Chapter 5
Chapter Five
H udson
Palmer doesn’t know that I see it.
The way her fingers tremble when she thinks no one’s looking. The way she flinches at the sound of an approaching car, her body going stiff, her breath catching in her throat like she’s bracing for something bad. She’s only been with me for two days and I can tell something is very off with this woman.
I’ve tracked animals my whole life, hunted in the dead of winter, read the wind like a second language. I know scared when I see it.
And Palmer?
She’s walking around like a goddamn prey animal, waiting for the predator to strike.
Since she stepped off that bus with her fancy bags and her city-girl attitude, thinking she could handle life on Devil’s Peak, she’s consumed my thoughts. She still carries herself like she belongs somewhere else, like this is just temporary. But I see her watching me when she thinks I’m not looking. I see her hesitation, her wariness, the way she bites her lip when she thinks too hard about something.
She’s hiding. Not just from whoever’s out there looking for her—but from me.
And I’m running out of patience. I have a feeling whoever her ex is, he did a number on her. He’s left a lasting impression with the way he seems to always be on her mind, hell, I can’t help but think she’d go runnin’ right back to him if she had the chance.
I push the nagging thoughts about losing this woman from my mind as the wind howls through the trees, rattling against the cabin walls, a storm rolling in off the ridge.
I catch Palmer in the living room, curled up on the couch, knees tucked under her chin, staring at nothing. Probably thinking about him. Her past seems to cling to the edges of her thoughts, like she’s not fully present with me. That thought kills me. This woman has already burrowed herself under my skin, made me think about things like a future and a legacy. Maybe even a family, but hell if I’m about to find myself loving someone who seems to be in love with someone else.
“You keep looking out that window like you expect someone to be there,” I finally say, keeping my voice even. “Something I should know about?”
She startles, whipping around, her hand flying to her throat like I just caught her red-handed.
“No,” she lies. “It’s just—just the wind.”
I step closer, hands resting on my belt, my voice low and steady. “You sure about that?”
She nods too quickly, her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
Liar.
I exhale sharply through my nose, jaw tight. I don’t push, even though every instinct in me is clawing to force the truth out of her.
I’ll get it out of her.
One way or another.
A few hours later my hunch is confirmed. It comes in the dead of night. A scream—sharp, raw, terror-laced—cuts through the quiet.
I’m out of bed before my brain fully registers what’s happening. My feet barely hit the ground before I’m in her room, baseball bat in hand, ready to end whatever’s got her.
But there’s nothing.
Just Palmer, tangled in the blankets, gasping for breath, hands clutching at the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
Her eyes are wild, unfocused, like she’s not here—like she’s still trapped in whatever nightmare has her in its grip.
I cross the room in two strides, dropping to my knees beside the bed. “Palmer.”
She doesn’t hear me.
“Palmer.” My voice is softer this time, a rough whisper, my fingers brushing her cheek.
She jerks away at first, body going rigid, but then?—
Recognition.
Her wide, dark eyes lock onto mine, and she chokes out my name. “Hudson.”
I don’t think. Don’t hesitate. I climb into the bed, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her against me. She’s trembling so hard her teeth chatter, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
“I got you,” I murmur against her hair. “You’re safe.”
She presses her face into my chest, gripping my shirt like a lifeline.
For long minutes, we stay like that—her shaking, me holding her, my hands running soothing strokes down her back, grounding her. She smells like something soft and warm, like vanilla and honey and a hint of something deeper, something that’s just her . Eventually, her breathing slows, her body relaxing slightly. I don’t let go.
“You wanna tell me what that was about?” My voice is low, careful.
Silence. Then she pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her expression guarded. “It doesn’t matter.”
The hell it doesn’t. I grip her chin, tilting her face up. “Palmer.” My voice is steel, my patience gone. “Tell me.”
She swallows, lips trembling. Then, finally, she breaks.
“No.” Comes her refusal.
My grip tightens, my body going ice cold.
Palmer looks away. “It’s not your business, Hudson.”
My teeth grind together. My free hand fists in the sheets, barely restraining the fury boiling under my skin. This woman—this small, stubborn, fierce-as-hell woman—has gotten under my skin.
“Fine, suit yourself, darlin’,” I say, voice rough with something dark and absolute.
Her lips part slightly, eyes wide, like she can’t believe what she just heard. Then—before I can stop myself—I kiss her. It starts slow. A brush of lips. A testing, hesitant thing. But the second she makes a noise—a soft, breathy sound that shoots straight through me—I lose every ounce of control. I grip the back of her head, angling her where I want her, deepening the kiss until she’s gasping against my mouth. She tastes like heat and desperation and something so damn sweet it makes my chest ache. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer, like she wants to crawl inside my skin. I nip at her bottom lip, groaning when she whimpers, her hips shifting against mine.
Fuck.
I can feel how much she wants this. How much she wants me. And that’s the problem.
I tear myself away with a ragged breath, pressing my forehead against hers. She lets out a small, frustrated sound, hands fisting in my shirt.
“Hudson—”
I cut her off with a rough exhale. “I want you so damn badly it hurts, but not like this.”
She stiffens. “Not like what?”
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, my voice barely more than a growl. “If I have you, Palmer…” My thumb brushes her swollen bottom lip, lingering. “There’s no going back. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
A flush creeps up her throat. Her breathing is uneven, her body still pressed against mine.
“I–I…” she gasps, searching for words.
I shut my eyes, jaw tight, trying to find some damn restraint. Because if I take her now—if I claim her the way my entire body is screaming to—I won’t let her go. And she’s not ready for that. She’s not ready for me. Not when she’s on the verge of running back to whatever asshole she ran away from in the first place.
With a low, frustrated growl, I roll away, pinning her with a look that says this isn’t over.
Her lips part, surprise flickering in her eyes.
“You should sleep,” I say gruffly.
She stares at me, searching my face. Then, finally, she nods.
I don’t move from the bed. I should.
But when she shifts, curling into my side, her head resting against my chest like she belongs there—I know I’m already too far gone.
And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.
Because she’s mine.