Page 20 of Alien Huntsman

He hesitated, suddenly feeling foolish. What was he doing, bringing her the berries? But it was too late to back out now.He stalked over and awkwardly thrust the leaf-wrapped bundle toward her.

“Thought you might use these,” he said gruffly.

Her eyes widened as she opened the package.

“Wild berries! Oh, they’re perfect!” She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling. “How did you know?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable with her delight. “Saw you looking at them in the market.”

“You remembered that?”

The wonder in her voice made his chest tighten, but before he could respond, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. The contact was brief—just the soft warmth of her lips against his skin—but it sent a shock through his entire body.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then spun away. “I’ll make a berry crumble. My father used to love those.”

He stood frozen, his hand rising unconsciously to touch the spot where her lips had been. His beast purred with satisfaction, while the rest of him remained stunned, utterly unprepared for the surge of emotions her gesture had unleashed.

That night he sat staring into the fire but he didn’t see the flames, his thoughts far away. The cabin had grown quiet after their evening meal, with only the occasional pop from the burning wood breaking the silence. Across from him, she sat cross-legged on the floor, her fingers gently stroking two of the pups as they slept in her lap.

He shouldn’t feel this comfortable. This… peaceful. Not with a human. Yet something about the scene—the warmth of thefire, the softness in her eyes when she looked at him—loosened something that had been knotted tight inside him for years.

“Do you have a family?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire.

He tensed. It wasn’t something he spoke about. Ever. But the words came anyway.

“My mother died several years ago.” The admission hung in the air between them. He hadn’t planned to say more, but when she remained silent, waiting without pushing, the rest spilled out. “Raiders. They came through our territory, taking whatever they wanted and killing anyone who stood in their way.”

His claws extended unconsciously, digging into his palms.

“She was never the same after my father died. Fragile. We lived in the city for a while but it was too much for her. I thought she’d be happier away from the city so we moved to the mountains. She wasn’t ready to join a Pack again so I stayed close, hunted for her, protected her.” His voice roughened. “Except when she needed me most.”

He’d been tracking a deer, too far from home.

“I found her in the ruins of our home. She’d hidden, but they found her anyway.” He swallowed hard. “She wasn’t a fighter. Never had been.”

Her eyes glistened in the firelight, but she didn’t offer empty platitudes or pity. Instead, she reached across the space between them and placed her hand on his. Her touch was light, almost tentative, but it anchored him to the present.

“That’s why you hate humans,” she whispered.

He looked down at her small hand covering his.

“Yes.” The single word contained years of rage and grief.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply. Not for all humans. Not trying to excuse what had been done. Just sorry for his loss.

He didn’t pull his hand away as he watched her face carefully, searching for judgment or fear. He found neither; just that quiet acceptance that continually threw him off balance. He didn’t tell her about the weeks he’d spent tracking the raiders, how he’d picked them off one by one, how their screams had done nothing to fill the hollow ache in his chest. Some things were better left unspoken, though something in her eyes told him she’d guessed at least part of it.

“After that, I wandered,” he said, his voice rough. “Couldn’t stand being around others.”

One of the pups in her lap stretched and yawned, tiny teeth gleaming in the firelight. She stroked its head with gentle fingers and it settled back down.

“Seren found me half-dead one winter. Hadn’t eaten in days.” His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Too stubborn to hunt, too angry to care.”

“These mountains?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “Yes, but a long way to the north. He dragged me back here. Fed me. Talked at me for hours while I just… existed.” He remembered those days in fragments—the constant presence of the older Vultor, the patient way Seren had waited for him to speak again. “He’s a good alpha. Better than I deserved.”

“But you didn’t stay.”

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