Page 15 of Guardian of Talon Mountain

"So this is your plan? Trap me here and ply me with caffeine until I give up?"

"Not a terrible idea," he mutters.

I lean my head back against the iron headboard and close my eyes, the ache in my ankle a dull throb beneath the burn he left on my lips. Outside, the storm shrieks—wild and unforgiving. The cabin groans beneath its weight, as if even the timber bones know what's coming. And inside me, something shifts, restless and rising like heat before a lightning strike.

I should be furious—demanding answers, but all I can focus on is the ghost of his mouth on mine, the way it ignited something hot and wild inside me I can’t extinguish.

I open my eyes and find him watching me again. The way he does—like I’m a problem he’s not sure he wants to solve.

"That map on your wall," I say, voice soft. "One of the marked routes—my brother hiked it. Before he disappeared."

He stills. "You’re sure?"

"Positive. He was staying at the Northern Lights Lodge. Mara gave me his stuff, including his trail journals. It’s one of the last places he logged."

He exhales slowly. "Then that’s where we’ll start. When the storm clears and you’re able to walk."

We.

The word wraps around something soft and raw inside me—a tether I wasn’t expecting. It lands with the gentle sting of warmth against scarred-over places, like a flare igniting beneath frost. My breath catches before I mask it, tucking the sensation away before it unravels me.

The storm slams against the cabin walls, wind shrieking like a living thing desperate to claw its way inside. The fire snaps and hisses behind me, throwing flickering shadows across the room. And between us, something wilder burns—bright, insatiable, and growing with every breath we steal from each other.

I don’t know what’s more dangerous. The threat outside…or the mountain man staring back at me with fire in his eyes.

6

CALEB

The storm hits hard, sudden and violent, like the mountain’s fury made manifest. It doesn’t just batter the cabin—it surrounds it, seething and alive, pressing in like a predator circling prey. Wind howls through the rafters, rattling the shutters like bones in a jar, and the walls shudder with each gust. It feels more like a reckoning than just weather. The kind that shakes loose everything you've tried to bury. It crashes in with a force that mirrors the storm inside me, every gust and crack of thunder a reflection of the pressure building between us. And it’s right on time.

I watch her—blanket tangled low around her hips, hair a tousled halo of temptation, eyes sharp with challenge. Her lips are swollen—kissed, red, and trembling. The air between us is thick with her arousal, subtle but impossible to ignore, like the room itself remembers what we almost did. She glares at me like she’s daring me to make the next move—whether to storm off in frustration or let her drag me under the blankets and into the heat we both know is coming.

Either way, she’s lit the fuse.

And it unravels the last thread of restraint I’ve been holding onto. That thread wasn’t thin—it was steel wire, coiledtight around everything I’d locked down and buried. Control, distance, denial. All of it snaps in an instant. There’s no going back. Not now. Not with her looking at me like that—like she knows exactly what she’s doing and dares me to stop her.

Something about Bryn Calder—hell,everythingabout her—punches through the armor I’ve spent years welding shut. I’ve walked away from gunfights calmer than I am right now. Her defiance, her mouth, her body—she’s chaos wrapped in curves, and I’ve had just about enough pretending I can keep my hands off her.

“You going to keep watching me from over there,” she says, voice low and challenging, “or are you planning to lecture me about my ankle again?”

She wants a fight. I’ll give her one—but it won’t be with words. Not with sharp comebacks or another war of wills. She may not know it, but what she’s asking for is to be pushed past reason—stripped down, devoured, until all that’s left is fire and instinct. And I’m done pretending I don’t burn for her.

My boots move before I tell them to—driven by something deeper than thought, darker than want. I stalk across the floor in three long strides, every inch of me coiled tight, muscles twitching like I’ve been holding back a tidal wave that’s finally breaking loose. The space between us vanishes. I stop at the edge of the bed, heat rolling off me in waves, my heart pounding like it’s trying to punch through bone.

“Get up,” I say, voice gravel and thunder.

She tilts her head, lips curling in that grin that makes me want to snap the headboard in half. “Pretty sure a doctor would tell me to rest...”

“I said. Up.”

She doesn’t move at first. Her eyes narrow slightly, jaw tightening just enough to show she’s running the odds—measuring power, control, and risk like a seasoned poker player.I can practically see her thoughts flicker behind those sharp blue eyes, debating whether this is a bluff or a line she actually wants me to cross. What she doesn’t know is I’ve already crossed it.

I reach down and grip her wrists, pulling her forward until she’s kneeling in front of me on the bed. Her breath whooshes out in a gasp, eyes flashing as she plants her hands on my chest for balance. The heat of her radiates through every layer between us, and when our gazes lock, the rest of the world disappears. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, dragging me closer, like she’s done pretending too. That’s all I need—permission and provocation rolled into one.

“This what you do with all your injured guests?” she breathes, but it’s not fear in her voice. It’s heat. Daring.

“Only the ones I’m going to fuck senseless.”

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