Page 10 of Red Fire

Octavia

I don’t have any choice but to trust him. I think I’m doing the right thing.

I pray that I can trust him. My instincts say I can. I have to keep in mind that these are the same instincts that had me steal a chopper which landed me on this godforsaken island in the first place.

“What is the plan of action?”

“For now, we sit tight. There are too many eyes and ears out there. You need to stay quiet. We mountain men have excellent hearing. We’re skilled hunters and trackers. More men will come sniffing around before too long.”

I nod once. “Any chance of a shower?” I look down at myself. “I’ll be quiet.”

“Firstly, I don’t have a shower. I use the stream not far from here. Secondly, I need you covered in soot and ash so that they don’t smell you.”

“Smell me?”What is he talking about?“How are they going to smell me from out there?”

“Your perfume is strong. Mountain men have an excellent sense of smell. They’ll sniff you out in a hot minute.”

“I’m not wearing any perfume.”

“You smell like a woman. Like honeysuckle and wildflowers.”

What the—?! I do not!

He continues before I can argue, “Trust me when I tell you that they’ll pick up on it and come running. You need to stay covered in that stuff…or mud…or blood…or whatever I deem necessary. We need to keep you hidden.”

What kind of mountain men are these? They’re not like any I’ve ever known. Good trackers? Sure. Good hunters? I can believe that. A heightened sense of smell? Nope. Better hearing than most? I’m not buying that one, either. I nod anyway, humoring him. Perhaps all this time alone out here has made him paranoid and a bit weird, which is a shame because he is a good-looking guy.

I need to stop thinking of him in that way. I’m usually attracted to intelligent men who can hold a decent conversation. Men who don’t growl and grunt and walk around naked. Creed is decidedly not my type at all.

Besides, if he is to be believed, a whole pack of mountain men is after me. They all want to put me over their shoulder and then drag me by the hair into their caves – or wherever they live – with the sole purpose of mating and breeding me. His words, not mine. I shiver, going cold inside. Nope, this is no time to be thinking about attraction and how someone looks. It can’t be that bad, though. Not as grim as he is making it out to be. I mean, mountain men are still men; they can be talked to and reasoned with. Surely? I hope! Please!

I’m not going to panic just yet.

I’m not!

“I need to go out there to keep watch. You need to sit tight. Sit right there.” He points at the edge of the fireplace. There isan edge made out of stone. “Don’t move. Don’t even breathe too loud. Your life depends on it, Octavia. I can see it in your eyes that you don’t believe that these mountain men have a better sense of smell and better hearing, but they do. You need to trust me on that.”

I nod, sitting down where he tells me. I’m a little thirsty, but I don’t ask for water. I don’t want it to seem like I’m going against his condition so soon after he gave it. I can sit quietly. Although, there is something else a little more pressing, something I can’t ignore. I hold up a finger. “Can I use your bathroom first, please?” I stand again.

“I told you I don’t have a shower, and I need you to—”

“I need to go to the toilet.” I make a face. “My bladder is about to burst.” I wiggle my hips.

“Oh!” He grunts something I don’t understand and then turns on his heel, walking to the other side of the cabin and returning with a bucket. “Be quiet about it.”

I nod.

Then he leaves, pulling the jeans off as he reaches the door. My eyes are drawn to his meaty ass. They widen before I look away.

“Mountain men don’t wear clothes,” he says over his shoulder. “They will know you are here if they see the pants.” Then he drops the jeans in a heap and closes the door behind him. I hear him sit on the creaky wooden chair. Yep, I’ve landed myself in the freaking Wild West. It’s bizarre.

Curiosity gets the best of me, so I tiptoe to the window, peeking outside. I’m shocked at how high we are off the ground. At least a story, probably more. The cabin is nestled into the canopy of trees. It’s thick, lush, and very green, with tree trunks, branches, and leaves as far as the eye can see.

Creed has his feet up on the railing and a knife in his hand. He’s using it to whittle a piece of wood. So, all the statues are his doing. I thought as much. He’s talented; I’ll give him that.

After a few seconds, Creed turns and gives me a stern look. Busted. How did he hear me? Perhaps there is some weight to these mountain men having better hearing since I didn’t make so much as a peep walking over here.

I go back and use the makeshift toilet, letting myself drip dry. I am on my way to put the bucket in the corner when there is more talking outside. I stand there like a statue, holding tight to my bucket of pee. I’m too afraid to move so much as a muscle. I even slow my breathing. It sounds like a big group of men has congregated outside.

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