Page 9 of Beastly Mountain Man

I already threw myself into a whirlwind of the unknown by trusting a stranger who offered me a job that may have sounded too good to be true. What’s the difference in giving myself to this man?

He’s here, and he’s real. The ache in his voice is the realest thing I’ve experienced since leaving my home to find an escape from my past.

With a slow nod, it’s all he needs before tugging me back inside.

Just like that, I have a solution to all of my problems. A six and a half foot beast-man who insists on taking care of me in every way possible.

5

Ace

I thought convincing her to stick around would be the hard part.

Turns out not pouncing on her is a challenge in itself. My hunger for her simmers, but I can see how exhausted she is. So I let her sleep on my bed, thighs spread and arms folded.

My shirt is too big for her, not long enough to hide her underwear. The same ones she wore earlier.

She doesn’t have any clothes. While I don’t understand her situation or why she came up here without anything, it doesn’t matter. I intend to give her whatever she needs.

If I have to trek my way back to town to get her clothes, I will. If it means getting wild looks from the locals, so be it.

June can’t come with me. If she does, someone will claim I’ve kidnapped her. Maybe I have. I don’t want them to take her away.

I don’t waste time leaving my cabin once she dozes off for a nap. Knowing this side of the mountain like the back of my hand, I take the quickest way down.

All my forty years, I’ve lived on this mountain. As soon as I got the boot from my father, I bought my cabin. Back then, it was in shambles. The poor realtor wanted to get it off her hands, and the previous owner was deceased. No one was fighting over rotten boards and overgrown weeds. It was an easy purchase, and the challenge of fixing it up kept me busy over the years.

Fairland is my home. Doesn’t matter that the streets don’t feel like it anymore—not since I stumbled back from the mountains that night, half my face ripped open, blood soaking through the makeshift bandages. The clinic lights burned brighter than the pain. The town’s whispers burned worse.

I won’t let this town scare away June. I’ll make her feel welcome.

By the time I make it to the mountain’s base, the sky is no longer blue. Painted in colors of orange, pink, and purple, I don’t linger long to enjoy the view. Not by myself. I’ll wait until she’s awake.

There isn’t much of a selection to pick from. The grocery store is the only place that hasn’t shut its doors. Coming down here a few times a month for essentials, I know they’ll have what I need. Enough to make her comfortable.

My skin crawls the moment I cross the store’s threshold. Fluorescent lights buzz like angry hornets. The cashier’s greeting dies in the air—I keep my gaze locked on the scratched counter, my throat tight with something bitter.

Thirty minutes. Just long enough to grab a few outfits and let my mind wander to her—how a soft cotton dress might cling to her hips during the warmer season, or how a sweater would smell like after she’s worn it during the colder season.

The mountain air should’ve cleared my head on the hike back. But then gravel crunches under tires, and a familiar red truck rolls up.Fairland Mountain Rescueprinted on the door like a badge.

They’re polite. Always are. And normally, I’d rather walk barefoot over broken glass than accept charity when they offer a ride.

But June’s waiting.

The truck smells of pine and stale coffee. I count the minutes.

Then I’m home. My boots hit the porch with deliberate thuds, announcing my return before I can.

The door flies open before the second step.

And there she is. Eyes wide, lips parted, hands clutching the frame like she’s been standing there for hours.

“You disappeared. I woke up, and you were gone,” she starts, breathless. Then, when she sees the bags in my hands, confusion forms.

Eager to see my return, something in my chest stirs. Approval. Satisfaction.

“Clothes,” I answer simply. “You needed them.”

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