This is dangerous.
He should have left her in the pod. He should have walked away and let the mountain claim her. One more death on a world that had seen plenty—what difference would it make?
But he hadn’t walked away. He’d torn open that pod with his bare claws, pulled her into his arms, and carried her through the snow to his cabin. He’d stripped the wet nightgown from her body and wrapped her in furs, built up the fire and watched over her. And when she’d opened her eyes and smiled at him, his beast had roared with something that felt terrifyingly like recognition.
Because she’s ours,his beast insisted.
No. Never again.
After returning her to the bed, he watched her sleep for hours. He told himself he was monitoring her recovery and making sure she didn’t slip back into shock. But the truth was simpler and more pathetic—he liked looking at her.
She was beautiful in the way of fragile things, all delicate bones and smooth skin and hair that caught the firelight like spun gold. She was so small. So much smaller than Vultor females, who were built for strength and endurance and the harsh demands of mountain life. This human looked like a strong wind might break her.
But she’d survived the destruction of her ship. Survived a pod crash. Survived hours of cold that should have killed her. And when she’d woken in a stranger’s cabin, alone with an alien male twice her size, she hadn’t screamed or cried or begged for mercy.
“I should be terrified,” she’d said. “But I’m not.”
Maybe she was stronger than she looked. Or maybe she was simply naive enough not to understand the danger she was in.
Either way, it wasn’t his problem. He’d pulled her from the pod, warmed her up, fed her. Once the pass cleared, he’d point her towards the human settlement at the base of the mountains and wash his hands of the whole situation. No entanglements. No complications. No repeat of the mistakes that had once cost him everything.
His beast disagreed, but his beast could go hang itself.
She woke when grey light appeared behind the shutters—morning, though the clouds continued to hang low overhead. He had dozed in his chair, never quite losing awareness of her presence across the room. When her breathing changed, he was instantly alert, watching through half-lidded eyes as she stirred beneath the furs.
She stretched, a languid movement that arched her back and pulled the thin linen shirt taut across curves he definitely should not be noticing. Her eyes opened, unfocused for a moment before finding him by the fire.
“You’re still here,” she said, voice rough with sleep.
“My cabin.”
“True.” She pushed herself upright, wincing. “How long was I asleep?”
“Eight hours. Maybe nine.”
“That long?” She blinked, then seemed to take inventory of her body. “I feel… actually, I feel terrible. Worse than last night. Everything aches.”
“Your body’s recovering from exposure. It’ll hurt for a few days.”
“Wonderful.”
She threw back the furs and swung her legs over the edge of the sleeping platform, clearly intending to stand as she had the day before. He knew before her feet touched the floor that it was a mistake.
“Wait—”
Too late. She pushed herself upright and her legs immediately buckled, strength deserting her in a rush of failed coordination. He crossed the room before thought caught up with instinct, catching her around the waist as she pitched forward and pulling her against his chest.
Her breath caught, and her eyes went wide. And when he looked down, her nipples had stiffened beneath the shirt. His body reacted with mortifying predictability, blood rushing south in response to the feel of her pressed against him, warm and soft and impossibly fragile.
Remain in control,he ordered himself.
“I told you to wait,” he growled, not releasing her. If he let go, she’d collapse again, and the last thing either of them needed was her injuring herself further.
“I thought I could manage.” Her voice was steadier than he’d expected, though color had risen in her cheeks. “Apparently I was wrong.”
“Apparently.”
They stood there for a moment that stretched too long, her weight supported by his arm around her waist, her hands gripping his biceps for balance. She was looking up at him with those curious eyes, and he could see her pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat.
