Chapter 6 Aria
ARIA
I’m lying on my back in Thorne’s bed. Only, the giant four-poster is no longer in his bedroom; it’s in the middle of the forest. Fir trees tower up around it, the branches so tall they touch the sky above me.
I’m naked. It’s snowing hard, but I’m not cold. In fact, my body feels almost feverish, heat pulsing between my thighs. I blink, and suddenly Thorne is there, standing at the foot of the bed.
“Where did you come from?” I ask.
“Don’t talk, princess.”
Everything is hazy as I look at him. Confused. Dream-like…
“Oh crap,” I sigh, pouting at Thorne. “This is a dream, isn’t it?”
He chuckles darkly.
The world shifts and suddenly, he’s on top of me.
Naked. His hardness presses against me. Another blink and he’s thrusting inside me.
Fucking me. His eyes are feral, darkening as he pounds me into the mattress, growling as he claims my virginity.
It’s so vivid. I can almost feel the heat of Thorne’s skin, the friction of his cock inside me.
Don’t wake up.
Please don’t wake up.
But the world is already disintegrating. The forest blurs. Thorne disappears. The mattress beneath me vanishes and I fall backward, jolting awake just as I hit the forest floor in my dream.
Shoot.
With a groan, I blink the sleep from my eyes. I can feel the slickness in my panties as I look around Thorne’s bedroom, my clit still throbbing from my dream.
Why did I wake up just when things were getting good?
I heave an irritable sigh. Heck, it’s not surprising that my mind is running wild after sleeping next to Thorne all night.
I’ve never felt so hot and bothered. Every noise, every breath, every movement—I was hyperaware of it all.
Even when I finally drifted off, my sleep was light and restless, full of naughty dreams like the one I just woke up from.
The space beside me is cold. Thorne was already gone when I got up to use the bathroom a while ago. I saw him outside, talking to another lumberjack. He’s still out there. I can hear the muffled crack of his axe thudding rhythmically nearby.
Suddenly, I feel wide awake.
I climb out of bed, pulling down my sodden panties. I wasn’t planning to spend the night, so I don’t have any spares.
Guess I’m skipping underwear today.
I tuck them into the back pocket of yesterday’s jeans, then head for the window, slowly peeling the curtains open.
Thorne is standing near the front of the cabin, using a giant tree stump as a chopping block to split logs. I watch him swing his axe, his powerful muscles rippling beneath his plaid shirt. It must be freezing, but Thorne doesn’t seem to notice.
I guess mountain men really are built different.
He pauses for a moment to wipe sweat from his brow. Then he swings again, the axe biting cleanly through the log like it’s nothing. Effortless.
God, it should be illegal to look this hot.
Watching Thorne without him knowing feels almost intimate…like I’m seeing something I shouldn’t. But I can’t look away. Heat curls in my lower belly as he shifts his stance and splinters another log, barely even trying.
Suddenly, he looks up. I don’t have time to react. His gaze flits to the bedroom window, meeting mine, and my heart stutters violently. It’s obvious I was gawking at him, watching him work. I’m glad he can’t see me blushing from here.
Thorne doesn’t look away. Even from this distance, his eyes are piercing. There’s something raw and heated in his gaze. Something that sends my mind back to my dream…the feral look in his eyes as he ruthlessly claimed my body.
Thorne lets his axe drop, taking a step toward the cabin. But as the blade hits the ground, something catches my eye. A flash of movement in the trees behind him.
That’s when I see it.
Tan fur. Golden eyes.
A mountain lion is stalking Thorne. It emerges from the snowy undergrowth, lean and starved-looking, muscle pulled tight over the bone. It prowls closer, its gaze fixed and unblinking. Ravenous hunger with teeth.
Oh God.
My stomach lurches, all the blood draining from my body. Thorne is still looking at me, and with a trembling hand, I point desperately at the mountain lion.
“THORNE!” I scream. “Behind you!”
He turns.
The lion pounces.
I watch in horror as it knocks Thorne to the ground, clawing at his arms as he tries to fight it off. Instinctively, I race out of the bedroom, bursting through the front door and into the snow. The icy wind bites at my bare legs, but I’m too full of adrenaline to feel the cold.
Thorne is flat on his back by the tree stump, wrestling with the scraggy cougar. He’s hitting every part of the animal he can reach, snarling at it. I can make out the handle of his axe pinned beneath his body, impossible for me to grab.
“Aria,” he shouts when he sees me approaching. “Goddammit, get back! Don’t get any closer.”
I ignore him. He’s not exactly in a position to be giving orders right now. Instead, I head for the pile of chopped logs and grab one, hurtling it at the lion. It misses, hitting the snow, but I’m already grabbing another. With a grunt of exertion, I throw it with all my might.
