? Weather service screwed us again, didn’t they?”
The massive malamute in the passenger seat huffs in agreement, his warm breath fogging the side window. I reach over to scratch behind his ears. Thor’s been my constant companion for years now, ever since I found him as a half-frozen pup during a rescue operation. Now he’s a mountain of fur and muscle and better company than most humans I know.
“At least we got the supplies before it hit.”
The bed of my truck is loaded with containers of shelf-stable food, medical supplies, and enough firewood to keep my cabin warm through what was supposed to be tomorrow’s storm. The back seat’s crammed with fresh produce and meat. Living in the mountains means you either stock up or starve, and I’ve seen enough winter disasters to know which I prefer.
Thor’s ears suddenly prick forward, and he lets out a low whine. My hands tighten on the steering wheel as another gust tries to push the truck sideways. The road ahead is barely visible, just a suggestion of pavement beneath the growing blanket of white. In the mountains, storms don’t just block roads—they erase them completely.
“Easy, boy. We know these roads.”
Years of mountain driving experience keep my movements steady and controlled. I know every turn and switchback like I know the scars on my hands. Has to be in my line of work as a rescuer. Can’t save others if you can’t find your way home.
The memory of my last mission—a family of tourists who thought winter hiking would be adventurous —makes me grimace. Got them out just before hypothermia set in, but it was close. Too close. People don’t respect these mountains, don’t understand how quickly things can go wrong up here.
Like my parents learned. Like I learned, watching the search teams dig for them through that avalanche, my grandfather’s hand tight on my shoulder.
Thor’s sudden bark snaps me back to the present. Through the whiteout, I catch a flash of red—brake lights, dim and distorted by the snow, but definitely there. I ease off the gas, squinting through the storm. As I get closer, the scene materializes like a photograph developing… a sedan. Its side end crumpled against the guardrail, listing dangerously toward the drop-off beyond.
“Fuck.” The word fogs in the cab’s warmth. That guardrail won’t hold if the wind picks up more, and from the way the trees are bending, it’s going to get worse before it gets better.
Thor whines again, more urgently this time. He knows what comes next—we’ve done enough rescues together.
“Stay,” I command, though I know he’ll ignore me if I leave the door open. Grabbing my heavy storm gear, insulated gloves, waterproof jacket, and hat pulled low, I brace myself before opening the door.
The cold slams into me, driving needles of ice through every gap in my clothing. The wind nearly yanks the door from my grip as I force it shut, then battle my way toward the stranded vehicle. Snow pelts my face, the few inches of exposed skin already going numb despite my beard’s protection.
There’s movement inside the car—thank God they’re alive and haven’t tried walking for help. As I reach the driver’s window, I catch my first glimpse of the person inside, and my breath catches in my throat.
She’s stunning—dark brown hair shot through with highlights frames a heart-shaped face, golden-brown eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination. Her features are delicate, with high cheekbones and full lips currently pressed into a worried line.
I ask, “You need help?”
“Kinda stuck.” When she pushes open the door at my gesture, those eyes are even more striking up close, flecked with gold, studying me with wariness and hope. A few wild curls escape her hat, fluttering in the wind that whips between us.
Push it down. Focus on the job.
“We need to get you out of here,” I tell her, assessing the car’s position. “Storm’s getting worse, and this guardrail won’t hold if the wind picks up more.”
I see the uncertainty flash across her face—smart girl, she should be cautious—but I also see the moment she processes her situation, the same way I’m already planning our next moves. She glances at her phone, sighs, and sets it down. “I can’t get a signal out here.”
“You won’t and the storm’s going to get worse. You’re in danger staying out here.”
She glances at the steep drop beyond the guardrail and lets out a shaky laugh. “So this isn't exactly how I planned to spend my day.”
I half-chuckle at her attempt to cover her fear. “You’re safe. But I need to get to the truck now, and this guardrail won't hold if the wind picks up more.”
“That’s... not terrifying at all.” She swallows hard, then manages a wobbly smile.
The door protests as she pushes it open all the way, but gives way. The moment it opens, I see her body jerk at the full force of the storm. Without thinking, I reach out to steady her, and even through our layers, the contact sends a jolt through me. She’s small and delicate compared to my bulk, but there’s strength in the way she immediately starts fighting against the wind.
“I’ve got you,” I assure her, and something in her posture relaxes slightly at the words.
She glances up at me, her eyes catching mine with sincerity. "Thank you for stopping. Most people wouldn't have, in weather like this."
