Page 16 of Alien Huntsman

If he stayed with her, he’d have to face the truth—that this human female meant something to him.

CHAPTER 7

Tessa blinked awake to sunlight streaming through the cabin’s uncovered windows. For a moment, disorientation gripped her—the unfamiliar wooden beams overhead, the smell of pine instead of flour and sugar. Then the previous day’s events came crashing back.

She sat up quickly, the rough blanket falling to her waist before she remembered that she’d stripped down to her chemise to sleep. She grabbed the blanket to pull it back up, but the cabin stood empty. No towering Vultor, no sign of him except for his lingering scent—wild and masculine, like the forest after a rainfall.

“Hello?”

Her voice echoed in the small space, and the pups stirred in their makeshift bed near the hearth, yawning and stretching. At least they were still here. She slipped from beneath the covers, her feet quiet on the cool wooden floor. The fire had burned low overnight, but the cabin retained a surprising amount of warmth.

Her dress hung next to the stove and when she went to retrieve it, she discovered that it was surprisingly clean. He must have washed it last night after she’d fallen asleep. The unexpected kindness made her chest ache as she pulled her dress back on. She’d been doing her own laundry since Lenora had decided she didn’t want anything that smelled like the bakery included in the clothes she sent to be washed. This virtual stranger had been kinder to her than her stepmother.

Once she was dressed she peered out of the window. A substantial woodpile stood stacked against the cabin wall—far more than had been there yesterday. He’d worked tirelessly throughout the day, his powerful arms swinging the axe with effortless precision. She’d watched him from the doorway, mesmerized by the fluid strength in every movement.

Near the woodpile hung two rabbits and what looked like a small deer, cleaned and ready for preservation. More of his handiwork. He’d disappeared into the forest twice, returning each time with fresh game, refusing her offers of help. He’d even made a surprisingly good stew from his catch, using the small wood stove in the corner next to the fireplace.

“Take the bed,” he’d growled when darkness fell, spreading his cloak on the floor near the door. “I sleep better knowing nothing can get in without going through me first.”

She’d tried to protest—it was his cabin after all—but the look in those amber eyes brooked no argument.

But where was he now? His cloak was gone. The floor where he’d slept showed no indication anyone had been there. A cold feeling settled in her stomach. He’d said he was going to leave her—had he left for good? Abandoned her here?

She checked the larder and found it surprisingly full. Root vegetables stored in boxes of hay. A basket of apples. Even a sack of flour and salt. Together with the rabbits and the deer, it was enough food to last for weeks.

“Why would you do all this just to leave?” she whispered to the empty cabin.

Bashful whined, pawing at her skirt, and she bent down and picked him up.

“Looks like it might just be us now,” she murmured, trying to ignore an unexpected pang of disappointment. But then she spotted his cloak on a peg on the wall next to the bed. He was coming back.

Her immediate rush of relief was so overwhelming that it startled her. What was she thinking? He’d kidnapped her and brought her here as a prisoner. She should be grateful that he was gone. In fact she should be using this opportunity to escape.

Except that escape meant leaving the pups. Her heart ached as looked over at them tumbling around by the hearth. They played with such abandon, unaware of her plans or the dangers outside. She’d grown to love them in the short time she’d cared for them, their little bodies warm against her when she fed them, their tiny tongues licking her fingers in gratitude.

But she wasn’t a fool. Seven adyani pups would slow her down considerably. She’d never make it far carrying them all, and if they started yipping or crying, they’d give away her position instantly. She also wasn’t sure what she’d be facing if—when—she made it back to the village. She’d decided to go to Willem and ask his help. Hopefully he could make her stepmother understand she wasn’t going anywhere.

It’s for the best, she told herself sternly. She’d always known she wouldn’t be able to keep them in the village forever.

She put Bashful back with the others and kneeled beside them, running her fingers through their soft fur.

“I’m sorry, little ones,” she whispered as tears welled up, blurring her vision. “I have to go alone.”

As much as she hated to leave them, she knew it was the right decision. She was sure that the Vultor would care for them. He could have left them to die in the woodshed, but instead, he’d gathered them up and brought them along. He’d even hunted for them yesterday, bringing back meat specifically for their growing bodies.

Whatever his intentions toward her, he wouldn’t harm them—she was certain of that.

After one last stroke for each of the pups, she adjusted the blanket they slept on, making sure it was safely away from the dying embers in the fireplace. She filled their water bowl and filled another bowl with leftover stew.

“He’ll be back for you,” she assured them, though her voice broke. “And maybe… maybe when I find my way back to the village, I can figure out a way to come back for you.”

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She knew once she left, she’d likely never see them again.

Even though she felt guilty about doing so, she grabbed the water skin and a couple of apples before heading for the door. It felt impossibly heavy as she pulled it open, taking one last look at the pups.

“Be good,” she whispered, then stepped outside, closing the door firmly behind her as more tears filled her eyes.

Dashing away the tears, she studied the terrain. Trees stretched in every direction, but the land sloped downwards to her right. Logic said going downhill would eventually lead to the base of the mountains, and from there she could find her way back to the village.

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