Prologue

Prologue

        Panting, crystalized breaths wrapped around his head as he stood upon the cliffside staring down at the crashing waves below. Angry clouds stretched out over the whitecapped ocean, releasing sheets of freezing rain that pelted against his bare skin. As those frigid drops washed down him, they mixed with  blood and ran in red rivers down his legs onto the rocks below. 

        The braying of dogs from the forest behind him filled his ears above the crashing of the waves and the rage of the wind. The irony that his pursuers were using dogs in their pursuit was not lost on him. 

        He had run as far as he could go but stopping here was not an option. He could not, would not, go back to that prison. Freedom or death were his only choices and he would find neither if he remained here for his would be captors to find. They would not kill him, no, they had much worse plans in mind. They would take him back and put him back into service—hunting and killing for the master. 

        No more. If he couldn't be free, he would rather be dead. 

        Taking as deep a breath as his burning lungs would allow, he knew what he had to do. The dive off this cliff could break his body. It could leave him helpless on the rocks below, could drown him in the angry waters, could end his life. Or, he just might survive the jump and manage to escape those pursuing him—not very likely. Yet, it was a chance he was very willing to take. 

        Just as he heard the footsteps and calls of his pursuers coming out of the trees, and the clicks of the dog claws on the rocks behind him, he took two steps back, drew in a deep, steadying breath, and ran for the edge before leaping off to what he was sure would be his death.

Chapter One

Chapter One

Constance stepped into the one-room schoolhouse and shivered as her breath swirled around her head. Wrapping her wool coat tighter around her, she grabbed some wood with her gloved hands and tossed them into the stove in the corner of the room. After lighting a fire to drive the winter chill from the school, Constance grabbed the broom and began to tidy up the building in anticipation of her students’ arrival.

        At twenty-eight, Constance had settled into her life here in this quiet Montana town. As a matter-of-fact, everything in Constance's life had happened very quietly. Her father had quietly died of fever. She and her mother had quietly moved to this small town where her grandparents had settled—and died. Constance's mother had quietly remarried the local gunsmith. Constance had quietly reached adulthood, failed to find a suitable husband, fallen into spinsterhood, attained her job as school teacher, and moved into her own small cottage just outside of town at the edge of the forest. 

        Yes, her life was indeed very quiet, predictable, and a tad lonely. Her mother was upset with her failure to find a husband and did not approve of her living alone. Constance, however, knew that living with her mother and stepfather was not an option. She and her mother could get along just fine—but only in small doses. 

        Small voices grew louder outside the front door, and Constance smiled knowing her students were arriving right on time. The door flew open, bringing with it a gust of bitter wind and grinning faces. "Miss Masters! Miss Masters! Guess what I got?" 

        Constance leaned the broom against the wall, slid out of her coat and gloves and greeted the bouncing children at the door. "What did you get, Lily?" 

        Five children burst into the school room behind Lily and began to take off their coats, gloves, and hats, shoving them into the cabinet by the door. "I got a puppy!" Lily exclaimed, her pink cheeks spreading as she smiled and her black pigtails bouncing as she did. "Can you believe that? My pa got me a puppy! It's small and black and white and brown. Can I bring it to school tomorrow? Can I?"

        Constance smiled as she processed the excited words flowing from Lily's mouth. The girl was always talkative, hyper, and happy. Teaching was the one aspect of Constance's life that most certainly wasn't quiet. Constance never attempted to destroy that bouncing enthusiasm in the girl however. She knew that Lily's homelife was a tough one with no mother and a father who tended to drink too much, stay a bit angry, never buy enough food, and then buy gifts now and then in an attempt to make amends. 

“I don’t see why not, Lily. As a matter of fact, tomorrow we can have show and tell and everyone can bring something they love from home and show it off to the class.”

        All six of her students cheered and Constance waited patiently for the noise and excitement to die down. Then she clapped her hands to gain their attention. "Let's get to our seats, everyone, and start our lessons." 

