Page 18 of Alien Huntsman

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, not quite a smile but close. It transformed his face, softening the hard lines and making him look younger. She found herself staring at him, surprised by how that tiny expression affected her.

“In which case, don’t you think it’s time for introductions?” she added. “I’m Tessa.”

“I know.” She waited patiently until he sighed. “I’m Korrin.”

He turned away before she could respond, gathering ingredients from the larder. A rabbit he must have caught while he was out lay ready to be prepared. He cleaned it deftly enough but he didn’t prove as skilled when it came to the vegetables.

She watched him fumble with the knife for a moment, then sighed heavily.

“Let me do that before you ruin it,” she said, stepping forward and holding out her hand.

He hesitated, then handed over the knife. “You cook as well as bake?”

“I know my way around a kitchen. Before my father married Lenora, we often cooked together.” She started on the vegetables, taking comfort in the familiar process. “If I’m staying here, I might as well make myself useful.”

He stepped back, watching her work with those intense amber eyes. The silence between them felt different now—not comfortable exactly, but no longer fraught with tension.

But then their hands touched as he handed her an iron pot and an unexpected spark of warmth ignited within her. It was nothing, just a brief touch, but she felt… alive in a way she never had before.

For a heartbeat, their eyes met. Gold flared in his eyes as something passed between them, something hot and primal and full of promise.

Then the pot clattered to the floor, breaking the spell. She blinked as he bent down to retrieve the pot.

“You can cook,” he said gruffly, handing her the fallen pot. “I’ll check the fish trap.”

She stared at his broad back as he walked away.

“Be careful,” she murmured.

It wasn’t until he disappeared into the woods that she realized how much she’d meant the simple words.

CHAPTER 8

Korrin tracked the deer through the underbrush, moving silently despite his size. The doe paused at a small stream, ears twitching as she lowered her head to drink. He notched an arrow, drew back the bowstring, and released in one fluid motion. The arrow struck true, and the animal dropped without suffering. A clean kill.

“That makes three this week,” he muttered to himself as he approached the fallen deer.

He field-dressed the carcass with practiced efficiency, his mind wandering to the cabin where Tessa waited. His beast purred with satisfaction at the thought of returning with meat, of seeing her smile at his offering. He scowled, trying to silence the primitive part of himself.

“I’m just making sure she has enough before I leave,” he told himself for the fifth time that day.

But three days had passed since he’d brought her to the cabin, and each morning he found a new excuse to stay. More firewoodneeded chopping. The roof had a small leak. The pups required fresh meat. All tasks that kept him near her.

Back at the cabin, he found her sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with the adyani pups. One of them—the runt with the white streak—had claimed her lap and was gnawing playfully at her fingers.

“You’re back.” Her smile was warm and soft, and something in his chest tightened at the sight.

“Caught a deer.” He hefted the meat he’d wrapped in hide. “Should last a while.”

“Another one? The smokehouse is already full.”

He shrugged and moved to the small table, unwrapping his kill. “You’ll need provisions.”

“For when you leave?” Her voice was carefully neutral.

His hands stilled. He hadn’t mentioned leaving today, but they both knew he couldn’t stay forever. Shouldn’t stay.

“Yes.”

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