I keep my eyes peeled for mountains. Whenever there's a break in the trees, I squint and try to find them again. They're a huge landmark, looming in the distance. I don't need to know how to reach them. As long as I see them in front of me, I’m heading in the right direction. For most of the morning, the mountains are straight ahead.
Until they're not.
Mountains don't get up and move. As crazy as this side of the mirror is, this… this Other, I'm pretty sure mountains stay put. So when the mountains are on my left the next time I see them, I realize something. Hunter’s shepherding me away from them.
“Hunter.”
The wind swallows my call. It’s drizzling again.
A little louder then.
“Hunter?”
Still nothing. After a couple of awkward hops, I'm right behind him. I reach out and give his cloak a tug.
He whirls on me so quickly, his cloak flares around him with his speed. Spattered raindrops slap me in my face.
His jaw is tensed. Glowering down at me, he snaps, “You need something, darlin’?”
The tone. God, his damn tone. As if his glare isn’t enough, the way he snaps at me puts my back up. “Yeah, I need to know why you’re leading me the wrong way.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Look.” I point. “That’s the mountain. Over there. Waaay over there. As in the way that we’re currently not going.”
Hunter yanks on his hood, hiding everything from his forehead to his nose. Rain drips from his chin as he turns, following my point. He sniffs. “I know where I’m goin’.”
“Sure, okay, but—”
“Trust me.”
Not likely. “I want—”
“Noelle. Please. Trust me. I know where I’m goin’.”
I certainly hope so. But trust him? Nope. Not yet. He hasn’t earned that yet, not from me. As grateful as I am that he’s saved my life—twice now—I can’t trust him. I don’t know him.
Even if, at times, I feel like I do.
It hits me that this is the most talking he’s done since the whole arrow thing. From what I can tell, Hunter’s not really a big talker and I sure didn’t push after I had to patch him up. Something’s been nagging me, something I’ve been itching to ask.
He wants me to follow him blindly? I’ll be damned if I don’t get him to admit where I’m following him to.
“Into the Other?”
“Pardon?”
“That’s where we’re going, right? The Other?” When he doesn’t answer me, I get snappish myself. “Come on. The Other. When you were trying to convince me to leave you, you said to get out of the Other. It’s what you called this weirdo place.”
Hunter purses his lips. “It’s not the real world. Not the world you’re trying to get back to. It’s… it’s other. What else would I call it?”
He has a point. “Okay. Fine. The Other. Sure. And we’re still looking for a way out? Right?”
“This is only a break in the clouds,” he says in answer. “Rain will start up again soon. Let’s go.”
Hunter isn’t wrong. The rain returns with a vengeance a few minutes after I begrudgingly stomp off after him. All I can see in front of me is a curtain of rain and a big brown blur that I’m really hoping is my forest guide. After the morning we had, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ditched me during the storm and I was trailing after a grizzly bear.
Then I hear his Southern drawl cutting through the constant plop-plop-plop of the rain splashing down on us. “Pick up the pace, darlin’. Shelter’s just ahead.”
Not a grizzly then. From his growl, though, it’s kind of hard to tell.
Pulling my hood close, I bow my head and move. Right now? Shelter is sounding pretty good. The mountains can wait.
Lucky for us, this second torrent of rain stops almost as quickly as it started. The sky lightens, the stormy, violent purple paling to a soft blue. Beneath my cloak, I fold my hands and mutter a quick wish. No more rain, please. I feel like a drowned rat. My ankles are caked in mud. Blades of grass and wind-torn leaves stick to my cloak, my calves, my feet. The hood protected most of my head, with the hairs framing my face plastered to my cheeks. Shivering, I continue to slog through the flooded forest ground.
Shelter. I like shelter.
The trees open up. Wiping the last of the raindrops from my forehead, I see a cabin not too far away. I blink, making sure I’m seeing this right. It’s a friggin’ log cabin. I mean, straight out of an elementary school history book, the ones where they show a picture of the shabby cabin Abraham Lincoln called home. Stacks of weathered logs make up the frame, with two windows, a chimney and a solid door carved from a lighter shade of wood.