        Constance spent the rest of the day teaching varying lessons to the children in her care. The oldest was twelve and the youngest was eight and Constance loved watching them as they struggled to understand a new topic before lighting up as they began to understand and grasp it.

        When the school day was over and the children had gone, Constance swept the floors once again, cleaned the slate boards, donned her coat and gloves, refilled the wood box for school the next day, and then it was time to head home. 

        The twenty minute walk home was miserable. The wind was growing more fierce and frigid. Large, fat snowflakes were beginning to fall steadily from angry gray clouds. It appeared a storm was beginning, and as the ground quickly turned white around her, Constance knew that show and tell would not be happening at school tomorrow. She had lived here long enough to know that this weather was bringing in a blizzard. 

        Constance topped over a small hill and her tiny stone cottage came into view. It sat roughly twenty yards from the tree line of a thick forest. A small wooden chicken coop sat near the cottage and halfway between the woods and the cottage sat an outhouse. There was also a storage shed in the side yard. Constance loved her home. When spring came she would plant a large vegetable garden and another garden of flowers just because she loved the sight and scent of them. Her mother found that wasteful but Constance did not overly trouble herself with the woman's opinion. 

        After feeding her chickens, Constance gathered an armful of wood from beneath the extended eve beside the cottage and headed inside. The inside of her cottage was just as dear to her as the outside. The one main room had a kitchen on one side with a small dining table, a large woodstove complete with four burners, a sink that drained through a pipe to the outside, plenty of counterspace, and rows of white painted cabinets. 

The top half of the plaster walls were painted a light green with dark brown trim running along the center and flower patterned paper on the lower half of the walls below. A small yellow sofa sat before the fireplace and on either side of the large oak mantel shelves full of books lined the walls. A brown armchair sat beside a window with a side table and small oil lamp glowing against the light yellow curtains.

The house was cold and Constance was quick to start a fire in the stove to bring some warmth. Taking off her gloves and coat, she hung them by the door and began to cook herself a quick supper of eggs and potatoes to fill her belly.

        Darkness was heavy outside when she finished washing up the few dishes she had dirtied. Constance changed into her sleeping gown in the glow of glowing kerosene lamps. She pulled her warm robe over it, cinched it at the waist, and settled into her armchair with a blanket and a good book to lose herself inside the pages for a while. 

        It was just after ten that night, the snow was falling harder, and the wind was buffeting against the cabin walls, when Constance heard a hard thud against the front door. She leapt to her feet, tossed her book in the chair, and wrapped her robe tighter as her heart pounded. 

        What could that have been? It hadn't been a knock. The sound wasn't right for a knock and it had only come once. Even a knock would have been concerning this late at night in the storm but a thud? A thud was downright frightening. 

        "Who's there?" she called out, instantly cursing herself a fool. As if some unknown threat was simply going to say, 

‘Oh, it’s just me, coming around for a quick chat. Or possibly to kill you. Do you have the time?’

        Constance glanced out the window but between the snow and the darkness she could not see a thing. Having lived alone for the last five years, Constance was not helpless. She grabbed a pistol from a shelf beside the door and took a deep breath to steady herself before unlocking the bolt and pulling the heavy piece of wood open. 

        Lamplight flooded out the door, illuminating the snow and the rather shocking and unexpected sight she found lying out in the deepening drifts. Laying in the snow was a large, rather muscular, seemingly unconscious, and very much naked man. Constance shivered and told herself it was simply from the cold as she lowered the gun and tilted her head. "Oh my juniper berries....."

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

        Staring down at the naked man in the building snow, Constance wasn't entirely sure what to do. She could see the glint of blood in the lantern light, and while she was unable to determine his injuries in the current weather and darkness, she knew the blood meant he must have some. Constance could not leave him where he was. If she did, his injuries wouldn't matter because he would very quickly freeze to death. Which led to the question, why was he wandering naked and bloody on a winter Montana night?

