Chapter 3
Ava
Warmth hits me in waves.
Relief. But something else layered under it. Something that coils low in my stomach every time I look at Garruk.
Ridiculous. I should be freaking out.
But sitting here wrapped in thick furs, ankle supported, heat licking at my cheeks, while a massive tusked stranger moves around the cabin like he's trying not to scare me?
It doesn't feel dangerous.
It feels safe. Too safe.
Garruk sets a steaming cup on the small table beside me. The tea smells like pine and something citrusy.
"This will warm you."
I take the cup. My fingers brush his—just barely—and it sends a jolt through me.
He goes still. So do I.
Then he steps back, jaw tight, forcing space between us.
I clear my throat, pretending I didn't just feel heat rush up my neck. "So, this is your cabin."
"Yes."
"And you live here alone?"
"Yes,” he says. “And you like to wander the mountain alone?”
"I'm a ranger,” I explain. “It's my job. And part of my job is to keep hikers safe. Even the ones with gigantic feet who travel up passes prone to avalanches.”
His brow lifts slightly. Is that amusement on this face? "Are you saying you followed my footprints?"
"You left tracks the size of serving platters. Hard to miss them."
He looks down at his boots, frowning like they betrayed him. "Didn't intend to draw attention."
"Please. You're seven feet tall. How could you not draw attention?”
His gaze flicks up. Holds mine. Heat sparks between us again—quick, sharp. I look away fast.
The tea is hot, but not as hot as my cheeks.
I take another sip. "Are you really not going to tell me what you are?"
He doesn't tense. Doesn't bristle. Just sets his shoulders back, calm and steady.
"When you're warm and rested, Ava. When you can choose whether to stay or go.”
I stare at him. "You think I'm going to scream and run when you tell me?"
"You can't run on that ankle. It’s injured."
"That's not the point."
He steps closer. Slowly. Giving me time to pull away.
I don't.
His voice lowers, gentle in a way that makes something flutter inside me.
"I don't want to frighten you."
My heart stutters.
Every survival instinct should be screaming. He's huge. Armed with tusks and muscles and a voice that rumbles like distant thunder.
But all I feel is warm. Sheltered. Like the storm is outside, and I'm inside with someone who would fight the wind itself to keep me safe.
"I'm not scared," I say softly.
His breath catches. Not loudly. Just a tiny sound in his throat.
"Good," he murmurs.
The silence stretches. Warm. Strange. Too intimate.
I clear my throat and gesture toward the wall of herbs and tools. "So, you're handy?"
He smirks. "Yes."
"I guess you hunt?"
"Of course."
"And cook?"
He raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m starving.”
“You look like a God,” I mutter.
He steps closer. Slow. Deliberate. Watching me like he's checking every breath, every flinch, every signal.
I don't flinch.
"Ava." My name in his voice slides down my spine. "You're stubborn," he says quietly. "And brave."
Warmth blooms in my chest. Not embarrassment. Something else. Something dangerous and wanting.
I take another sip, if only to have something to do with my mouth.
He watches my throat as I swallow, then snaps his gaze away. "The storm will worsen before it gets better," he says, voice rougher now. "We'll be snowed in for a while."
We.
The word hits me low and deep.
"Okay," I say, keeping my voice steady. "So we're stuck together."
His eyes flick to mine, beautiful, golden, and unreadable.
"Yes."
I swallow thickly. "Guess we should make the best of it."
His jaw flexes. Not in annoyance. Restraint.
"I won't harm you," he says, and I know—know down to my bones—he means it.
"I know," I whisper.
He looks away like he's afraid of what I'll see in his eyes, and then crosses to adjust the fire. Sparks drift up, warm and bright.
The storm roars outside.
Inside, my heartbeat is the loudest thing in the world.