When he said shelter, I expected another lean-to or, I don’t know, a massive oak tree to duck under. Instead, he leads me to an honest-to-God log cabin in the middle of the woods.
Wow.
Hunter heads for it, stalking forward like he owns it. My brain catches up a few seconds later. Duh. When he changed his path, it wasn’t just because he was looking for shelter. He said he knows where he’s going.
I followed him home.
No, no, no. Rain’s stopped. I have a feeling, if I go inside that cabin, it’s going to be a while before we head out again. There’s no time to waste. I want to go back to my condo. I want to go to my home.
“We don’t need to stop anymore,” I call after him. “We beat the rain, Hunter. I want to go to the mountains. You said you’d take me.”
He lowers his hood. It’s like a gut punch every time he does that and I’m not expecting it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the way he looks.
“We are, darlin’. I gave you my word and a man’s nothing without his word. But I’ve been thinkin’. It’s a hike up to the caves. We ain’t prepared the way we ought to be. Here at my cabin, I’ve got supplies. Figured we could stop in, get dry, maybe spend the night over. We can set out again tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Seriously? No. I want to go home now.
I open my mouth—
“‘Sides, my shoulder… it’s achin’ something awful. I want to take a peek, check the wound, change the bandage. I can clean up better here.”
My jaw clicks as I shut my trap.
He’s good. We barely met and he already knows exactly what buttons to press. How can I insist he bring me up the mountain after what happened this morning? When it was my fault?
What’s one more night? At least he has a cabin. That’s one step up from his tent. Dud might be waiting for me—since I’m not due back to work for a week, he’s probably the only one—but he has his cat door. I know he can take care of himself.
I only wish I could say the same about me.
I glance around. There’s a lot of open space surrounding Hunter’s cabin. Anyone—or anything—could be hiding in the trees. Scorpions. Archers. Who the hell knows what else?
My voice quivers as I wonder out loud, “Is it safe here?”
“It’s the hunter’s cabin. For you, darlin’, there’s no place safer.”
You know what? I’ll take it.
After gingerly removing his bow and his bag from his good shoulder, Hunter sets them on the ground before striding toward the door. Wary and curious at the same time, I step carefully through the slick grass until I’m right behind him.
The door isn’t locked, the knob turning easily under his massive hand. He gestures for me to wait as he sticks his head inside. A whistle cuts through the air. I jump, moving right up Hunter’s ass. It takes me a second to realize he was the one who whistled. I back away in time for him to turn around.
“Seems all clear,” he tells me, “but I haven’t been by the cabin in a bit. It’s stuffy inside. We’re gonna have to let it air out some before we go in. You hungry? I was thinkin’ about smokin’ the rest of the deer meat. I can sear some up for you first, if ya like.”
Ah, hell. I feel like crap. Between my worries and my guilt, I’d had some not so nice thoughts about Hunter all
morning. Not only has he brought me to his home so we can get some rest, now he’s trying to feed me again.
I’ve had long-term boyfriends who didn’t do half of what Hunter’s done for me in two days. Not one of those bums would’ve held a door open for me. And then there’s this guy, a man I hardly know, who’s already saved my life.
Twice.
My stomach tightens. I fake a grin. “Maybe later.”
“Sure thing.” He bends over and retrieves his bundle of supplies. The deer meat is in there. He jerks his head to his right. “Come ‘round back. Let me show you the outside of the cabin while we wait.”
My grin falters. This guy is still trying to take care of me, like I’m some chore he got saddled with. That really bothers me. I’ve been on my own for the last seven years, ever since my mom died when I was nineteen. I never knew my dad. It’s just me. I’m definitely not used to relying on someone else.
I want to be the Noelle who kicked a monster’s ass with nothing except an old gymnastics move and a pointy stick. The scare with the arrow spooked me more than I thought. All afternoon I’ve been jumpy, sticking close to Hunter.
Maybe a little distance would do me some good.
