Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
G emma woke slowly to the comforting weight of a strong, possessive arm draped over her. The sensation was both foreign and achingly familiar—something she hadn’t allowed herself in far too long. Not since she’d learned the hard way what closeness could cost. The last man she’d trusted had paid for it, and Darren had made damn sure she knew it was her fault. The bruises hadn’t been hers that time, but the scars? They were buried just as deep.
And so, she’d run.
Again and again, until her heart had no home.
Case could probably take care of himself—hell, he looked like he could wrestle a bear and win—but the thought of him out here alone, vulnerable to the kind of "accidents" Darren liked to arrange, made her stomach twist. If anything happened to Case because of her, she wouldn’t survive it.
The rain had stopped. Morning light crept into the room, soft and pink against the hunter-green curtains she hadn’t expected to find in his rugged cabin. Somehow they suited him—quiet strength cloaked in the unexpected. Still, the sun meant her window was closing. If she was going to leave, she had to do it soon… if her ankle would cooperate.
Carefully, she began to shift, inching away from him. But his arm tightened around her waist, anchoring her in place—and then he moved, rolling half over her, all heat and hardness and sleepy male hunger. His cock pressed against her, thick and ready, and her breath caught. Her legs parted before she even realized it, instinctive and aching, welcoming him closer.
“Where are you sneaking off to?” His voice was a sleep-rough growl, deep and threaded with desire.
She looked up at him—at the tousled dark hair, the shadowed jaw, the fresh love bite blooming on his neck. Her cheeks flushed as she reached out, fingers brushing over the mark. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Case snorted, then caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I like your marks. Feel free to leave more. I’m yours, Gemma.”
His words sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted to believe them—wanted to believe in him. But history had taught her to be wary of men who made claims. Still… this felt different. He felt different.
She swallowed hard and looked away. “I think I should go.”
“We’re not done yet.”
Before she could argue, his mouth was on hers—hot and commanding. His kiss stole the air from her lungs, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, taking what he wanted and giving just as much. Her hands moved on instinct, skimming over the hard ridges of his torso, every inch of him taut and warm under her touch.
She pulled him closer, burying every warning voice screaming at her to run. Just one more time. One more moment where she didn’t have to be afraid. He was real. Solid. A safe harbor in the middle of a storm she couldn’t yet escape. She needed this like air. Like life.
His mouth trailed down her neck, latching onto the fluttering beat of her pulse. He sucked gently, his voice brushing over her skin like velvet and smoke. “Now we match. You’re mine, Gemma. And I don’t share.”
She should have flinched. Should have run from those words, but instead, sadness tugged at her chest. Because she wanted that. She wanted to be his. She wanted to belong to someone who looked at her like she wasn’t broken beyond repair.
But it could never be more than this. Not with the demons chasing her. Still, she could give herself to him now. One last time.
“Yes, Case. I’m yours… for tonight,” she whispered, threading their fingers together, pressing his hand over her thundering heart.
His jaw tensed, something fierce and tender sparking in his eyes. He braced himself above her, his cock nestled against her slick folds. He shifted his hips, rubbing against her clit in slow, teasing passes that had her hips rocking into him.
“You’re mine, Gemma,” he growled, voice vibrating against her skin. “Understand?”
She stared up at him, into the depths of those intense brown eyes. There was no cruelty there, no manipulation—only fire and protectiveness and a yearning that mirrored her own. He wasn’t Darren. He didn’t want to control her. He wanted to guard her. Cherish her.
And maybe, just maybe, that made all the difference.
She tugged him down into a kiss, pouring everything she couldn’t say into the press of her lips—her fear, her longing, her gratitude, her hope. But Case didn’t rush. He kissed her like time didn’t matter, like she was the only thing in the world worth savoring.
His mouth skimmed down her neck, her collarbone, her breasts—claiming, worshipping. He took one tight peak between his lips, sucking until she arched into him with a moan, then moved lower, kissing her stomach, her hip, every inch of her until she trembled.
When he reached the top of her mound, he looked up and caught her eye. Then he licked her, a slow flick over her clit that made her cry out. She bucked against his mouth, and he growled his approval, holding her in place with both hands as he devoured her.
He licked, sucked, and teased until her thighs quivered around his head and her fingers clutched the sheets. When he slid two fingers inside her, curling them expertly, she came apart—shaking, sobbing his name as pleasure ripped through her.
“Perfect,” he whispered, watching her ride the wave of it, his voice ragged with reverence. “Every damn inch of you.”
She met his gaze, her eyes wet, her body still trembling. “Then come take what’s yours.”
