Chapter 3
Her back hurt—a deeply satisfying soreness.
She couldn’t say if it was the same as gym-sore as she'd never been one for the gym, but it was definitely forest-sore.
It was a throbbing between her shoulder blades and along her spine from hours of bending, reaching, and hauling.
She was fairly certain she had splinters in both palms from scrambling over bark and grabbing at whatever kept her upright.
Her hands were streaked with dirt, and green smears from crushed leaves stained her nails.
Sweat had dried along her ribs, between and under her boobs.
Her hairdo had long ago given up and escaped whatever clip had tried to contain it, strands sticking to her temples, the back of her neck damp and itchy.
She was hungry enough that her stomach had started making dramatic, betrayal-level noises. She could practically feel the shower she was going to take later: hot water pounding down as steam curled around her.
And man, she was so, so happy.
She’d planned for harvesting these plants, had mapped it all out in her neat little notebook, color-coded and ambitious but realistic.
But with Rex’s help, she’d managed twice the area.
Twice. The forest had opened up under his guidance like it was some secret garden only he had the key to.
Turned out, Officer Growly knew hidden paths that cut the hiking time from one site to another.
Not trails, not really. More like slivers between bramble and fern, narrow breaks in the undergrowth that looked like nothing until he stepped into them and the forest simply. .. parted.
Not always the easiest, though. She’d been scratched by wild blackberry vines that clung like jealous exes.
And she’d needed help getting over a huge fallen trunk, a monster of a tree with peeling bark and mushrooms blooming along its side like tiny balconies.
Help he gave with not even a second of hesitation, as if chucking a human over a humongous fallen tree was just a Tuesday afternoon thing.
He’d stepped behind her, put his big hands on her waist, and lifted her.
Just like that. All the way up with no grunt, no dramatic inhale, no flex-and-prepare. Just up and over.
Still, the chucking had involved touching and very close proximity, so she was far from mad at it. He’d only touched her waist, mind you, but dang, the guy didn’t even hold his breath to hoist her over. Think of what he could do in a clothing-optional situation—
Never mind.
Bottom line was, she had so, so many samples to test. Carefully wrapped bundles tucked into her bag, leaves and stems and tiny blossoms that smelled faintly bitter, sweet, and wild.
She’d start tomorrow. She didn’t have time today, not with that earned shower waiting in her imagination and the sky already shifting toward evening.
Still day, but the light filtering through the canopy had softened, gold draining into amber.
The air felt cooler, the shadows now longer and thicker between the trunks.
They were still deep in the forest, meaning they wouldn’t make it to the car before sunset, but it didn’t seem to worry him, the forest expert, so it didn’t bother her.
She followed him easily, boots sinking into loam, stepping where he stepped, trusting the broad line of his back as it moved ahead, while she thought about her shower, the muscles of his back, and dinner.
She might get a pizza to celebrate, one with all the toppings, heavy enough to test the cardboard.
Olives, mushrooms, pepperoni, maybe those little spicy sausage crumbles.
She wanted to eat enough of it to put her into a food coma until tomorrow.
Hard cider—that, too. Cold, sharp, and just sweet enough to make her sigh.
It always got into her head, made the edges of the world pleasantly soft and giddy, but she’d have nowhere to go at that point and—
She bumped straight into the solid, unmovable wall that was his back. “Oof. Why did you stop?”
He didn’t answer. He tilted his head this way, then that, as if he was listening to something she couldn’t hear. Then he sniffed the air.
Weird.
“Rex?”
“Quiet.”
There was a rumble in his voice, but it was more worried than mean, which only made her more curious. Of course, she was smarter than to talk now. Something was obviously up; let the man-wolf do whatever he was doing.
The forest seemed to hold its breath with him. The breeze died down, and even the birds, which had been chattering lazily above, went silent. Alright.
“A mountain lion was spotted a few miles east of here an hour ago,” he said, eyes straight into a thick part of the trees where the shadows pooled darker than the rest.
“How do you know?”
“The pack told me.”
More questions rose up immediately, because he hadn’t picked up a phone and no pigeon had dropped a letter, but again, he was looking into the trees so hard, it felt like if she spoke too loudly, she might break whatever thread he was tugging on.
