I hold my breath as the footsteps pass right by me on the other side of the wall and fade away. When I don’t hear anythingfor a few moments, I exhale, letting the oxygen fill my lungs and calm my rapid heartbeat.
That was a close call. Too close.Frick.I don’t want to move, but I can’t risk staying here another night. Where the hell can I go? Maybe I can make a tent of sorts from the canvas tarp to get through one more night. At the first sign of light, I’ll head down the mountain and try my luck out there in the real world.
With my plan in mind, I nod to myself, attempting to shore up the energy and courage to sneak out of here. Carefully, quietly, and as stealthily as possible, I fold up the tarp so I can take it with me. I peek out of the open space where a door will one day go, looking to my left and right before taking a fortifying breath.
Now or never…
I make a mad dash outside, running straight toward the tree line. Out of nowhere, I crash into something, startling myself and letting out a muffled shriek as the tarp falls to the ground. My eyes slam closed, and I wince, preparing to be eaten by a wolf or mauled by a bear. Instead, warm, rough hands circle my upper arms, steadying me before I fall backward.
I open one eye, shocked to see a tall, bearded man with a piercing green gaze.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my muscles trembling as he holds me up. “I’m sor-r-r-y,” I stutter out, my breath growing ragged as my vision tunnels. “I’m sorry,” I repeat over and over, the panic suffocating me with each word.
“I’ve got you,” is the last thing I hear before my world fades to black.
3
CASSIAN
Icatch the raven-haired goddess before she collapses onto the ground, scooping her up in my arms and holding her against my chest. She’s trembling, though I’m unsure if it’s from cold, fear, or exhaustion. Probably a mix of all three.
I stare down at the woman cradled in my arms. Who is she? Where did she come from? And what brought her to the point of hiding out in a construction site in the middle of the fucking mountains? The more I think about the danger she put herself in, the more upset I become, though not at her, at whoever or whatever sent her running.
I begin the short hike from the worksite to my cabin, holding the most precious woman I've ever seen against my chest, hoping to infuse some of my warmth into her shivering body. I only saw her sky-blue eyes for a second before she closed them and began apologizing profusely, but the look swimming in their depths will haunt me for the rest of my life.
She was terrified. No, more than that. Something deeper. A kind of pain and fear I’ve tried to keep locked away since leaving home at sixteen. Once again, I wonder how she ended up here,and more importantly, who the fuck I need to murder for forcing her to put her life in danger.
I know I'm getting way ahead of myself. This woman needs medical attention, a hot shower, a decent meal, and a good night's rest. Then she'll be on her way. My stomach flips over at the thought of letting her go, and my chest grows inexplicably tight as if a vise is squeezing the life out of me.
Adjusting the fragile cargo in my arms, I open my cabin door without jostling her too much. A soft whimper falls from her lips, and her brow furrows as if she’s warding off a nightmare.
If I had a heart, it would be breaking right about now.
Focusing on the task at hand, I carefully lay the mysterious woman on my couch, ensuring her head rests on a cushion so she doesn’t wake up with a sore neck. Lord knows she’ll already have aches and pains from sleeping on a concrete floor multiple nights in a row, and I don’t want to add neck pain to that list.
I take a moment to look her over, examining the wounds and bruises she’s gathered over the last few days. When I kneel to get a better view of one particularly nasty-looking cut on her upper arm, I see something that has a strange mix of rage and overwhelming sorrow churning in my gut. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve felt anything at all, let alone two strong emotions at the same time.
The scars littering her skin are much older than the cuts and scrapes dealt by the forest and living in the wilderness. These are deeper, and though they’re faded, I can only imagine the kind of torture she went through to receive them in the first place.
Taking a deep breath, I manage to break the spell this unconscious woman has cast over me long enough to run to the bathroom and grab the field medic kit I always have on hand. I can do pretty much anything except for surgery and amputation, though if push comes to shove, I know I’d figure out a way to dothose things as well. Thankfully, I don’t need to worry about that right now.
As I return to the living room and kneel in front of the couch, I realize I somehow missed her in the twenty seconds I was gone. Preposterous, I know. This woman has me all riled up, but I’m sure the feeling will pass.
Even as I think the words, I know they’re not true. Deep down in my core, I know she’s going to change me forever. She already has.
I get to work cleaning up the relatively shallow cuts, placing bandages over some of the larger ones to protect against infection. Next, I grab a washcloth and dampen it with warm water before gently wiping the tear-streaked dirt from her cheeks, revealing porcelain skin.
Without thinking, I brush a few strands of hair back, tucking them behind her ear to get a better look at my house guest. Never thought I’d have another living soul in my cabin, let alone a woman—a scared, desperate, vulnerable woman who likely wants nothing to do with me. I can’t blame her. I don't want to be around myself either, but I don’t have much choice.
I brush the pad of my thumb across her cheek, then lower, tracing her jawline and the side of her neck. Almost everywhere I look, I see angry marks and scars etched into her skin. What the fuck has this woman been through? I’ll have to be gentle with her, even if I have no idea how to do that. I can already tell she’s going to bring out things in me I didn’t know I was capable of.
Not wanting to be a creep, I withdraw my hand and take a few steps back, putting some distance between us. I don’t want to crowd her space or loom over her with my massive frame. She’s already scared half to death. It might kill me if she woke up afraid of me, too.
After a few minutes of staring silently at the woman who is changing everything without even knowing it, I decide to putsome soup on the stove to heat up. She’ll no doubt be hungry when she wakes up.
As I turn the burner to a simmer for the soup, my phone rings. I quickly snatch it out of my pocket, answering it to silence the ringer. I don’t want to startle the woman with a loud noise. I get the sense she appreciates peace and quiet, though I have no way of knowing that for sure. Maybe I’m projecting how my traumatic childhood affected me. After sixteen years of chaos, all I wanted was to find a safe, quiet place to heal. Instead, I found the military, which helped in other ways. Now, I have the chance to build the safe haven I never had growing up.
“Hello?” the voice on the other end of the line asks.
