Page 60 of Alien Huntsman

Life in the village wasn’t what he would have chosen. The constant press of humans, their curious glances, their whispers when they thought he couldn’t hear them – it all grated against his instincts. The beast inside him remained wary, restless. But then she would look up, catch his eye across the room, and smile that smile that was meant only for him, and his beast would settle.

If it made her happy, he would adapt.

“What are you thinking about, looking so serious over there?”

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts as she wiped her hands on her apron, those blue eyes studying him with gentle concern.

“Nothing important.” His lips curved slightly. “Just that you belong here.”

It was true. She moved through the bakery as if the space had been waiting for her return, filling it with warmth and life. The villagers were clearly overjoyed by her presence as well.

“So do you,” she said softly, crossing to him and rising on her toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “Belong here, I mean.”

He didn’t correct her, though he doubted he’d ever truly belong among humans. But he belonged with her, and that was enough. He’d learn to tolerate the rest.

He watched as Tessa graciously but firmly ushered the last of the well-wishers toward the door. Her patience with the villagers impressed him—he’d have growled them out an hour ago. The scent of fresh bread and Tessa’s happiness filled the small shop, but beneath it all, he caught the faint trace of her fatigue. She’d been on her feet all day.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, her voice warm but final as she closed the door behind the last villager. The bell jingled softly, and then blessed silence fell.

She turned the sign to “Closed” and leaned against the door with a sigh. For a moment, she just stood there, eyes closed, the weight of the day visible in the slight slump of her shoulders. Then she straightened, crossed the room, and came to his side.

The beast inside him stirred as she approached, that primal part that recognized her as his mate. It had been restless all day,surrounded by so many unfamiliar humans, but now it settled, pleased to have her attention again.

She reached up, sliding her hands around his neck, and kissed him. Her lips were soft, tasting of sugar and warmth. He pulled her closer, one hand at the small of her back, breathing in her scent, reminding himself that she was safe, she was his, and no one would ever threaten her again.

When she pulled back, her blue eyes sparkled up at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“When can we go home?” she asked, her voice low and intimate.

He stared down at her, certain he’d misheard her. He’d spent the entire day mentally preparing himself for village life—for the suspicious glances, the whispers behind his back, the constant restraint he’d need to show. He’d been ready to endure it all for her sake.

“You want to go back to the cabin?” he asked roughly.

She tilted her head, a small crease forming between her brows. “Of course. It’s our home. Did you think I wanted to stay here?

Home. Not the village, not the bakery, but their cabin in the woods. The simple space they’d claimed as their own. Something tight in his chest loosened. He glanced around at the bakery—her inheritance, her father’s legacy—with its warm, honey-colored walls and familiar comforts.

“I thought… this is your home.” He gestured at their surroundings. “Your father’s shop. Your life before.”

She took his hand as she smiled up at him. “This is my past. You’re my future.”

The simple declaration hit him with unexpected force. He’d been prepared to sacrifice, to adapt, to become something he wasn’t—all to ensure her happiness. The realization that she wanted what he wanted left him momentarily speechless.

“Are you sure?” he finally managed. “The bakery?—”

“Can wait,” she finished. “I’m not prepared to give it up entirely, but I thought I would only work a few days each week. Mrs. Hadley’s daughter has been looking for employment, and she has a decent hand with pastry. Without Lenora around to terrorize him, I think Sammy could actually be helpful as well.”

He considered the arrangement, turning it over in his mind. Part of him—the possessive, protective part—wanted her all to himself in their mountain home. But he knew that wasn’t fair. She wasn’t meant to be caged, even in a cage of his making.

“We could come down together on your baking days,” he suggested. “I could help carry supplies, or hunt while you work.”

The idea appealed to him more than he’d expected—a balance between their lives, a bridge between his world and hers. His beast rumbled with approval.

“You’d do that?” Her eyes searched his face.

“I would.” He pulled her closer, breathing in her scent. “As long as we go home together at the end of the day.”

He watched her face, still not quite believing what he was hearing. A part of him had been certain she would want to reclaim her old life—the bakery, the house, the place where she’d grown up. The thought of her choosing him, choosing their life together in the woods, filled him with joy.

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