Blackstone Ranger Guardian - Alicia Montgomery Page 0,51
he could relax more. “Are you all right?”
Her arms slipped around him. “I am now,” she breathed. “Didn’t like waking up alone.”
“Sorry.” She would never wake up alone, ever, not if he could help it. “Are you hungry? Do you want some breakfast?”
Lifting her head up to him, she raised an auburn brow. “Let me guess—bacon, eggs, and toast.”
He found himself grinning at her. “You bet.”
“How about I make breakfast this time?” she asked. “And you can clean up.”
“Whatever you want.”
They headed inside, and Krieger put the conversation with Milos aside for now. Instead, he sat down and watched his mate as she puttered around the kitchen, humming to herself, dressed only in his uniform shirt. This is how it should be. How it should always be. And he would do anything to keep it this way.
“Can you light the stove and make coffee?” she asked swinging her head around.
Standing up, he sidled up behind her, brushing her backside with his hand and leaned down to nuzzle her neck. “Of course.”
Breakfast didn’t take long to cook as it wasn’t anything fancy, though she did seem pleased at the addition of some spices and herbs to his cabinet. “They’re from Damon,” he said. “He usually brings me takeout or pizza when he comes by, and he got tired of trying to open those ‘damn tiny pockets’ of hot sauce and then spilling them all over his shirt.”
They sat down, comfortable silence settling over them as they ate. “I didn’t realize there were other rangers living up here,” she began.
“Other rangers?”
“You called Milos your neighbor.”
He bit into a strip of bacon, chewed, and swallowed. “He’s not a ranger. Not really. Just a long-term guest.”
“Ah.”
There was hesitation in her eyes he couldn’t miss. “Something wrong?”
“Nothing … I mean …” She pushed her eggs around her plate. “John … will you tell me now what happened?”
“What happened?”
“Back … back in the army.” Pale, robin’s-egg blue eyes peered up at him through thick lashes.
A cold sweat broke on his forehead as his muscles tightened. The fork he’d been holding bent in his grip. “We don’t have to talk about that.” Reaching for his cup, he took a sip of coffee, not caring if the liquid burned his mouth and throat.
“But, Krieger, I need to understand—”
“No!” He slammed the mug down so hard it broke and spilled coffee all over the table. Dutchy jumped and gasped. The fear there was unmistakable, and he immediately hated himself, but he couldn’t control it. Rage boiled in him as he struggled to control his bear. It wanted out. It wanted blood. Pushing it deep down, he let out a roar and stormed out of the cabin.
He slammed the door behind him so hard, the walls shook. The cool air helped calm him, but it didn’t ease the tightening of his chest or the pounding in his head.
I can’t … can’t tell her. She could never know what really happened after Kargan. The nightmares that were still lurking … it still seemed real.
The blood and destruction he left in the wake of his revenge spree sparked something in him and his bear. It wanted more. But there was no one left to hunt down. Everyone involved in the bombing had been removed from this earth, even down to the bomb maker who had pled for his life on his knees.
And so, he hid deep, deep in the Arak mountains in the darkest part of Kargan. He survived by hunting animals, sleeping in caves, or in dens he dug himself. But he hadn’t been subtle about it. No, he left carcasses, went out at all hours of the day, sometimes ventured too close to farms.
His presence became some kind of legend throughout the villages in the mountains. Stories of the monstrous bear roaming the woods spread far and wide, becoming wilder and wilder with each telling. The beast was fifteen—no, twenty feet tall—with teeth like a saber-tooth tiger and claws tipped with poison. It roamed at night, stealing sheep—no, it could take horses or cows and swallow them whole without leaving any traces.
Then, when some child got lost and was found at the bottom of a ravine, they said it was the monster who did it, even though it was clear from the crushed bones that it was the fall that killed the boy.
The villagers wanted blood. A mayor offered a prize and promised the winner would be celebrated with a feast. They even made a stage where they would display