He nodded, his hair moving over his broad shoulders. “Stay away from the krulaati unless I’m with you. They’ll kill you.”
Her stomach clenched. “Anything else?”
“Don’t touch my things. Don’t reorganize.” His voice was flat. “This isn’t your house. You’re a guest.”
Her face burned. “Guest. Got it.”
Then he left. Just walked out through the back door, leaving her standing alone in the cold, dark house.
The house was so quiet she could hear her own breathing. She was kilometers from anyone who cared, trapped with a man who couldn’t stand to look at her.
Her vision blurred. She tilted her head back, blinking hard at the ceiling. No. No crying. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry.
Moving felt better than standing still. Grabbing her duffel, she headed down the hallway. The first door was the bathing room, small, functional, and cold. The second door was closed. His room probably.
The door at the end stood open so she stepped inside and stopped.
It was clean. Empty. Impersonal.
There was a bed with plain linens, a small chest of drawers, a window that looked out over the valley. Nothing on the walls. Nothing on the surfaces. Just a room stripped of anything that might make it feel lived in.
She set her duffel on the bed and moved to the window. The krulaati enclosures sprawled below. Mountains loomed overhead. The empty valley stretched in every direction. Not another structure visible anywhere.
A sound escaped her throat… half laugh, half sob. This was her life now. She sat on the bed and pressed her hand over her mouth.
Outside, the light faded. Stars started appearing.
Tomorrow she’d try again. She’d smile. Ask questions. Find a way to make this work.
Tonight she sat on the edge of the bed, watching unfamiliar constellations appear, and wondered if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
The krulaati youngling favored its left rear leg.
Goraath crouched in the enclosure, running his hand down the limb while the massive creature stood placid under his touch. Six legs meant balance wasn’t compromised, but an injury left untreated could fester. Turn septic. Kill the animal within days.
His fingers found the swelling just above the joint. Heat radiated through the thick hide.
“Easy.” He kept his voice low, soothing. “Just checking.”
The youngling huffed but didn’t move. Smart animal. It knew he was helping.
Unlike the human female currently occupying his guest room.
His jaw tightened, and he forced his attention back to the leg. Infection. Minor, but it needed treatment. Standing, he moved to the medical supplies he kept in the equipment shed attached to the enclosure. The afternoon sun hung low over the mountains, casting long shadows across the valley. He’d been out here for hours.
Good.
Grabbing the antibiotic salve, he headed back to the youngling. The animal shifted its weight, massive body swaying. Each krulaati weighed close to two thousand pounds when grown. This one was maybe half that. Still dangerous. Still capable of crushing a man without effort.
Still easier to deal with than the female in his house.
He applied the salve with efficient movements, coating the swollen area thoroughly. The youngling tolerated it, only shifting once when he pressed too hard on the tender spot.
“Done.” He straightened, and the animal lumbered away to rejoin the herd.
Goraath stood there, surrounded by the familiar smell of hay and musk and animal warmth. Out here, everything made sense. The krulaati needed care, he provided it. The fences needed mending, he mended them. The land required work, he worked it.
Simple. Straightforward. No complications.