Just as I go to respond, a sharp crack splits the air above the storm’s howl. We both look up to see a massive pine branch, heavy with snow and ice, breaking free above us. Acting on instinct, I yank her against my chest, spinning us away from the car. The branch crashes down where we’d been standing, missing us by inches. Snow explodes around us in a white cloud, and I feel her cry out against my chest.
Her hands fist in my jacket, her face buried against me. My arms tighten instinctively, and for a moment, I’m overwhelmed by how perfectly she fits against me, how right she feels there.
“And this is why we need to move fast,” I say roughly, still holding her close. “Can you run?”
She nods against my chest, then pulls back slightly. Even terrified and snow-covered, she’s breathtaking. A tiny snowflake lands on her eyelashes, and I have to physically stop myself from brushing it away.
“What about my handbag and phone?” she asks.
“I’ll come back for it. Right now, we need to get you somewhere safe.”
Another crack sounds above us, and this time, she’s the one who moves, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward my truck. Smart girl. I keep my body between her and the worst of the wind, but she moves with surprising speed despite her size, determination in every step.
The side of the truck has my business logo—Peak Guardian Response. Her gaze traces over the logo on my side door.
"So you do this normally?" she calls out, still shaken as we push against the wind.
"Yep," I reply. "Rescue those in need up in these mountains. Though finding you in this monster of a storm..." I stare at the whiteout conditions surrounding us. "That was pure luck."
Thor’s barking grows louder as we approach, and I sense the girl falter slightly.
“That’s just Thor,” I tell her quickly. “He’s friendly. And probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”
As if on cue, Thor’s massive head appears in the back window, his tail wagging as he spots us. A surprised laugh escapes her, the sound nearly lost in the wind.
“You have a monster wolf in your truck?”
“Malamute. Though he’d probably take that as a compliment.”
We reach the truck, and I help her into the passenger seat, where Thor immediately starts fussing over her, attempting to climb back into the front, his huge nose pressing against her, sniffing her, checking her for injuries in his own way. Her laugh this time is stronger, more genuine, as she buries her fingers in his thick fur.
“Hi, big guy,” she says softly, and Thor responds by laying his head in her lap, looking up at me as if to say, Can we keep her?
“Stay with her,” I order, though it’s unnecessary—Thor’s already appointed himself her protector. “I’ll get your bag.”
Fighting my way back to her car, I can’t shake the image of her in my arms, the way she felt against me, the trust in her eyes when she looked up at me. Can’t forget the way my entire body screamed to protect her, to keep her safe, to never let go.
The wind howls louder, driving sheets of snow between me and my truck, where Thor guards my unexpected passenger.
I push against the storm toward her sedan, yanking open the passenger door against the wind’s resistance. Her handbag sits abandoned on the center console, a sleek leather thing that looks too delicate for these mountains, just like its owner. Next to it, her phone glows with a lost signal warning. I grab both, along with a purple knitted scarf from the backseat, then secure the car as best I can. The wind nearly knocks me off my feet as I return to the truck, but the sight of her through the snow-streaked windows, fingers buried in Thor’s fur while she watches for me, makes the struggle worth it.
Her scent hits me the moment I climb into my truck—peppermint and vanilla with wild morning dew on mountain flowers underneath. Pure Omega, but different from any I’ve encountered before. Protective instincts surge, especially seeing how she’s shivering despite having half a malamute in her lap.
“Thor, back,” I command, as my giant dog tries to climb completely into her lap. “Sorry about him. He’s usually not this... friendly.”
She laughs, the sound brightening the storm-darkened cab. “It’s okay. I love dogs.” Her fingers find the spot behind Thor’s ears that turns him to putty, his huge head sticking out between our two seats. “Though I’m more used to the tiny things that fit in purses.”
Thor practically melts, resting his massive head on her shoulder with a contented sigh. Traitor.
“He’s an excellent judge of character,” I say, carefully turning the truck around. The snow’s getting worse, if that’s possible. “Usually takes him weeks to warm up to strangers.”
“Clearly, he recognizes quality when he sees it.” There’s a smile in her voice. “But seriously, I can’t thank you enough for helping me out.”
“No thanks needed,” I say. “Some things you just don’t ignore.” Then I crank up the heater, trying not to be too obvious about watching her in my peripheral vision. The cold has brought color to her cheeks, and snowflakes melt in her dark curls. She’s beautiful, in an authentic way. Not polished or perfect, but alive and vibrant even while obviously scared.
“So,” she begins as Thor snuggles closer. “Where’s the closest town to get some help for my car?”
“Not in this weather.” I focus on keeping us steady as the truck slides slightly. “My cabin’s about twenty minutes up—assuming we don’t get blown off the mountain.” She arches an eyebrow, and I can’t help chuckling. “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”
“Exactly what a serial killer would say.” But she’s smiling, too. “Though I guess Thor’s a pretty good character reference.”
