Page 49 of Into the Isle

I narrowly avoided a sweeping bear paw, as did the wolf it was aimed at. The bear kept bellowing, shaking the leaves around us. It easily stood over ten feet tall on its hind legs.

I put myself as close to the bear as possible without getting into its line of fire, noticing it was my only chance of getting out of this.

The wolves yipped at each other, in a much more demure way than before when they had me all to themselves.

As one, the three wolves disengaged the bear and streaked past me, spinning me in a circle with how fast they moved. When they got to their wounded comrade, they nosed the wolf along, and then the quartet scampered into the trees.

I watched the tree line for a moment, to make sure they weren’t pulling a fast one and trying to encircle us another way. Their gray shapes got smaller in the distance, their yips and howls quieter.

I let out a heavy, ragged groan and nearly let my heart drop to my chest—

And then spun, realizing there was a gigantic fucking bear behind me still. I raised my arms as I backpedaled and turned.

Except there was no bear there anymore. Instead, a mountain of a man stood before me. The same man from the top of the stairs at Dorymir Hall, who had stood alone during Gothi Sigmund’s speech.

He was naked, unabashedly, and my brain short-circuited in a different way as my eyes took in every veiny muscle stacked across his huge frame.

My eyes danced, doing a quick once-over, and my mouth fell open in shock. When my gaze trickled south for a flash, I noticed he was a massive man in every sense of the word.

Face burning, I quickly lifted my eyes and craned my neck to stare up at his handsome mug, with firm lips, a strong chin, and a short bearrd. He studied me like I was a morsel to devour. Heat thrummed through my body as the bear shifter gazed at me like I was his next meal.

He strode two steps and closed the gap between us. Had I been more alert, I would have stepped away from him, but I didn’t move a muscle.

He was wordless, staring down at me.

“T-Thank you,” I stammered. Pain gripped my left calf, and I could feel blood dripping down the wound. “You saved me.”

His hand reached out. I reflexively lifted my arm to stop him. When his large fingers froze inches away, his palm upturned as if trying to tame a wild animal—like he wanted me to scent him or something.

Ashamedly, I did. I inhaled a scent of sharp pine, smoky earth, and power. Slowly, my muscles loosened.

He softly touched and tilted my chin. “Those curs wounded you like this?”

His voice was deep, rumbling to my core. His touch, though firm on my chin, was pleasantly gentle. I could tell this was a man of few words, by the effort it took him to speak what he had.

My eyes crinkled in confusion. I became lost in his eyes, which were dark amber flecked with gold and red.

Then I realized he had asked me a question. Gathering my wits, I shook my head, understanding him. My bruised face. My split lip. Still not healed from when those whelps threw rocks at me at Selby, and my stepfather hit me.

He was the first man to mention the wounds. Eirik, Arne, nor anyone else had taken notice. Or they simply hadn’t cared.

Slowly, I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t them.”

“Then who?”

I blinked. “Pardon?”

“Who did this to you?”

I inhaled sharply, breathing hard through my nose. This man, this massive stranger, wanted a name. His face was so serious and severe, I was about to give it to him, too. I searched every speck of his stoic visage. “It’s not important.”

“Of course it is, little sneak.”

I furrowed my brow, surprised at the apparent care he showed me. It would be easy to get lost in his rich voice, like smooth, dark wood against my skin. Like the quiet forest before dawn.

“Who . . . are you?” I asked.

The man was so close I could feel heat coming off his body. Not for nothing, I was painfully aware he was still nude, while I was completely clothed.

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