Page 19 of Alien Huntsman

He busied himself preparing the meat, aware of her watching him. His beast growled in displeasure at the thought of abandoning her here. It wanted to stay, to protect what it considered theirs.

“The meat should last a month, maybe more if you’re careful.” He glanced around the cabin, noting the neat piles of firewood, the herbs she’d gathered hanging from the rafters, the repaired chair. “You have everything you need.”

But even as he said it, his beast snarled in disagreement. She needed him. And perhaps, though he’d never admit it aloud, he needed her too.

No!

He sliced the venison with more force than necessary as he rejected the idea, the knife thudding against the wooden cutting board. Across the cabin, she hummed softly as she sorted through the herbs she’d gathered. The melody was simple but pleasant—some village tune he didn’t recognize—and his keen ears caught every note.

He ground his teeth, irritated by how much he enjoyed the sound.

“Must you do that?” he growled.

Her humming stopped abruptly. “Do what?”

“That… noise.”

“You mean singing?” Her brows furrowed. “I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

He grunted, returning to his task. The truth was, her singing didn’t bother him at all. That was the problem. He liked it too much—the way her voice rose and fell, how she sometimes whispered the words she couldn’t quite remember. It made the cabin feel… inhabited. Warm.

Dangerous.

The runt with the white streak tumbled over to her again, yipping for attention. She immediately scooped him up, pressing her nose to his fuzzy head.

“Who’s my brave little warrior?” she cooed. “Are you guarding me from the big bad wolf?”

The pup licked her chin, and her laughter filled the small cabin. Something inside his chest twisted painfully. He watched as she gently scratched behind the animal’s ears, her touch so tender it made his throat tighten.

He looked away, focusing on the meat before him. His beast stirred restlessly, drawn to her warmth, her gentleness. It wanted to cross the room, to feel that same tenderness directed at him.

“Foolish,” he muttered under his breath.

“Did you say something?” she asked, looking up.

“Nothing important.”

As soon as she set the pup down and resumed her work, her humming started again, softer this time. He found himself straining to hear it, missing the fuller sound from before.

This attachment was growing dangerous. Every day he spent in this cabin with her chipped away at his walls. The way she cared for the pups, how she never complained about their circumstances, her quiet determination—all of it wormed beneath his defenses.

And then there were the nights, lying awake listening to her breathing and fighting the urge to join her in the narrow bed, to cradle her in his arms, to run his hands over those luscious curves…

The first night she’d spent in the cabin, she waited until she thought he was asleep before stripping down to the thin shift she wore beneath it. But he hadn’t been asleep and his night visionwas excellent. He’d seen every tempting detail as the moonlight turned the thin cloth translucent and that memory haunted his dreams.

He needed to leave. Soon. Before he did something truly foolish, like admit he’d started to care for her.

Despite his resolution, the next day he found himself slipping through the forest once more, alert for any sign of prey. A flash of red caught his attention, and he knelt to examine the bush. Plump berries hung heavy on the branches, their sweet scent filling his nostrils. His beast rumbled with satisfaction.

He hadn’t planned on foraging for berries. It wasn’t the sort of thing he typically bothered with. Yet here he was, picking fruit like some village boy trying to impress his sweetheart.

He scowled at the thought, even as he carefully plucked another berry. The image of her face when he’d sampled her bread yesterday lingered in his mind—how her eyes had lit up at his grudging compliment, her smile spreading slow and warm across her face.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, but continued filling the makeshift pouch he’d fashioned from a large leaf.

When he returned to the cabin, she was stirring something over the fire. The pups dozed in a pile near her feet, exhausted from their morning play. She looked up as he entered, pushing a stray curl from her forehead.

“I was beginning to wonder where you’d gone off to,” she said.

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