Page 5 of Guarded By the Bigfoot
I ignored him, crouching to scoop her up from the couch. My chest tightened as her weight settled in my arms again. She was still too weak, and it pissed me off.
Calla’s eyes narrowed as she tilted her head, her wings fluttering slightly. “She should stay here. She’s barely conscious. Where else would you take her?”
“To the mountain. Keep her safe until I figure out why she’s here.”
“Well, that won’t be suspicious at all.” Finn rolled his eyes. “Strange woman appears in a storm, and the notorious recluse suddenly takes her in? We haven’t had this much excitement around here since that overgrown lizard friend of yours turned the town square into a barbecue pit.”
Calla shot him a look before turning back to me, her expression softening. “Just be careful, okay? She’s...” She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Parker’s face. “She’s fragile.”
“I know.” My voice was a low rumble as I adjusted my grip on the unconscious woman, already heading for the door. “Calla, thanks.”
I didn’t wait for her reply before shoving out into the storm again. Rain lashed my face, but I ignored it. All that mattered was getting her somewhere secure. Her head lolled against my chest with each step. Too still. Too vulnerable.
A rumbling snarl built in my throat as I clutched her tighter. She was a complication, no doubt. But something blazed through me at the thought of leaving her behind. The need to keep her close, to shield her from the storm, overwhelmed every rational instinct.
As the cavern entrance came into view, I glanced down at her pale features again. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you, little thing?”
3
PARKER
Warmth was the first thing I noticed. Not the bitter chill of the storm, but a gentle, encompassing heat that seemed to wrap around me like a cocoon. My ARC training kicked in before I opened my eyes: assess, analyze, survive. The crackle of a fire. The scent of wood smoke and autumn spices. Soft fabric beneath my fingers. A magical rhythm in the air that made my skin tingle.
I cracked one eye open, then the other. A stone fireplace dominated the wall ahead of me, its dancing flames casting flickering shadows across rough-hewn timber beams. I was sprawled on what had to be the world’s most comfortable couch, buried under what felt like a dozen quilts. Each one radiated a subtle warmth that went beyond normal fabric, definitely enchanted.
My head throbbed as I tried to piece together how I’d gotten here. The storm. The crash. Walking through the rain-soaked forest that felt endless. Then... nothing.
Pushing myself up to sitting, I noticed I wasn’t wearing my own clothes anymore. Instead, I had on what looked like a man’sflannel shirt that could’ve doubled as a dress on me, and thick wool socks that swallowed my legs. My cheeks heated at the implication, but a quick check confirmed I still had on my own underlayers. Small mercies.
My clothes were folded neatly on a nearby table, my badge placed carefully on top. Seeing it there made my stomach clench. Whoever had rescued me knew exactly who I was.
The room itself was extraordinary. Despite my apprehension, I couldn’t help but stare. Rough stone walls stretched up to exposed beams, where delicate orbs of golden light floated like captured stars. A huge oak tree grew right through one corner of the room, its branches twining with the ceiling beams, decorated with fragments of rainbows and living crystals that chimed softly in a breeze I couldn’t feel. The whole place radiated magic, old magic, deep and pure.
“You’re finally awake.”
The voice rumbled through the room like distant thunder, and I whipped around so fast my head spun. Then I forgot how to breathe.
He filled the entire doorway, all eight feet of him. Broad shoulders that could’ve blocked out the sun. Arms thick with muscle. Golden-brown fur that looked softer than it had any right to. But it was his eyes that caught me. They glowed like molten gold, the unmistakable trait of the Guardian, and they were fixed on me with an intensity that made my pulse skip.
A Bigfoot. Well, shit.
I’d dealt with plenty of supernatural creatures in my time with ARC, but never the Guardian. He was notorious for avoiding human contact, protecting his territory with fierce dedication.The fact that I was here, in what had to be his private sanctuary... Great job, Parker. Special assignment from the Director and you crash-land in Bigfoot’s living room.
“Where am I?” I managed, proud that my voice came out steady.
He moved into the room with surprising grace for someone his size, carrying a tray that steamed with what smelled like heaven itself. “Safe,” he said. “You collapsed in the storm. I brought you here.”
“Here being...?”
“My home.” He set the tray on the table and grabbed a mug of something hot for himself. “You should eat something. The fae’s healing potion works better with food.”
Fae healing. Because this situation wasn’t complicated enough already. I eyed the soup warily, my training warring with my growling stomach.
“It’s not poisoned,” he said, and was that amusement in his voice? “Though Finn’s cooking sometimes makes me wonder.”
“Finn?”
“The fae who made it. He and his wife run the café in town.” He paused, studying me. “You really should eat. You’ve been out for a few hours.”
