Page 56 of Death Valley

“I know you’re there,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady but failing because I’m scared as shit. “Show yourself.”

The forest holds its breath, like a predator considering its prey.

A tawny shape starts moving through the underbrush, powerful muscles rippling beneath its fur. A mountain lion, much larger than I expected, its amber eyes fixed on me with singular focus.

My breath catches in my throat, my stomach turning to water. The massive cat pauses, crouching slightly as it gauges the distance between us. I’ve heard all the advice about what to do when facing a mountain lion—make yourself look bigger, make noise, fight back if attacked—but in this moment, all that knowledge evaporates in the face of primal terror.

The mountain lion takes a slow step forward, its massive paw crunching in the snow. I press my back harder against the tree, searching desperately for any weapon, any advantage.

There’s nothing.

We stare at each other, locked in a silent confrontation. Its nostrils flare, taking in my scent. Then, unexpectedly, it hesitates. The great cat’s ears flatten against its skull and it lets out a low hiss, almost as if it’s detected something about me that it doesn’t like.

The mountain lion takes a step backward, then another, still watching me intently. I remain frozen, barely daring to breathe.

Suddenly, the crack of a branch breaking echoes through the trees. The mountain lion’s head snaps toward the sound, and in an instant, it’s gone—a golden streak disappearing into the forest undergrowth.

“Who’s there?” I yell in the direction of the sound, my voice breaking.

“Aubrey!” Jensen’s voice cuts through the silence, followed by the sound of him crashing through the trees, flooding my body with relief.

Moments later, Jensen emerges from the forest, Duke’s reins in one hand, his rifle ready in the other. His face transforms from concern to fury when he sees me.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he demands, striding toward me. “I told you to stay with the others!”

“I was worried,” I manage, my voice shakier than I’d like. “You were taking too long.”

“So you decided to wander into the forest alone?” His voice rises with each word, eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

Uh, yeah.

“There was a mountain lion,” I tell him, still trying to process what just happened. “It was right here, watching me. It could have attacked, but it didn’t. It ran off when it heard you coming.”

Jensen’s gaze does a quick sweep of the surrounding forest. “Mountain lions don’t typically approach humans unless they’re desperate or sick.”

“Well, this one did,” I insist. “It was huge, Jensen. It was stalking me.”

He studies my face for a moment, something complicated passing through his eyes. “You got lucky. Very lucky.” His voice softens slightly, concern edging out anger. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Just rattled.” I reach out to Duke, running a hand down his neck, staring into his dark eyes that seem a little calmer now. “You found him,” I say, smiling.

“He was headed back already,” Jensen says. “Like I knew he would. A smart horse knows when to return to safety.” The emphasis on the wordsmartisn’t lost on me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, though a part of me isn’t. “I couldn’t just wait there, not knowing. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Jensen’s jaw tightens for a moment, intensity building in his eyes, and I think he might do something brash, like kiss me. But then he shakes his head. “Reckon I should be flattered. Let’s get back to the others before something else decides to take an interest in us.”

He pulls back and I realize how badly I was actually yearning for his touch. I’m usually pretty good at just sleeping with a guy and keeping it casual, but after last night I worry that maybe I’m starting to feel things for him that I shouldn’t. Not just in a physical way, which is a given, but something…more.

But I know how stupid that is. Things are already complicated enough.

We walk in tense silence, Jensen leading Duke through the trees, me following a step behind. The relief of being found quickly gives way to a prickling awareness that we’re still not alone out here. I can’t shake the feeling of being watched, of eyes tracking our movement through the forest.

I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see the mountain lion crouched in our tracks, ready to pounce. Nothing but trees and shadows meet my gaze, yet the sensation remains—a weight on the back of my neck, the instinctive knowledge of a predator’s focus.

“Stop looking back,” Jensen says gruffly, not breaking stride. “Just keep walking.”

“I feel like something’s following us,” I whisper.

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