Page 5 of His Untamed Craving

Wyatt seems to sense the shift, his features sobering slightly. "How so?" he asks.

Before I can stop myself, the words come tumbling out, fueled by that strange intimacy this untamed expanse seems to breed. "I spent most of my childhood cooped up in a shoebox apartment in the heart of the city, sharing a room with all my siblings and dreaming about wide open spaces like this."

I sweep my arms out, gesturing to the endless stretch of rugged peaks and valleys sprawling around us. "Somedays, it felt like those four dingy walls were closing in, suffocating me. So I got out the first chance I had. Traded it all in to live out of a van and chase adventures on the open road."

Wyatt's eyes widen slightly at this admission, intrigued. "You're living in a van? Seriously?"

I nod, unable to stop my smile from widening at his surprise. "Yep, just me, my trusty van, and the wilderness. Best decision I ever made."

He considers this for a moment, curiosity evident. "But don't you ever want... I dunno, to put down roots somewhere? Have a real home base?"

I shrug, used to the question but still not sure how to answer. "It may not be the most conventional setup, but out here on the road, exploring new places? That's where I feel most at peace, most free."

Wyatt's quiet for a long moment beside me, digesting my words. When he speaks again, his deep rumble is laced with a surprising gentleness. "Well, whatever drove you out here, I gotta hand it to you—you've got skills, Delgado. Not many greenhorns would make it this far without crapping out."

A surprised laugh bubbles up from my chest at his typical lack of delicacy. "Gee, you sure know how to make a girl swoon." I bump his shoulder with mine playfully. "But I'll take it."

Wyatt's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Don't get too cocky yet. We're just getting started."

Conversation dwindles as the trail kicks up again, growing steeper as we draw closer to the Fang's sheer granite face. We fall into our rhythm again, and I dig my boots into the rocky path, muscles straining against the punishing incline.

Wyatt glances over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he surveys the path ahead. "Watch your step up here. Looks like a recent rockslide left this ridge a damn minefield."

Sure enough, the trail narrows into a precarious ridge crossing, the path littered with loose shale and unstable rubble. One wrong move could easily send us sliding hundreds of feet down that steep precipice. My pulse kicks up a notch.

Rather than looking deterred, Wyatt simply sets his jaw. "Stay right behind me and only step where I step."

He takes the lead, carefully picking his way across the hazardous crossing with a mountain goat's sure-footedness. I trail in his wake, matching his precise movements with laser focus.

About halfway across, the path bottlenecks around a particularly unstable patch. Wyatt pauses, studying the treacherous stretch for a long beat. Finally, he glances over his shoulder at me. "Delgado, you're gonna want to—"

His instructions are cut short as a dislodged rock suddenly shifts beneath my boot. In a heartbeat, my world tilts sickeningly as I lose my tenuous foothold on that razor's edge.

A startled cry tears from my lips as I pinwheel backward, grasping at empty air. This is it—one false move, and I'm about to become a permanent addition to this godforsaken mountain.

Then, just as the yawning chasm threatens to swallow me whole, a powerful arm wraps around my waist, hauling me flush against a rock-solid chest with a bone-jarring force that drives the breath from my lungs.

I blink dazedly, finding myself staring straight into Wyatt's rugged, chiseled features mere inches from my own. His arm is an unbreakable vise cinched around my midsection, the only thing anchoring me to solid ground.

"Easy there." The words are a low, guttural rasp, his warm breath fanning across my parted lips. "I've got you."

For a moment, neither of us moves, the world seeming to grind to a halt. Wyatt's intense stare bores into me, sparking heat low in my core.

Then, as swiftly as it began, the moment's over. Wyatt clears his throat, releasing me from his iron grip. The sudden loss of his body's solid weight against me leaves me unbalanced, reeling.

I force myself to take a deep, steadying breath, trying like hell to ignore the thunderous pounding in my chest. "Uh... thanks for the save."

"Don't mention it." Wyatt's already turning away, his broad shoulders squared as he refocuses on the path ahead. "Just watch your footing from here on out."

We make our way across the rest of the ridge crossing without incident, finally arriving at a small, grassy hanging valley nestled between the granite spires. Shrugging off my pack, I take in our surroundings with a deep, satisfied breath.

"Not a bad spot to make camp, huh?" I gesture to the pristine alpine meadow, ringed by soaring granite walls that seem to glow orange in the fading evening light.

Wyatt grunts his agreement as he sets to work unpacking his gear, that familiar intense focus etched across his rugged features. I can't seem to tear my eyes from the flex and pull of those broad, muscular shoulders as he works. Christ, this man is a walking thirst trap.

Shaking myself from my hormone-addled daze, I set up my tent and gather some kindling to start our fire pit. By the time I've got the crackling flames dancing, Wyatt's finished with his tasks, settling across from me on a nearby rock.

For a few beats, we sit in surprisingly comfortable silence, the soft crackle of burning wood filling the stillness. My eyes keep wandering over to study the man beside me, taking in the sharp angles of his jaw and the way those tousled chestnut locks fall across his brow.