        "Sir?" Constance reached out with her foot and nudged his shoulder gently. He was curled tight in the fetal position. Her nudge did little to rouse the stranger but his shivering increased. If he was not brought inside to warm up it would soon be too late. 

Setting her revolver inside the cabin on a small table beside the door, Constance returned to the man and pondered the hows of getting him inside. “Sir? Can you wake up, please?” Nudging him once again with her foot, this time a bit harder, Constance had been hoping for a small reaction—perhaps a moan or the fluttering of an eyelid. What she hadn’t been expecting was for his eyes to suddenly fly open and for the giant of a man to leap to his feet and charge at her, pinning Constance to the cabin wall.

        Despite the biting cold of the air around them, the man exuded heat—almost oppressively. He towered over her five foot two inch frame and she was completely enclosed within him as he kept one hand on her chest, pinning her to the stone and the other hand braced on the wall behind her. The rest of his body was tight to hers, holding her still quite effectively.  Constance struggled to breathe as she raised her gaze upward away from his muscular, blood streaked chest and to his face. It was hard to make out features given the darkness, the blood, and the battering snowflakes but she could still practically taste his fear. The man was terrified, not angry, and like a cornered animal he was lashing out and attacking the nearest thing. 

        "Sir?" Constance attempted to shove him away but she may as well have been pushing an oak tree. She felt her knees tremble a bit as her hands made contact with his bare expanse of hard, sculpted chest. Never in her life had Constance been anywhere near a naked man, let alone had one pressed so closely to her. 

        "Who are you?" he growled—his voice deep and guttural, almost animalistic.

        Constance swallowed hard and forced herself to look into his eyes—eyes she was certain were such a dark brown they were nearly black—though it was hard to tell given the current situation. "I am the woman whose door you fell against. The woman who is very likely going to freeze to death right along with you if you don't let me go and allow me to help you into my home and out of the blizzard." 

        He blinked several times, his nostrils flared as if he were smelling something, and then he took his eyes off her and glanced around them. "Where am I?" 

        Oh dear... had the man gotten a head injury? "At my house," Constance repeated. She felt a cold blast of wind rocket against them and shivered. She should be colder than she was, but the man was a furnace and it was helping shelter her a bit. But how was he a furnace? It was below freezing and pouring the snow. Was he fevered? That could explain his apparent confusion as well as the body heat. 

        "Sir, please can we get inside? It's cold and I'm afraid you may have a fever..." 

        "You're cold?" he asked, those eyes she couldn't quite make out the details of snapped back to her face. "You shouldn't be out here." 

        Constance's gaze went skyward. "And I wouldn't be if you would simply let me go and allow me to take you inside and tend to your wounds." 

        He moved quickly, stepping away from her and taking his warmth with him. Instantly, Constance's body was sapped of any heat by the angry wind. "Let's get you inside," she offered, turning toward the door. 

        The man took a step and his leg buckled. Constance leapt for him, supporting him the best she could. He offered little help, just enough to make it possible for her to drag him into the tiny cottage and deposit him, unceremoniously upon the sofa. 

        She quickly grabbed a quilt and tossed it over him to hide his nakedness before returning to the door and closing it quickly, blocking out the storm and setting the lock securely in place. 

        "Now what...." She muttered to herself in the silence. Her house guest had fallen back into unconsciousness and her worry for his welfare grew. 

        Going into the kitchen, she poured a bit of water from the pitcher into a pot and placed it upon the stove to warm. Constance returned to the man with the warm water and a rag and began to take stock of his injuries—and appearance. 

        He was well over six feet tall and his body dwarfed the sofa he was sprawled upon. His hair was dark, hung nearly to his shoulders and was matted with what seemed to be a mixture of mud and blood. His dirt-streaked body was covered in hard, rolling muscles and numerous scars that stood out in sharp contrast to his tanned, filthy skin.  