“That’s not necessary.” A quick innocent grin pulls on my lips. I probably look deranged. I push on anyway. “I kinda thought I would take a look around myself. You can stay here.”
He doesn’t say anything at first. He eyes me closely, searching my expression for something. Innocent. Think innocent. Why don’t I have a pair of deceivingly sweet dimples? Shit! Because I might not know much about Ryan Hunter, but it’s a fair bet that if he has half a clue I’m trying to prove myself, he’ll find some way to stop me.
Finally, he nods. “Don’t go too far,” he warns.
I’m not planning on it. “Because the Other is dangerous?”
“That’s right, darlin’.”
I’m careful. A crackle of a leaf, the snap of a twig, the high-pitched trill of a bird in the branches—I react to all of it. My knife’s hilt leaves a mark on the inside of my hand, I’m squeezing it so damn hard. If a chipmunk scampered out in front of me, I might’ve thrown my knife at it from pure nerves.
Before long, though, I start to relax. I’m not used to walking around outside like this and it’s, well, kind of nice. I breathe in deep. The air is clean and clear, nothing like the exhaust fumes and dumpster stink that greets me every time I leave my condo. And it’s quiet. Super quiet.
Except for the birds. And the rustling within earshot. Since nothing comes rushing at me to attack, I’m not too worried. Besides, I have my knife. Way better than a stick.
I’ve probably been gone for half an hour. I needed the alone time, needed to think without Hunter as a distraction. Going home is my number one priority, but I’d be lying if I said I was cool with leaving him behind in the Other in his shape. It sucks that we had to put off going to the mountains. I get it, though. He’s hurt. Considering I’m the reason he’s walking around with a hole in his arm, the least I can do is stick around until he’s feeling better. Pushing him to hike isn’t fair. He deserves better than that.
At some point I’m going to have to go back to the cabin. It was selfish of me, heading off into the woods by myself when all he wanted was to show me the outside of his place. My cloak hangs heavy on my shoulders. The mud spattering my bare legs has dried, making me itchy. More than anything else, I need a damn bath.
I stop, bending low to scratch my calf. My hands are filthy, blood and dirt trapped beneath my stubby nails. With a grimace, I straighten, wiping my palms against the slick leather. Bath, I think again. Hunter has a cabin. Maybe he has a shower. Tub. Scrub brush. Anything.
That thought in mind, I turn around. Because it was a safe bet I’d get lost, I purposely walked in a straight line. It made sense to me. Walk straight, turn around, head back. Except, now that I’m ready to return, I’m not so sure that that was the best idea.
Nothing looks familiar. I could be facing the right direction or, if I’m even a little off, I could be moving even farther away from the cabin and the gorgeous huntsman who is my ticket back home.
Good going, Noelle. Wonderful.
I glance around, hoping for some kind of sign that this is the right way to go. It’s like the year I took the wrong exit off the Turnpike and ended up an hour in the wrong direction from the winter flea market. I thought I knew where I was going. Nope. Not even close.
Ah, hell. I’m lost.
Ugh. Hunter’s gonna have one hell of an “I told you so” for me—if I can find my way back.
Okay. I can do this. With another half turn, I look around again and, this time, I do a double-take. About twenty feet away from me, I catch sight of a row of high bushes surrounding a crooked, twisted tree with a crown of pale orange, wispy leaves.
Any other day, the weirdo tree would be enough to make me stare. Not today. Today, it’s the shaggy, furry rump with a stubby, twitchy short tail that’s stuck in the bushes.
It might be a goat. I squint. Yeah. I’m going with goat.
I tiptoe toward it, thinking I can help it. I don’t want to spook it so I step as lightly as I can. When I come within ten feet of it, I click my tongue, the same way I do when I’m calling Dudley for his supper.
“Hey there, little guy. Don’t be afraid. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
As if he heard me, the goat starts stamping in place, fighting against the foliage. It wobbles and huffs, pulling its body out of the bush. I tiptoe closer, torn between wanting to help set it free and afraid that, if I grab its haunches and pull, the critter will trample me.
It’s a pretty big goat.
