slender body curled into a foetal position.
When he had seen her in the woods, he had thought her pretty enough, but when he had brought her into his cabin and pushed her hood back and seen her in the light, he had been forced to re-evaluate his opinion of her.
She was stunning.
Beguiling.
Her beauty stirred his blood, made him want to growl and take hold of her, and bend her to his will, until she submitted to him.
Saint forced himself to turn away from her, knew in his heart he wouldn’t cross a line with her like that, but he was tired, on edge, and didn’t trust himself. He had frightened her enough.
He trudged back down the stairs and sank onto the couch, tipped his head back and tried to sleep but it eluded him now.
He stared at the ceiling, at the spot where she was on the other side of it, unable to stop himself from focusing on her. He lost track of time as he gazed at that point, as her breathing and pulse steadily calmed.
He wished he could be like that.
Calm.
Her scent was driving him crazy though and he felt as if the cabin was too small with her in it, as if he would go out of his mind if he didn’t get some fresh air. Her fault. She made him crazy, had him twisted in knots as he tried to purge her scent from his lungs and failed dismally.
He dragged a hand over his face.
Gods, he was sure she had been stood close to him while he had been sleeping.
Had seeing him in his bear form frightened her?
He chuckled softly at that. He doubted it. He drew his hand away from his face and looked at the bite mark on his palm that was healing now. The little female didn’t seem afraid of anything, not really. She was a bold one. A brave one.
Which only made him admire her more.
Saint shut down that dangerous line of thought because no good would come of it.
She was mated to another and he had taken her as revenge.
He needed to remember that, needed to get his head on straight and shut down the unruly part of him that wanted her.
He shifted his focus to the world outside as he looked at the window to his left. It was dark, but not because it was night. Morning had come, but the storm was stealing what little light they got at this time of year. Snow whirled past the window, and his bear side growled at him to stay inside, where it was warm.
But he couldn’t.
He needed air.
Space.
A moment to catch his breath.
Saint shoved to his feet, stripped off his long johns and tossed them aside as he went to the cupboards. He grabbed a pair of black trunks from one of the drawers and pulled them on, followed by his weatherproof trousers and then his black and green fleece. He grabbed a pair of thermal socks and his boots, sat on the end of the couch as he tugged both of them on, and then stood and snatched his black coat from the rack.
He paused at the door, looking back at the loft, his focus locking back on the female.
Outside, the wind slammed snow against the cabin.
He shuddered at the thought of going out there, of leaving this place, when all he wanted to do was climb those stairs, crawl onto the bed and tug her against him, moulding her body to his, holding her while he slept. That need pounded inside him, growing stronger with every beat of his heart, an irresistible urge that took all of his will to shut it down.
He pulled his coat on and opened the door, resisted the urge to slam it behind him as he stepped out onto the frigid deck of his cabin. His face twisted as snow blasted against his side, as he peered into the haze of it, just about able to make out the forest and the cabins to his right. If it continued like this, it would be another whiteout. He trudged down the steps to the path the twins had made in the snow—a path that was already covered in four inches of fresh powder.
Saint tugged his hood up and zipped up his coat, huddled into it as he marched along the path, veered right at the firepit and headed towards the two cabins nestled against the edge of the forest.
A light was on inside the one