        Constance ran the rag over his bearded chin, wondering how long he'd been without a shave. He wasn't handsome—not in a classical way. He had a rugged appearance. Somewhat harsh and dangerous. A scar ran through his right brow, cutting a path through the hair and ended at the corner of his eye. It was clear this man had lived a hard life—did that mean she'd been a fool to attempt to help him? Would he harm her once she healed him?

        Constance could only hope the answer to that question was no. 

        With a deep breath she set about finding his wounds, the worst of which appeared to be on his left thigh. A deep gash ran nearly six inches and was still oozing blood. After wiping the cut as clean as she could with the rag and warm water, Constance grabbed a small bottle of whiskey and her sewing kit. She poured a bit of the alcohol over the wounds causing the man to moan and shift his head but not awaken. 

        She ran her thread though the eye of a needle and began sewing the wound closed, her worry growing for the man when he didn't seem to notice in his current state. Once the wound was closed, she poured a little more whiskey over it before coating it in an antiseptic ointment she made herself from forest plants and wrapped a ripped piece of one of her sheets around his leg as a bandage. 

        The rest of his wounds didn't require stitching. Several deep scratches marred his left arm, and his ribs were badly bruised on that side. They may even be broken but Constance was no doctor and there was no getting a doctor to him or getting the man to a doctor until the weather broke. Other bruises, ugly and purple, were spread randomly across his body. She could only hope that nothing was punctured or wounded inside him. 

        Tiny scratches covered the rest of him as if he'd been running through thorn bushes. There wasn't much she could do for them other than clean them and place a tiny bit of ointment upon each one she found. 

        Once she was done with that task, Constance laid her wrist upon his brow to check for fever, surprised when, despite his body heat, the man did not seem to be fevered. There was a large lump and small gash upon the back of his head beneath his matted hair. That would probably account for his addled state and confusion outside. 

        Constance wrapped him up tighter in the quilt to keep him warm, stoked the fire, and cleaned up the mess she'd made tending his injuries. When that was done and the man was still silent and still upon the sofa, Constance turned off the lamps and settled into bed, keeping her revolver near her. She might have helped the man when he'd seem to need it, but she wouldn't hesitate to shoot him if he seemed to need that should he wake up and choose violence. 

        For a long while, as Constance lay there in the darkness, sleep evaded her. Her mind was racing with questions. Who was this man? Would he recover? Would she somehow have to explain a naked male corpse to the undertaker in town when she fetched him to retrieve the body? And if he did wake up, what would he do? Had Constance helped a friendly stranger or had she just made herself vulnerable to a dangerous enemy?

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The ticking of an unfamiliar clock was the first sound to reach his ears upon wakening. There were other sounds. More distant sounds. Chickens. Light snowfall. But nearer he could hear gentle, steady breathing. Then came the scents. Alcohol, a strong mix of plants that had a medicinal quality, faint smoke from burning wood, and then there was her. She smelled like the forest. Cedar and pine. Dew laying gently on moss covered rocks. The damp earth and the pure, forest air. Her scent called to something deep inside him. It whispered in a language his soul understood. Home. She smelled like home.

        It was that scent that had led him to her door last night. That scent that had been impossible for him to ignore—impossible to resist. But he did not remember coming into her home. He knew that's where he was. Her scent was far too strong for him to be anywhere else. And it was also clear that she lived here alone as no other human scents dirtied the air. 

The last thing he remembered from last night was collapsing at her door. Something must have alerted her to his presence and rather than leave him to the elements outside, which would have been the wise thing to do, she had let him in—and tended to his wounds if the scent of the medicine was any indication. If he’d been awake, he would have told her not to bother. That was one of the very few positives that came from being what he was. He had the ability to heal very quickly.

        Though, even he was no expert on what he was. He had no memories of his life. No memories of who he was. No memories at all up until the last two months. He'd woken on the banks of a river, his body mangled among the rocks and his head cracked open so badly he was certain some of his brains had to have slipped out. And that was that. 