“He’s never steered me wrong.” I navigate around a fallen branch. “Once we’re there, you can try the landline. Cell service is usually spotty up here even without the storm.”
“You live here full time?”
“Nah, I’m in Cedar Hollow usually. Come up here in the mountains with friends to ski, climb, get away from civilization. To escape basically.” A particularly strong gust hits us broadside, and I tighten my grip on the wheel. “Though this storm came out of nowhere.”
“You’re telling me. The forecast said light snow, maybe some wind, which is why I’m here traveling to Pike Mill in Cedar Hollow to pick up supplies.” She scratches Thor’s head absently. “Shows what they know.”
“Weather up here has its own ideas.” I steal another glance at her. She’s still shivering slightly, so I edge the heat up higher. “You’re not from around the mountains?”
“Whispering Grove. Run a bakery with my sister. But I was on my way to pick up supplies.” Her tone warms talking about it. “Been there all my life, but apparently, that doesn’t make me any smarter about mountain weather.”
“Whispering Grove is about two hours south of our location now. We won’t make it back there in this weather.”
She nods, clearly understanding.
“Right now, it feels like another planet.” She peers through the windshield at the worsening conditions. “I don’t suppose you have a secret helicopter stashed somewhere?”
“Fresh out of helicopters. Though I do have hot chocolate at the cabin.”
“Bribing me with chocolate?” Her laugh carries a nervous edge this time.
I catch her eye briefly. “I know this isn’t ideal, but I’ll get you somewhere safe. Promise.”
She gives me a soft smile.
“So what did you need from Pike Mill?” I ask, genuinely curious about what would drive someone to brave these conditions.
“Specialty flour.” She says it so seriously, I almost laugh. “My sister needs it for a wedding cake. I volunteered to pick it up because, apparently, I’m an idiot who doesn’t check weather reports properly.”
“Brave,” I correct.
She smiles, and something in my chest tightens. “Though, usually, my terrible decisions don’t involve potentially freezing to death.”
“Sounds troublesome.” I work the steering wheel, fighting the blizzard that tries to pull us in every direction but straight.
She shrugs but is busy staring out the window, her hand clutching the door handle.
The truck slides again on a particularly bad curve, my stomach lurching, and her grip tightens.
“So, why a malamute?” she asks suddenly, still fussing over Thor, who seems determined to become one with her lap despite his size.
“He found me, actually.” I guide the truck around another treacherous bend, trying not to focus on how her Omega scent seems to be seeping into my upholstery. I’ll be smelling peppermint and mountain flowers for days. “Showed up at a rescue site two years ago. Lost, starving, freezing. Refused to leave.”
“Love at first sight?”
“More like stubborn determination. Reminded me of someone else who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Ex?”
She’s more perceptive than I gave her credit for.
“That obvious?”
“You got this little crease between your eyes. Like you bit into something that should’ve been sweet but wasn’t.”
Her description is so accurate, it makes me laugh despite the old ache. “Yeah, well. Some lessons you have to learn the hard way.”
“Let me guess…” She hesitates, then gives me a tentative smile. “The job? Rescue work isn’t exactly nine-to-five. Or maybe you spend too much time in the remote cabin with your buddies? Oh! Or it could be the classic ‘my mother thinks you should have a more prestigious career situation?”
I can’t help but huff out a laugh at how far off she is. “None of the above, actually.”
“Damn.” She wrinkles her nose. “And here I thought I was channeling my inner detective. Those are usually the top three complaints I hear.”
“From experience?”
“My cousin dated a forest ranger once. Her mother nearly had an aneurysm.” She pauses, then adds more quietly, “But I’m sensing I’m way off base here.”
I stare out at the storm for a moment. “She wanted the lifestyle until she realized it wasn’t just a romantic fantasy. Thought she could... upgrade me, I guess. Turn the cabin into some kind of luxury retreat and kick my grandfather out.”
“Ah. What a bitch!” The sympathy in her words isn’t the condescending kind I’m used to. “Her loss, if you ask me.” She shakes her head.
My chest unclenches. Unlike Vanessa, who looked at my cabin and saw a renovation project, this woman seems to understand the mountains aren’t something to be conquered or changed. Well, at first impressions, at least.
“Hunter,” I say suddenly, wanting her to know my name. Wanting to hear her say it.
“Hmm?”
“My name. It’s Hunter.”
She smiles, and damn if it doesn’t light up the whole cab. “Fitting. Though I hope you’re better at hunting than you are at weather forecasts.”
“Says the woman who drove into a blizzard for flour.”
