Page 7 of Fearless Bond

I rememberedhim.

He had looked terrifying. I’d been more afraid of him than of that damned bear. A hulking figure, four times my size, in chunky boots and an orange ski jacket. But then he’d given me gloves, dry and warm from his big hands. My fingers had prickled in them.

Why was I naked? Did the man do something to me?

Was I sore? Any dry smears of bodily fluids? Bruising?

I peeked under the blanket.

Nothing.

I felt fine.

Then he walked into the room, and I almost fell off the chaise.

“You’re awake.” The alpha’s whiskey voice reverberated through my bones. His dark beard was thick and short, his eyes were a rich brown color, and his eyebrows were bushy with harsh creases between them. A tuft of curly hair peeked out from the V of his flannel shirt. The red-checkered fabric looked like it would rip as it strained to contain his arms and shoulders. He was massive—built like a tank—with bulging pecs, a rounded but firm belly, and thick thighs in faded jeans.

I scrambled backward, clutching the blanket to my body.

He was holding my clothes, with my socks and underwear neatly folded on top of my pants. Eyeing me warily, he sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Calvin,” he said, looking annoyed. “I washed and dried your things. I figured you’d want to get dressed when you woke up.”

He placed the pile on the coffee table and took a step back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” I managed through the lump in my throat.

Wrinkling his nose as if he smelled something bad, he glanced around the room. Then he glared at me, shuffling backward. Was he angry at me? I expected some reprimand, an accusation, but instead he said, “Do you eat eggs?”

Iwashungry. Still stunned, I nodded.

“The bathroom’s over there, down the hall to the left.” He pointed to a dark hallway behind him. “There are clean towels on the vanity.”

Wow. That was one formidable scowl. I shuddered. And he had a body like those alphas who competed in throwing boulders and pulling trucks up hills—he could snap me between two fingers.

But he’d also brought my clothes, clean and folded, and offered me breakfast. He seemed hesitant to come anywhere near me, which was a good thing.

“Okay, then.” He gave a stiff nod and was about to turn away.

“What’s your name?” I piped up, surprised my voice worked.

He frowned, but his brown eyes flashed with a hint of warmth. “Barclay Black. I told you last night, but I guess you were busy staying alive.”

I let out a startled half-laugh. My memories from yesterday were muddled.

With an awkward nod, he walked out of the room.

I’m alone with a giant, scary alpha mountain man.

I eyed my clothes, then the tidy living room. It was spatial but cozy, with colorful pillows on the sprawling sofa flanked by a couple of comfy-looking armchairs. Bookshelves covered one entire wall all the way to the ceiling. A wooden step stool stood nearby.

The scary mountain man read books. It was irrational, but the presence of books calmed me—as if a guy who read couldn’t be a murderous psychopath. I should check what kind of books he had. What if they were all thrillers and gore?

The nice scent I’d noticed earlier intensified, making me feel all warm. I realized I wasn’t afraid. Not really. A part of my brain insisted I should be, but the rest of me was calm.

I shook my head at myself and reached for my clothes. First and foremost, I needed to pee. Then I’d deal with the next problem. I slipped into my underwear and went to find the bathroom.

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