It smacks against the back of the lion’s head.
With a hiss, the lion turns its predatory gaze onto me. I can almost tell what it’s thinking.
Thorne was the wrong prey.
I’d be a much easier kill.
A deep, primal fear claws at me as I take a step back. But the lion is already climbing off Thorne, closing the gap between us. It might be skinny, but it brims with silent power as it sizes me up.
“Aria, don’t run! Whatever you do, don’t fucking run.”
I freeze, ignoring every instinct to turn and flee. In my peripheral vision, I see Thorne scrambling toward me, leaving a smear of blood in the snow. The mountain lion crouches, a cat preparing to pounce on a mouse.
“I don’t fucking think so.”
Thorne’s voice is a deep roar as he throws himself in front of me, forcing me backward. I tumble to the ground, flat on my back, heart pounding as I watch Thorne smack the wooden handle of his axe against the lion’s face. He uses it as a club, forcing the animal back.
“Get the fuck away from her,” he snarls, “or I’ll slice this axe into your damn neck.”
The lion hisses, growling at Thorne. But it looks dazed from the hit, cowering as Thorne lifts the axe again in warning. It starts to retreat, keeping low to the ground. Then it turns tail and lopes away, growling in frustration as it disappears into the forest.
“Oh God,” I whisper.
My stomach roils as I look up at Thorne. Blood flows from the ragged tears in his shirt, seeping down his slashed arms. Fat droplets fall to the ground, turning the snow red.
“Are you alright?” he asks, pulling me to my feet. “You hurt?”
I can’t speak. All I can do is gawk at him, still too shocked to move.
“Aria, answer me. Are you hurt?”
“Am I hurt?” I shake my head incredulously. “Am I hurt? Thorne, look at you!”
“I’m alright.” He glances dismissively at his bloodied arms. “Looks worse than it is.” Then he shoots a glare back at the spot where the mountain lion disappeared. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”
He wraps an arm around my waist as we climb the porch steps, like he’s trying to support me in case I collapse.
This man seems seriously confused about who is actually injured here.
As we head inside the cabin, I instinctively lock the door behind us.
“Worried it’s gonna break in, princess?” Thorne asks, raising an eyebrow.
I stare at him in disbelief, watching as blood drips from his sleeve, splashing onto the floor. I swear I’m about to lose it. This man just got attacked by a mountain lion. How the heck is he so freakin’ calm? He’s acting like this is just a regular Monday.
“You didn’t answer me before,” he says, scowling at my silence. “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t answer because it’s a crazy question!” I snap. “It’s like…like getting hit by a car and then asking someone if their ingrown toenail hurts.”
“Aria, I’m fine—”
I jab a finger toward his arm. “This is not fine, Thorne! You’re hurt.” I draw in a shaky breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “We need to get you cleaned up.”
I press a hand against his broad back, trying to make him move.
It’s like trying to shift a mountain, but grudgingly, he lets me steer him into the bathroom.
I drag a couple of chairs in after us while Thorne watches me, his green eyes glinting with something I can’t decipher.
He doesn’t sit down. Instead, he starts unbuttoning his plaid shirt, tossing it aside.
He’s wearing a thick undershirt, rusty with blood, and he pulls it up over his head.
I gulp. His broad chest is crisscrossed with shallow scratches, bleeding red against his dark tattoos. Blood smears against his thick muscles, but only a small amount. There are a couple of scratches on his biceps, one on his shoulder, a few on his hands.
Most of the damage is on his forearms.
They look like they took every hit meant for his throat.
There are scratches all the way from his elbow to his missing fingers, but most of them are shallow, as if the claws kept catching fabric instead of skin.
It must have helped that Thorne was fighting like hell the whole time.
He never gave the lion a chance to bite.
The source of most of the blood quickly becomes obvious. There’s a gash on his left arm, at least five inches long. It’s deeper than the others, dripping blood onto the bathroom tiles. I grimace as I look at it.
“We need to get you to the hospital.”
Thorne shrugs. “No truck.”
“Then I’m calling an ambulance.”
He scowls. “No.”
“But—”
“I’ll live, princess. Not letting you call an ambulance for some scratches.”
I have to take several deep breaths to stop myself from screaming at him.
“Sit down,” I snap, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
“I’m fine—”
“Sit. Down. Now.”
Thorne’s eyebrow quirks. He doesn’t move. I glare at him, and we stare each other down for a moment. Finally, he takes a seat.
“Thank you,” I say.
Was that so damn hard?
Thorne’s stubbornness shouldn’t surprise me. He’s the most infuriating man in Crave County, after all. But I swear to God, if he dies after refusing to call an ambulance, I’m definitely going to murder him.