Page 14 of Alien Huntsman

The other Vultor males would see her gentleness as weakness. They wouldn’t understand how much courage it took for a human to care for creatures her kind feared and hated. They wouldn’t see what he saw.

Because she’s ours, the beast insisted, and he clenched his jaw. This possessiveness was dangerous and unwelcome. One soft little female with kind eyes and a gentle smile shouldn’t be able to crack his foundations so easily.

Yet the thought of Daven or Larak or any of the other unmated males catching her scent made his hackles rise. They wouldn’t understand her value beyond the obvious. They’d see her curves, her beauty, but miss the strength beneath her softness.

He forced himself to turn away from the sleeping woman, scanning the darkness beyond their small camp. The mountains loomed around them, dark against the stars. He needed adestination, somewhere to take her that wasn’t the Vultor enclave.

The cabin.

Three winters ago, after Seren had found him half-starved and feral in the northern territories, Seren had taken him to a small hunter’s cabin. His mother’s death had been too fresh, the pain too raw to face a new pack with their curious eyes and probing questions. He’d needed solitude to lick his wounds.

Seren had respected his need for space but checked on him occasionally, bringing supplies and news of the pack. The Alpha had been patient, giving him time to come to terms with his grief before fully integrating him into the fold.

The cabin wasn’t much—a single room with a fireplace and some basic furnishings. But it was sturdy, hidden in a small valley that few knew about, even though it wasn’t that far from either the village or the Vultor enclave. It had a stream nearby for fresh water and was far enough from both human settlements and Vultor territory to provide some breathing room.

There would be dust and cobwebs, but the roof was sound. He’d reinforced the door and windows himself during those long, lonely nights and because he still returned occasionally, it was equipped with basic supplies. It wasn’t perfect, but it would give him time to figure out what to do with her. And more importantly, it would keep her away from the other unmated males.

His beast rumbled with approval at the thought, and he scowled, irritated again by his beast’s possessiveness. He didn’t want the female. He just needed somewhere to stash her while he came up with a more permanent solution. The cabin would do. Remoteenough to be safe from Lenora’s reach, yet comfortable enough that she wouldn’t suffer unnecessarily.

The only issue was that it might not be remote enough to stop her from finding her way back. He would have to confuse her, make her think it was much further away than it was. He moved back towards the fire, already planning their route.

A short time later he crossed over to where she still slept, curled protectively around the adyani pups. He bent down and sliced through her bindings, then nudged her gently with his boot. “Get up. We’re moving.”

She startled awake, confusion flashing across her face before recognition set in. The flash of fear that followed made his beast stir uncomfortably.

“It’s still dark,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“That’s the point.” He placed the two pups that had arranged themselves next to her back with the other pups, then gathered the blanket back into a makeshift sack holding them. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

He watched her struggle to her feet, clenching his fists to stop himself from helping her, then winced as she stretched stiff muscles. Humans were so fragile. This one had spent her life in a village, probably never sleeping on anything harder than a feather mattress.

“I can carry them,” she offered, reaching for the bundle.

“No.” The word came out sharper than he intended and she gave him a startled look. “I’ll take them.”

He deliberately chose a path that doubled back on itself multiple times. The cabin was less than an hour from their currentlocation if they went directly, but he had no intention of letting her know that. Better she believe they were deep in Vultor territory, far from any hope of escape.

He led her across a shallow stream, then up a steep ridge only to descend again on the other side. The path was deliberately challenging—over fallen logs, through dense underbrush, across slippery rocks.

Yet she didn’t complain. Not once.

He found himself glancing back more often than necessary, expecting to find her lagging or in tears. Instead, she followed steadily, her face determined. Her shoes were impractical for the terrain, her dress caught on brambles, and her breathing grew labored on the steeper climbs—but she pressed on.

When she stumbled on a loose rock, catching herself against a tree trunk, he almost went back to help. Almost. Instead, he waited silently until she righted herself and continued forward.

“How much farther?” she finally asked after they’d been walking for over an hour. There was no whine in her voice, just quiet inquiry.

“As far as it takes,” he answered gruffly.

The pups had begun to stir in their bundle, making soft whimpering sounds. Soon they’d need feeding.

He grudgingly admitted to himself that he was impressed. Most village humans would have broken down by now, demanding rest or comfort. This one had courage. It didn’t change anything—she was still human, still a complication he didn’t need—but it was… noteworthy.

A short time later he spotted the cabin through the trees and felt an unexpected rush of relief. She’d kept pace without complaint, but her steps had grown increasingly unsteady. Her face remained determined, but exhaustion had etched itself into every line of her body.

He’d intended to lead her in circles for another hour at least, but something made him cut the journey short. Not concern—definitely not concern—just practicality. She’d be useless if she collapsed.

“There.” He nodded toward the small structure nestled against the mountainside.

---