I hover, though it’s pretty obvious after a few seconds that the goat doesn’t need my help. So, instead of moving forward or turning around again, I wait, just in case. Backing up, the goat takes a few more steps away from the bush. It moves awkwardly, a clumsy gait that makes me think it might’ve hurt one of its legs.
Poor thing.
It clears the greenery. I blink. Then I stare. I can’t help it.
The reason it wobbles as it walks? It’s missing a couple of legs. Goats—goats are supposed to have four. The thing that straightens up and turns to gawk at me only has two.
I jump back so fast, I nearly slip in my sandals. What the—
The back half is totally goat. I’m not wrong there. From cloven hooves to furry legs and the high arch of its rump, it’s definitely a goat. But, when it frees itself and turns around, I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. Bottom half, goat. Top half? Not.
From the torso up, this… this thing is a man, complete with a bare flabby belly and a beard that covers half of his face. The hair on his head is thick and curly and dark, the same dark shade as the color of his pelt. A pair of gnarled, twisty, pointed horns jut from the corners of his forehead and back over his scalp.
If I had any doubts this creature is a dude, they’re gone the second my eyes dip back down to his goat legs only to snag on the monster woody he’s sporting. His cock is as long as my forearm, thick as my wrist, pointing up and away from the curly fur that covers the rest of his junk. It makes his tail look like a joke.
Holy shit. You have got to be kidding.
13
Just my luck.
Because I wanted to prove that I wasn’t some damsel in distress, I took a walk by myself into the Other and found… well, hell, I don’t know what that goat-man-thing is. From the way he grabs his cock and licks his lips, I’ve got a pretty good idea what he’s thinking.
My right hand grips my knife. My left yanks the hem of my nightgown down.
Uh-uh. Nope.
“Mmm. Look at you, girlie, eyeing me. Like what you see?”
My back goes up. I don’t know what’s worse: the leer, the way he gives himself a stroke, or the disrespectful way he spoke to me.
To me.
Despite my disgust, I move closer to him. I’m standing straight, as tall as I can go, and it warms me to see tha
t he barely comes up to my chest. For once, the huntress is bigger than her prey.
“You dare.”
Another wag in my direction. “Oh, beauty, I’ll do more than that if—”
I raise my voice. It comes out like a boom. “You pitiful creature, you dare.”
His erection immediately deflates. Just poof and he goes limp. He looks ill, like he’s going to hurl. The next instant, he does a little hop on his goat feet before throwing himself at the grass. I think he might be trying to kneel.
Good.
“My lady!” He gasps. “I… I didn't know you returned.” A nervous sound, like a bleat. “I never would have—”
“To me? No.” I can feel my own lips sneer. “I believe that. But to my sisters, my charges? I've hunted for less of an insult.”
“No insult. No harm. It was a joke, my lady. A jest. I meant nothing by it. Forgive me!”
A joke? “I'm.” I lift my arms up over my head. “Not.” Thunder rolls in the distance. Or maybe that’s the angry thud of my pulse. “Laughing.”
He lets out a squeal, and what sounds like a garbled curse in a language I should know, before crying out, “Lady Artemis, please. I never meant to offend!”
He didn’t want to offend.
I narrow my gaze, the tip of the knife held lightly between three fingertips. All it would take is a flick of my wrist and he wouldn’t dare attack another helpless female again. I aim and—
“Noelle. When you didn't come back, I started to track you, and—”
Hunter.
He’s not wearing his cloak. That’s the first thing I notice. His jaw is hard, the chiseled lines of his profile as dazzling as the last time I saw him without his hood. For a moment, I’m stunned, openly staring at his masculine beauty. Hunter is strong. Virile. Manly.
My breath quickens.
The look on Hunter’s face is suddenly terrible. As he comes marching further into the small clearing, he sees me, then the half goat-half man, and his features twist into a look of absolute fury. With a jerky move, he pulls his sword free from his belt. His motion is stiff and tight—thanks to the hole in his arm—but damn if he doesn’t hold that sword up without wavering.
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