He moved fast, grabbing a condom, sheathing himself while she watched with wide, heated eyes. When he came back to her, he slid over her body like a wave, kissing her deeply as he settled between her thighs.
He teased her again with the thick crown of his cock, sliding through her folds, soaking himself in her wetness. Her body arched, desperate, eager—and he gave in, pushing inside her inch by aching inch.
She gasped, clinging to him, and he paused only when he was fully seated. Her tight heat gripped him like a glove, and he barely kept himself from exploding on the spot.
“You okay?” he rasped, forehead pressed to hers.
“So much more than okay,” she whispered, breathless.
He started to move—long, deep thrusts that had her nails biting into his shoulders, her legs tightening around his waist. He kissed her, worshipped her, his rhythm slow but powerful, every stroke a vow carved into her body.
“You feel like heaven,” he murmured against her throat. “Like you were made for me.”
She sobbed his name, her body tightening again, faster this time. Her climax crashed over her, hips jerking, mouth open in a silent scream. He groaned her name and drove into her harder, riding the edge until he followed her into the abyss, spilling into the condom with a deep, broken sound.
They lay together afterward, hearts racing, skin damp, the morning sun casting gold across the tangle of their limbs.
She stroked his back, grounding him with every pass of her hand, and he kissed her temple, his voice low and raw. “You’re mine, Gemma. Trust me.”
She turned to face him, truly looking at him, and what he saw in her eyes made something tighten in his chest. Not fear. Not sorrow. But something new.
Hope.
“If you’re sure,” she whispered, “when we go down the mountain... I’ll tell you everything.”
He nodded once, slow and certain. It was all he could ask for. She wasn’t running—not yet. And that meant more than anything.
Because whatever had brought her to his mountain, whatever danger waited below, it would have to get through him first.
And Case Savage had never let anyone win a fight he gave a damn about.
T he sun had fully risen by the time Case woke again. Light streamed through the cabin windows in gentle gold shafts, casting warmth over the worn wood and the woman sleeping peacefully in his bed.
Gemma.
Still curled under the covers, her face relaxed in a way that made his chest ache. How long had it been since she’d felt safe enough to sleep like that?
Too damn long.
He slid out from beside her with care, suppressing the urge to touch her again—to bury himself inside her, to mark her all over again, to brand her until there was no doubt she belonged to him. Instead, he padded into the kitchen and busied himself with breakfast, needing something to do before his protective instincts dragged him back to her side.
The storm had cleared, leaving behind a crisp wind and air so sharp it tasted clean. Sunlight poured in through the kitchen windows, illuminating the counter where he cracked eggs and set bread to toast. A perfect morning for answers.
A sharp knock jolted him out of his thoughts. He turned toward the door, every muscle tensing.
Ty Grady stood on the porch, boots caked with mud, his ever-present German Shepherd, Caesar, planted dutifully at his side. Case’s tension didn’t ease. Ty might be family—not by blood, but by war—but he hadn’t come by for eggs and coffee.
“Grady,” Case muttered. “What do you want?”
“We had visitors on the mountain last night,” Ty said, his normally cheerful voice clipped and serious.
Case’s gaze snapped to Caesar. The dog’s posture was stiff, fur still damp, eyes sharp and scanning the horizon. That dog didn’t posture unless something was off. Case’s protective instincts kicked hard.
Ty’s gaze drifted to the cabin behind Case, one brow rising. “Break your celibacy streak, finally?”
Case stiffened. “Touch her and I’ll gut you.”
Ty grinned, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Relax. Just saying unless she was outside wandering around your cabin during a storm, she wasn’t our intruder.”
Case stepped out onto the porch and folded his arms, blocking Ty’s view inside. “No one would be up here in that weather. Not unless they were desperate or insane.”
“Caesar was antsy. Took off the second I opened the door. He tracked something through the woods—straight to your cabin.”
Case’s jaw ticked. “Probably a deer. Or a bear.”
Ty shot him a deadpan look. “Caesar doesn’t track wildlife. He tracks people. And he doesn’t stop until he finds them. But the rain obscured the trail and wiped out any footprints. We scouted at first light. One of your beehives was smashed.”
Case’s spine went rigid. “By the storm?”
“Not a chance. This wasn’t nature. Wasn’t a bear. This was personal.” Ty reached into his coat and held out a jagged piece of broken hive wood.
Bright red spray paint scrawled a message in uneven strokes.
Gemma is mine. Touch her and die.
Case’s world narrowed to a single, pulsing point of rage. His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. His jaw locked so hard it sent pain lancing up the side of his face.
“Seems like you’ve got yourself a stalker situation,” Ty said quietly.
