Down, girl. Hot strangers in the woods are never good news.
I grip the knife tighter, hoping he can’t see my hands trembling. “Stop right there.”
He stops. Twenty feet away. Close enough for me to catalog every detail—the worn leather of his boots, the way his clothes stretch across muscles that look carved from stone, the faintscars marking his forearms. Close enough for me to smell him on the breeze.
Woodsmoke. Something wild. Something that makes my body pay attention in ways I absolutely do not have time for.
“You’re trespassing.” His voice is deep, rough, with an accent I can’t place. It rumbles through my chest like thunder.
I raise an eyebrow. “Funny. I have paperwork saying otherwise, Ranger Rick.”
Something flickers across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or amusement. It’s gone before I can identify it.
“This land is dangerous for your kind.”
“My kind?” I tilt my head. “People with functioning brain cells? Because I’m starting to think those are rare around here.”
His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”
“Then explain instead of lurking like some mountain Sasquatch.” I gesture with the knife. “Were you the one watching me last night?”
The almost-smile vanishes. His jaw tightens. “That wasn’t me.”
“Then who was it?”
“Creatures you’d be better off never meeting.”
I keep my grip firm on the knife. “Well, unless you want to tell me what the hell is going on, I suggest you back off and let me find cell signal so I can call the police, the National Guard, or whoever handles giant monsters in the woods.”
He takes another step forward.
Heat rolls off him—actual, physical heat, as if he’s running a fever that should have killed him hours ago. It washes over my skin, makes my breath catch in my throat.
I take another step back. Water soaks into my boots.
He follows. Stalking. That’s the only word for it. Every movement controlled, purposeful, his gaze locked on mine with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
Stop looking at his mouth. Stop wondering what he’d feel like pressed against?—
“There is no cell signal for miles.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “No police. No National Guard. Nothing that could help you against what’s coming.”
“That’s reassuring. Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Leave.” The word is clipped. Final. “Tonight. I’ll escort you to the main road.”
“Or what?” I force my voice to stay steady despite the heat flooding my cheeks. “You’ll glower me to death?”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Try me, caveman.”
The challenge hangs between us, loaded with something neither of us acknowledges. His jaw works. His hands flex at his sides—large hands, capable hands, the kind that could break bones or cradle something precious with equal ease.
What is wrong with you? He’s threatening you. Stop finding him attractive.
But my body doesn’t seem to care about logic. My heart races. My skin tingles where his heat touches it. Something deep in my chest pulls toward him, inexplicable and insistent.
His eyes flash. Actually flash—a flare of something bright behind his irises that’s gone before I can process it.