        He had spent the last two months running. He had no real idea what he was running from but some deep instinct, something primal and unshakable had caused his legs to move. At times he felt that there was something living within him. Some hungry animal clawing at his skin from the inside desperate to be free to run, to hunt, to kill. And then there were the times he would feel that animal take control, he would black out, lose time, and awake nude and covered in new blood and wounds that had no explanation he could recall. 

        Yes, he knew next to nothing about who he was, where he was from, or where he was going. All he did know was that he was dangerous. A monster, a hunter, a killer. 

        Slowly, he opened his eyes and took in the small cottage he'd waken up inside. In the last two months, he'd only been inside a handful of buildings. Being between four walls, he'd found, caused him to feel trapped, on edge, and desperate to find freedom and fresh air. He didn't feel that way here. He felt safe and at peace. There was only one explanation for that. 

        His gaze went to a closed door that he knew 

she must be sleeping behind. Her scent. Home. It was calming the monster living beneath his skin and chasing away the fear and desperation he’d been running from for months.

        The beast inside him longed to open that door, slip beneath her covers, pull her body close to him and lose himself in her scent. The man in him was tempted to do the same. But that was insane, surely? He didn't know her name, didn't know what she looked like, couldn't remember her at all.... And yet all he wanted was her. 

        He had to leave. He was dangerous.  A monster. What if the beast took over again and he harmed the woman who had helped him? He took his time getting to his feet. His wounds were healing but his body ached and his stomach roared with hunger. 

        Moving with a silence that only experience could account for, he went to the small kitchen and moved a floral dishtowel from a basket to find several leftover biscuits beneath. Grabbing one, he shoved the entire thing into his mouth, savoring the fluffy texture and buttery flavor. Grabbing two more, he headed for the front door. 

        To keep 

her safe, he would force his legs to leave her home, even with every bit of the man and the beast within him longing to stay. The closer he got to the front door, the more the beast within him clawed, scratched, and fought against him for control. Fighting back with all he had was proving not to be enough. Instead of heading toward the front door, his feet began to carry him toward her bedroom door. Toward her.

        Before the monster could reach her door, it was suddenly thrown open and there 

she was.

        Her full, soft body was wrapped in a thick yellow robe that hung nearly to the floor revealing her tiny bare feet. Her arms folded across her chest in a defensive manner as his eyes were drawn upward. Dark hair, full of untamed waves tumbled across her shoulders. Her full bottom lip and thinner top lip were pulled down in a frown below an upturned nose and guarded brown eyes. A line of worry creased the space between her arched brows. 

        "Good morning." Her voice held the fear he could smell in her scent. The beast was unhappy with that scent. Why did she fear him? He assumed the beast was ignorant because it was very obvious to him why the woman would be afraid. 

        Without responding, he reined in the beast unable to completely stop the growl that rumbled from his chest, and raced for the front door. Wrenching open the piece of wood, a frigid blast of wind froze its way across his bare skin, though he barely felt it. His blood tended to run hot. Slamming that door behind him to keep the cold air from freezing 

her , he bounded away through the nearly knee deep snow, heading for the woods and leaving that cottage, and the woman who smelled like home, behind.

---

        Constance simply stood staring at the door that the naked giant of a man had just raced out of. She blinked several times as her brain attempted to make sense of what had just occurred.

        He had looked much better this morning—she would have almost sworn every bruise and cut had been magically healed but that would be nonsense. She had probably simply been too distracted by his lack of clothing, his nearness to her bedroom, and the sheer masculine heat the man had been exuded to noticing a little thing like scrapes. 

        And now he was gone. He had taken one look at her in all her early morning splendor and dashed out that door as if the hounds of hell themselves were on his heels. 

        Who the devil had he been?  And why had someone so large, so strong, so obviously powerful, seemed so afraid of her? 

        Deciding that was a mystery that would probably never see its resolution, Constance went to the door and locked it tight. Just because she had trusted him last night while he'd been brain addled and half dead, didn't mean she was going to trust the complete stranger this morning when he was obviously feeling well enough to go galivanting off into the remains of a blizzard. 

