The space beside me is cold. Thorne was already gone when I got up to use the bathroom a while ago. I saw him outside, talking to another lumberjack. He’s still out there. I can hear the muffled crack of his axe thudding rhythmically nearby.
Suddenly, I feel wide awake.
I climb out of bed, pulling down my sodden panties. I wasn’t planning to spend the night, so I don’t have any spares.
Guess I’m skipping underwear today.
I tuck them into the back pocket of yesterday’s jeans, then head for the window, slowly peeling the curtains open.
Thorne is standing near the front of the cabin, using a giant tree stump as a chopping block to split logs. I watch him swing his axe, his powerful muscles rippling beneath his plaid shirt. It must be freezing, but Thorne doesn’t seem to notice.
I guess mountain men really are built different.
He pauses for a moment to wipe sweat from his brow. Then he swings again, the axe biting cleanly through the log like it’s nothing. Effortless.
God, it should be illegal to look this hot.
Watching Thorne without him knowing feels almost intimate…like I’m seeing something I shouldn’t. But I can’t look away. Heat curls in my lower belly as he shifts his stance and splinters another log, barely even trying.
Suddenly, he looks up. I don’t have time to react. His gaze flits to the bedroom window, meeting mine, and my heart stutters violently. It’s obvious I was gawking at him, watching him work. I’m glad he can’t see me blushing from here.
Thorne doesn’t look away. Even from this distance, his eyes are piercing. There’s something raw and heated in his gaze. Something that sends my mind back to my dream…the feral look in his eyes as he ruthlessly claimed my body.
Thorne lets his axe drop, taking a step toward the cabin. But as the blade hits the ground, something catches my eye. A flash of movement in the trees behind him.
That’s when I see it.
Tan fur. Golden eyes.
A mountain lion is stalking Thorne. It emerges from the snowy undergrowth, lean and starved-looking, muscle pulled tight over the bone. It prowls closer, its gaze fixed and unblinking. Ravenous hunger with teeth.
Oh God.
My stomach lurches, all the blood draining from my body. Thorne is still looking at me, and with a trembling hand, I point desperately at the mountain lion.
“THORNE!” I scream. “Behind you!”
He turns.
The lion pounces.
I watch in horror as it knocks Thorne to the ground, clawing at his arms as he tries to fight it off. Instinctively, I race out of the bedroom, bursting through the front door and into the snow.The icy wind bites at my bare legs, but I’m too full of adrenaline to feel the cold.
Thorne is flat on his back by the tree stump, wrestling with the scraggy cougar. He’s hitting every part of the animal he can reach, snarling at it. I can make out the handle of his axe pinned beneath his body, impossible for me to grab.
“Aria,” he shouts when he sees me approaching. “Goddammit, get back! Don’t get any closer.”
I ignore him. He’s not exactly in a position to be giving orders right now. Instead, I head for the pile of chopped logs and grab one, hurtling it at the lion. It misses, hitting the snow, but I’m already grabbing another. With a grunt of exertion, I throw it with all my might.
It smacks against the back of the lion’s head.
With a hiss, the lion turns its predatory gaze onto me. I can almost tell what it’s thinking.
Thorne was the wrong prey.
I’d be a much easier kill.
A deep, primal fear claws at me as I take a step back. But the lion is already climbing off Thorne, closing the gap between us. It might be skinny, but it brims with silent power as it sizes me up.
