Page 26 of Alien Huntsman

“No harm,” the stranger growled, his voice guttural but the words unmistakable.

Before he could respond, the massive creature turned and melted into the trees, his dark fur blending with the shadows until only the rustling of undergrowth marked his passage.

He remained frozen, every sense straining after the retreating Vultor. His beast prowled beneath his skin, urging him to pursue, to make absolutely certain the threat was gone. The scent of the stranger lingered in the clearing—unfamiliar, powerful, an intrusion on what his primal side had already marked as his territory.

A small, warm hand slipped into his.

The touch shocked him back to awareness. Tessa stood beside him, her fingers twining with his. Her skin felt impossibly soft against his calloused palm. her sweet scent wrapped around him, calming, comforting.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, her eyes searching his face.

He swallowed hard. His beast, so agitated moments before, settled at her touch. The bloodlust receded, replaced by an entirely different hunger that he fought to suppress.

“I’m fine,” he managed, though his voice came out rougher than he intended.

He should pull away. Should put distance between them. Instead, his fingers tightened around hers.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, reaching up with her free hand to touch a gash on his shoulder.

The slight pressure of her fingertips sent a jolt through him. He sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly intensely aware of his nakedness, of her proximity, of how easily he could pull her against him. Every instinct screamed at him to pull her into his arms, to bury his face in her hair and breathe in her scent until the last traces of the intruder were gone from his senses. His fingers tightened around hers, his body swaying forward before he caught himself.

What was happening to him? This small human female had him fighting his own nature, desperate for her touch while simultaneously terrified by how much he needed it.

“You need to let me clean that,” she said, her eyes fixed on the gash across his shoulder. Blood trickled down his chest, but she showed no disgust, no fear of the crimson staining his skin or the violence she’d just witnessed. “Come inside.”

She tugged at his hand, trying to lead him toward the cabin. He remained rooted in place, his muscles locked as he struggled against the warring impulses inside him. His beast prowledrestlessly beneath his skin, still agitated from the confrontation, demanding he sweep her up and claim what it already considered theirs.

“Korrin.” Her voice softened. “Please.”

That single word broke through his defenses. He allowed her to pull him forward, one reluctant step at a time. His senses remained on high alert, scanning the treeline, nostrils flaring for any hint the stranger might return.

Inside the cabin, she released his hand and moved to the stove where a pot of water simmered. He immediately felt the loss of her touch, an emptiness spreading through him that made no sense. He’d survived alone for years. He didn’t need anyone’s comfort.

Yet he watched her every movement as she gathered clean cloths and herbs, his beast settling only when she returned to his side.

“Sit,” she instructed, gesturing to a stool by the fire.

He had enough sense to pull on a pair of pants before he obeyed, his eyes never leaving her face as she dampened a cloth and began to clean the blood from his skin. Her touch was gentle but firm, and when she caught him watching her, she smiled at him.

How could she be so unafraid of the beast she’d seen emerge?

Because she’s ours.

CHAPTER 11

Tessa’s heart hammered against her ribs as she guided Korrin to the chair beside the hearth. Blood matted his hair and streaked across his powerful chest. His amber eyes still glowed with feral intensity, tracking her every movement as she gathered clean rags and water.

“You’re a mess,” she murmured, dipping a cloth into the basin. Her hands trembled slightly as she approached him.

He remained rigid, his muscles coiled tight beneath her touch as she began to clean a deep gash along his forearm. He flinched when she pressed the cloth to a particularly nasty wound.

“Sorry.” She gentled her touch, working methodically to wipe away the blood. “I don’t understand why you attacked him. He didn’t seem threatening.”

“He was too close.” The words came out as a low growl.

She paused, cloth suspended midair. “Too close to what?”

His eyes locked with hers, something primal and possessive burning in their golden depths. “To you.”

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