Page 4 of The Knotty Clause
She didn’t speak—just stared up at him, fear turning to cautious hope when he made no move towards her.
His voice emerged rough from disuse.
“My residence is a short distance away. You can shelter there for a night.” The words felt strange on his tongue after so long without speaking. “You’ll die out here.”
He braced himself for her rejection, for the fear to overcome the hope. From what he’d observed, these humans were not familiar with other species and regarded anyone different with suspicion. Even if she refused his assistance, he wouldn’t be able to walk away. Taking an unwilling female to his residence went against everything he’d been taught, but he couldn’t leave her—them—out here to die.
But before he had to take that step, the female’s blue-tinged lips parted. Instead of refusing his offer, she smiled up at him, a genuine, grateful smile that transformed her face.
“Thank you,” she murmured in a soft, shaky voice.
He nodded abruptly and reached for the child in her arms. She immediately reared back, clutching the small body closer. He understood she would not give up the child without a fight, but time was of the essence. The child’s temperature was dropping and she wouldn’t last long either.
“I am stronger. I can carry him safely and more quickly.”
Those green eyes met his, and he felt as if he were being measured. The moment stretched out between them, then she nodded.
“You’re right.”
She passed him the small, limp figure. A boy, he realized as he adjusted the limp weight in his arms, his fur hidden beneath layers of clothing. He tucked the child’s body closer against his chest, trying to share his warmth.
“This way.”
He stepped out of the sheltered crevice and into the full force of the storm. The wind shrieked around him, howling down from the mountain tops and the female stumbled. Keeping one arm tight around the boy, he wrapped the other around her and drew her against his side. Once again he expected her to object and once again she surprised him, leaning even closer.
His precious burdens as safe as they could be under the circumstances, he headed back to his residence.
CHAPTER 3
Gemma woke up surrounded by warmth—a feeling so forgotten that for a moment she thought she was still dreaming. Thick furs covered her, and the crackle of a nearby fire filled the air. The ceiling high above her head was composed of stone and she gave it a confused look, just before the memory of their desperate trek came rushing back.
Liam!
She jerked upright, then sighed with relief when she saw him sleeping next to her. He was still pale enough that his freckles were clearly visible, but his chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm. He didn’t seem any the worse from their encounter with the storm and even the bruise on his cheek seemed less angry in the gentle light.
What light? Where are we?
Polished logs framed the big bed where they had been sleeping, and her gaze swept over a set of wooden shelves and a chair also built from logs before snagging on the huge windows—ormore accurately, the enormous figure standing in front of the windows. Their rescuer.
She still wasn’t entirely sure why she’d agreed to go with him. Part of it had been sheer desperation and the knowledge that they couldn’t survive the storm, but there was also something oddly reassuring about that big figure and the way he’d waited so patiently for her response. When he’d put his arm around her it had felt… protective rather than alarming.
Even though she suspected he slowed his pace on her account, her legs were still weak and tired from her earlier efforts and she struggled to keep up with him. The third time she stumbled, he made an impatient noise and then he was carrying her as well.
She probably should have objected but she was so tired and the heat radiating from his body was so comforting that she didn’t want to pull away. The last thing she remembered was burying her face into that warmth, Liam tucked safely between them.
The grey light coming in through the windows must mean that it was daytime, but the snow was still swirling outside the glass. He was staring out the windows at the storm and she took the opportunity to study him. He was so clearly not human—the sweep of his horns, the thick white fur, the sheer size of him—that she should probably have been afraid. Yet there was something about the way he held himself, those broad shoulders bent as if bearing an invisible weight, that aroused her sympathy instead. He looked so alone. The emptiness of the room around them reinforced that impression of loneliness—everything functional, nothing personal. No pictures, no decorations, just the necessities.
He was wearing loose white pants tucked into heavy boots, with a wide belt around his waist. Her eyes lingered for a momenton the large knife holstered on the belt, but she still didn’t feel afraid. He was wearing an open vest and the short, velvety fur covering his torso did nothing to hide his powerful muscles.
He suddenly tensed and swung around, silver eyes focusing on her face. Her brief impression from the night before had not been wrong. The thick white mane didn’t cover his face and his strong angular features were not that dissimilar from human features. He shifted his weight awkwardly under her inspection, but remained by the windows, as if he were afraid of frightening her. Instead he gestured towards two metal mugs on the wooden table next to the bed.
“Drink. It will help,” he said in a deep, gruff voice. After a brief hesitation he added, “You’re safe here.”
She bit her lip then reached for the mug. The outside was cool to the touch but when she lifted the lid, steam curled up from the contents, rich and fragrant. The tantalizing aroma didn’t mean it was safe, but if he’d meant them harm, he’d had plenty of chances already.
“What is this?”
“It’s called zura. It has…nutrients to help you regain your strength.”