“Ok, so, um, an hour ago, it was spotted a few miles from here. That is cool, right? It’s far. Isn’t it?”
“Far, and mountain lions are shy enough to go the other way when they smell people. But lately, animals have been doing weird things.” He nearly whispered the last bit.
“Weird as...?”
“Coming close,” he murmured, eyes fully locked on that darker part of the forest.
She heard the movement before she saw anything. A brush of something heavy against leaves.
And then—
Oh, holy crap.
It was a mountain lion.
Right there. Emerging from the darker seam between the trees like it had been poured out of the shadows.
Tawny hide, muscles sliding under its skin with unforgiving, terrible grace.
It was coming toward them, and it didn’t seem friendly.
Its ears were flat, its body low, shoulders rolling with a bad, bad intent.
It really looked like—
HOLY CRAP.
HOLY.
CRAP.
Less than a breath, and in front of her wasn’t Rex anymore. Or it was him, but dang it, he was a wolf.
His clothes shredded and fallen in sad, defeated strips. The backpack rolled to one side. Where a man had stood, there was now a black wall of fur and muscle and teeth. Big. Bigger than any wolf she’d ever seen in a picture. A living barricade, planted between her and the mountain lion.
The growl that came out of him vibrated through the ground all the way into her bones.
The mountain lion, on the other hand, wasn’t as impressed as she would have preferred it to be. The wild rascal kept stalking toward them, head low and tail flicking.
Fear didn’t sneak up on her. It crashed.
Her vision narrowed, and the edges of the world blurred as every detail of that lion burned into her.
The black rims of its ears. The pale underside of its jaw.
The way its paws paced so carefully, so quietly.
Her stomach dropped like she’d stepped off a cliff.
Cold flooded her limbs even as sweat prickled fresh along her back.
She wanted to run. Every cell in her body screamed at her to run, but her legs felt like wet paper and stone at the same time.
She was going to stay right there behind the big, bad wolf.
The lion started making sounds, and that didn’t feel good at all. A low, almost conversational rumble that carried threat in every note. She’d seen a documentary about cougars once. Apparently, they hunt elk. She was smaller than the daintiest, cutest little baby elk. Probably more confused, too.
Her mouth was so dry, her tongue glued to the roof of it. Her hands were closed in fists so tight that blood could not possibly circulate. Her nails bit into her palms—she knew it, but didn’t feel it. Her knees wobbled. Not a cute, damsel wobble. Oh, no. This was a legit this-is-how-I-die wobble.
The mountain lion crept closer, shoulders rolling, tail swishing in irritated arcs.
Rex held his ground. And he grew.
Not in size, or not exactly. His presence expanded and filled the clearing. His hackles lifted along his spine, fur bristling into a dark ridge. His stance widened, paws digging into the earth. The growl deepened into a warning.
The cougar listened to that and paused, just for a second. Its ears twitched, eyes narrowed as if recalculating.
Rex stepped forward. Just one step. Head low, teeth bare. He wasn’t snapping, but that was a very clear statement: this ends badly for you.
The mountain lion’s tail lashed harder.
Her heartbeat was so loud Zoe was certain the entire Cascade could hear it. She tried not to breathe too fast, not to make any movement, not to squeak. Don’t be an elk. Definitely don’t be a squeaky elk.
Rex’s growl deepened. It was a promise of violence now.
The cougar’s shoulders lowered further, muscles bunching, but something in its eyes changed. A flicker of doubt. After a second that stretched into a lifetime, the lion gave a short, sharp hiss and angled sideways.
Rex advanced one more step.
The cougar backed up.
One step. Another. Then it turned, fluid and silent, and melted back into the forest as if it had never been there.
Rex didn’t move for several loud heartbeats.
When nothing happened, when no other predator came out, she simply dropped on her ass.
She didn’t faint, exactly, but man, everything was very white and her head very light.
The ground was cool and damp and solid and safe under her palms. “Oh my god,” she whispered, and it came out breathless and thin.
“Sweet baby Jesus and Mary. And Joseph, too.”
Rex stayed in front of her another heartbeat, maybe two, massive and still, ears angled toward the trees. Listening. Making sure. Then he turned.
His eyes found her.
The same intense brown eyes, just framed in fur. There was something in them, maybe a question—Are you okay?