Page 65 of Mistletoe

Blind panic kept her moving. At some point, she lost Hal’s coat.

Chidings ofI should have knownrepeated in her head. Her mother warned her. The sheriff warned her. Haltoldher.

Unstable, he said.

His sense of self hanging on by a thread.

It was gone.Hewas gone.

Nearly there. She shoved open the pasture gate, letting it swing closed behind her.

The toe of her boot caught on an unseen rock or obstacle, causing her to stumble. Her arms cartwheeled in the air, desperately trying to keep her balance before ultimately falling on her back.

The wind was knocked out of her. For a moment, she couldn’t move.

Hal loomed over her. Seething fury twisted his face. For the first time, she thought him truly ugly.

Emma rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up. It was futile to try to outrun a monster taller and stronger than her, but trying to farm and raise goats on the edges of a world that actively hated humans was also futile. She wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

On her feet, she ran. Pain flared in her right ankle with every step. A glance over her shoulder showed Hal wasn’t far behind. He carried Buttercup. What was he planning to do to Buttercup?

Sense of self-preservation gone, Emma stopped and turned on him. She jabbed a finger at him and ordered, “Put the goat down!”

Amazingly, Hal complied.

She held the monster’s gaze. Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. If she flinched or showed fear, she wasn’t sure what he’d do, and she’d prefer it to remain that way.

His gaze drifted over her shoulder. He growled, a low and throaty warning.

Emma spun around.

A man in uniform stood by the barn, holding a pistol.

Felix had returned home.

Chapter Sixteen

Hal

Mistletoe Farm

“Don’t shoot!”Emma stepped in front of Hal, blocking him from the man’s pistol.

Cold awareness washed over Hal. The pistol was barely worth mentioning. He had been hurt by worse tools. His immediate peril was not a concern.

He had frightened Emma.

He frightened himself.

The animal—a wolver, she called it—would have torn her to pieces. It had to suffer.

Now, Emma saw him for what he truly was: a monster. Hal might speak and do some tricks that give the appearance of being tame, but a feral beast lurked within him.

This man with the pistol, though, wasn’t fooled. “Emma, you’re covered in blood,” he said.

“It’s not mine. There was a wolver. Hal protected me,” she replied.

“It has a name?—”

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