“Specialty flour,” she corrects primly, making me grin. “Very different from regular flour. Life and death stuff.”
“Clearly.” The truck slides slightly, and she tenses, but I correct before she panics.
“I’m Lily.”
I grin, rolling her name over my mind. “Nice.”
Thor huffs, rearranging himself so his head rests more firmly against her. I’ve never seen him take to anyone like this. Even with Vanessa, he maintained a polite distance. But with this woman...
“What got you into the bakery business?” I ask, wanting to keep her talking. Wanting to know more.
“It’s a family business I run with my sister.” Pride colors her response. “The bakery was in the family and we still use our mom’s recipes.”
“That’s rare these days.”
“Yeah, well, some things are worth preserving.” She scratches Thor’s ears thoughtfully. “Even if certain relatives think we should’ve sold it to the first Alpha with deep pockets who came along.”
The bitterness in her tone surprises me. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“More like a novel. Or a Greek tragedy.” She sighs. “Let’s just say some people think Omegas need Alphas to be successful. That we’re somehow incomplete without one.”
“And you don’t agree?”
“I think...” She chooses her words carefully. “I think finding your mate should be about connection, not convenience. About wanting someone, not needing them.”
Her words hit something deep inside me. How many times had Vanessa talked about needing an Alpha who could provide properly? About status and security and all the things that had nothing to do with actual connection?
The woman beside me seems different. No artifice, no agenda. Just someone who knows who she is and what she wants.
It’s more attractive than any designer perfume or practiced smile.
“You’re different,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Than what?”
“Than anyone I’ve met up here.” I correct automatically, my focus split between her and the treacherous road. “Most people see the mountains as something to conquer. You talk about them like they’re home.”
“Maybe because they are.” She looks out at the swirling snow. “I mean, not these exact mountains. But this life. The small town, the family business, the quiet beauty of it all. Some people might see it as settling for less. I see it as choosing what matters.”
Thor whines softly, pressing closer to her, and I swear he’s as caught by her quiet conviction as I am.
“Though right now,” she adds with a grin. “I’m seriously reconsidering my life choices. Including the one about driving in this weather.”
“Nah, that was a great choice. Led you to us, didn’t it?”
My response sounds flirtatious, but her laugh makes it worth it. “Smooth. Very smooth. Do all mountain men have such good lines, or are you special?”
“Definitely special. Just ask Thor.”
“Ah yes, my new best friend.” She rubs his ears again. “Though I’m not easily impressed by flattery. Even if it comes with fur and puppy dog eyes.”
“What about hot chocolate and a warm fire?”
“Now that... that might work.”
I cut her another look at the way she stares ahead, confused, the small crease on her brow as she focuses on the blurred road ahead of us.
I shut down that thought quickly. She’s stranded, possibly in shock, and definitely vulnerable. The last thing she needs is some Alpha getting territorial just because she smells like everything good in the world and laughs at his jokes.
But damn if it isn’t tempting.
The wind howls louder as we climb higher, the truck’s powerful engine straining against the conditions. Most vehicles would have given up miles ago, but I’ve modified this one specifically for mountain rescue. Though, usually, I’m not rescuing anyone quite so intriguing.
“Almost there,” I tell her as we round the last bend. “Fair warning… my friends can be a bit...”
“Axe murdery?”
“I was going to say intense, but sure, let’s go with that.”
She giggles, and I adore that sound. “Well, as long as they’re equal opportunity psychos. I’d hate to think I drove all this way just to end up in some gender-specific crime scene.”
The laugh bursts out of me unexpectedly. “You really aren’t afraid of much, are you?”
“Oh, I’m afraid of plenty.” She strokes Thor’s fur absently. “Heights. Spiders. My sister when someone messes up her kitchen organization system. But I figure if you’re going to possibly die in a snowstorm, you might as well go out with good jokes.”
“You’re not going to die.” The words come out more growled than intended.
She blinks at me, then smiles slowly. “No, I’m not. Because you found me.”
The simple trust in those words does something to my chest I’m not ready to examine. Vanessa never trusted me like that—always questioned, always doubted, always looked for something better.
But this unexpected woman who talks to my dog and makes jokes about axe murderers... she trusts me after knowing me for less than an hour.
It’s fucking terrifying when no other Omega has made me feel anything until now. And it’s possibly the most attractive thing I’ve ever encountered.
The cabin comes into view through the snowstorm, and something primal shifts in my chest. My territory should be my sanctuary, but bringing her inside feels like inviting a storm more dangerous than the one howling outside. Because with every trusting look she gives me has me wanting to prove her right—wants to claim, protect, possess—and there's no shelter from that kind of hunger.