Case didn’t answer. He turned and hurled the piece of wood off the porch like it had burned him.
Behind him, soft footsteps sounded on the wooden floor. Case turned to find Gemma wrapped in one of his flannel blankets, eyes wide and wary. She looked from him to Ty and back again.
Ty, ever the charmer, grinned. “Gemma, right? What brings you to the infamous cabin of doom and gloom?”
She shrank a little under his gaze, clutching the blanket tighter. Case moved before she could even blink, crossing the room in three strides and putting himself directly between her and Ty. His voice was low but firm. “Ignore the asshole. You okay? I made coffee. Breakfast is almost ready.”
Her smile was small, tentative. “Coffee sounds great, thanks.”
Ty had the audacity to drag out a chair. “Breakfast sounds good, too. Thanks, Case.”
Before he could blink, Case had him by the arm and yanked him halfway out of the chair with enough force to rattle the table. “Back. The fuck. Off. She’s a lady.”
Ty raised his hands in mock surrender but backed away, wisely retreating to a chair across the room. Case retrieved two mugs of coffee. He handed one to Gemma, brushing his fingers against hers in a silent reassurance. Then, reluctantly, he handed the other to Ty.
Meanwhile, Caesar had padded silently across the room and was now nestled beside Gemma, his massive head in her lap. Her hand stroked his ears gently, her voice low and sweet as she murmured to the dog. Caesar, a hardened war-trained working dog, had his eyes closed in absolute bliss.
Case and Ty stared, dumbfounded.
“Is it okay that I pet him?” Gemma asked softly, glancing between them.
Ty barked a strangled laugh. “Hell, I’ve never seen him act like this. Yeah, it’s okay.”
Case returned with two plates of eggs, home fries, and toast, setting one in front of her with quiet insistence. “Eat. While it’s hot. Ty and I need a word.”
“Caesar,” Ty said sharply, nodding toward Gemma. “Protect.”
The dog didn’t move—just shifted slightly, his posture going from relaxed to alert. Still, he stayed glued to her side, and Gemma smiled before picking up her fork.
“No feeding the dog,” Case warned, “no matter how much he begs. He’s had breakfast.”
He stepped out onto the porch with Ty close behind. Ty leaned casually against the porch post, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his concern.
“She brings trouble,” Ty said bluntly. “I assume the late model Kia SUV parked halfway down the mountain is hers?”
Case’s blood turned to ice. “What happened?”
“Someone wrecked it. Tires slashed. Windows smashed. Doors dented in like someone went to town with a tire iron. It’s totaled. Caesar couldn’t pick up any tracks—rain erased everything. I called Nathan. He’s on his way up.”
Case swore under his breath, fury simmering under his skin. Someone had come onto his mountain. Had the gall to come after his woman. The line had been crossed.
“She’s in deep,” Ty said. “You need backup, you call us. We’re all in. That woman’s scared out of her mind.”
Case didn’t hesitate. “She’s mine.”
Ty grinned. “Yeah. That was obvious. The don’t-touch warning came through loud and clear. But just remember, even soldiers need someone to watch their six.”
The distant sound of a vehicle made both men turn toward the road. A sheriff’s department SUV rumbled into view. Nathan. Right on time.
Ty pushed off the porch. “You’d better talk to her before the sheriff does. Get her side. I’ll stall him.”
Case nodded tightly and turned back to the cabin, stepping inside just in time to catch Gemma sliding a piece of bacon to Caesar under the table.
“That food was for you,” he said gruffly. “Not the damn dog.”
“He looked hungry,” she said, clearly trying not to smile.
Case rolled his eyes and pulled a chair up beside her, crowding her space until Caesar huffed and shifted to the floor with an exaggerated sigh.
Gemma looked up at him, her smile fading. There was fear behind her eyes again, the shadow of something she hadn’t yet said.
“Gemma,” he said, his voice low and steady, “you need to tell me what’s going on. I can help you. But you have to trust me.”
Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes glistened. “I don’t want to drag you into this. Just take me to my car, and I’ll leave. You’ve already done too much.”
“You don’t have a car anymore.” He hated how harsh that sounded, but he needed her to hear it. “Whoever’s after you, they trashed it last night. Tires slashed. Windows gone. Whole thing looks like it got hit with a sledgehammer.”
She went pale, her hand tightening around her fork.
“This isn’t going away,” he continued. “Whatever you’ve been doing to handle this? It’s not working. So you can tell me now… or tell the sheriff when he walks through that door in five minutes. Your call.”
Her eyes searched his, tears threatening to spill.
And for the first time, he saw something crack in her—something that looked a hell of a lot like surrender.
Not defeat.
Trust.