        Wrapping her robe tighter around her, Constance went to the window and pulled back the curtains, cursing under her breath at the sight of nearly three feet of snow surrounding home. The snow seemed to have stopped and the sun was shimmering brightly off the blanket nature had laid.  Constance's morning was going to be spent digging her way out to reach the barn, chicken coop, and outhouse. At least she'd had the forethought to bring plenty of wood to the house so she would not have to make too many trips through the cold simply to stay warm.

        Even as she dressed and prepared herself for her trek into the cold, Constance could not stop thinking about the man she had saved. What was his name? Why had he been out in the snow battered and bruised—and naked? Why had he run from her? And, most importantly, would she ever see him again?

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Three days had passed since Constance's nude, giant of a visitor had run away into the Montana snow. She had attempted to forget about him but, honestly, she had thought of little else. Constance simply could not, for the life of her, make any sense of what had happened. How had the man been alive? He should have frozen to death quickly out in the frigid winter weather but, instead, he had seemed hot but not with fever. He had felt as if he was his own furnace, producing heat more efficiently than a woodstove. And why had he been nude and torn to pieces? An animal attack would explain the wounds but not the lack of clothing. Then there was his reaction to her. She had seen fear, plain and simple, etched across his rugged features--shining in his dark eyes. 

Why would a man so large, and judging by the scars he'd been covered in, so accustomed to danger, be afraid of her? It certainly was a mystery--and Constance hated mysteries. She was someone who wanted to solve them. She liked to know the why of things. She needed all the information and to truly understand the world around her. The stranger had definitely presented one hell of a mystery and it was a mystery she simply couldn't see any way to solve.

Thankfully, today would not be spent simply attempting to keep herself busy at home with nothing but her thoughts for company. The weather had broken in the last couple of days and the snow had melted enough for her to put on her snow shoes and make the trek to town to open the schoolhouse. Constance wasn't sure if any children would show up but she could knock on several doors and at least invite those that lived along her route. 

Donning her thick wool coat over her gray plaid long sleeve dress, Constance then slipped on gloves, a warm red hat and matching scarf and left her cabin with a basket slid over her arm that contained her lunch as well as her revolver because a woman could never be too careful. 

Once outside, Constance walked the cleared path to the shed, slipped into her snowshoes and began the trek to town. It took nearly twice as long to reach the schoolhouse but when she did, Constance had several students in tow. Once she had gotten the fire roaring and brought heat into the tiny one room building, a few more had arrived, including Lily with a squirming burlap sack on her arms. 

"Miss Masters! Miss Masters! Look what I brought! I remembered!" A furry head popped out of the sack, giant ears flopping over a soft, black muzzle, before moving aside to reveal big brown eyes.

Constance felt her own smile grow at the adorable sight. "I love it, Lily." She reached out and let the pup sniff at her hand which led its squirming to increase and Lily to lose control of the sack as the puppy leaped out and into Constance's arms. 

"He likes you, Miss Masters!" Lily exclaimed, leading to a chorus of agreements from the other young students. Constance had always had a soft spot for animals but because of her mother having an allergy to them, she had never had one of her own. Now that she was in her own home maybe it was time to get herself a dog. It would help her to feel a little less alone. 

"Okay," Constance took the puppy who was busy attempting to kiss her face and placed it back in Lily's waiting arms while the girl was swarmed by her classmates. "Did anyone else remember their show and tell items?" 

A chorus of both elated assents and regretful denials filled the room. "Don't worry. If you forgot today, simply it bring it tomorrow. We can have show and tell month until everyone has had a turn. Now, everyone take their seats and Lily you can come to the front and tell us about your new puppy." 

"He's amazing!" Lily exclaimed as the puppy squirmed and wriggled in an attempt to gain freedom from her grasp. "His name is Rufus and he loves it when I give him bones after dinner!" 

---

At the end of the day, the students happily burst from the schoolhouse to begin their treks home. Lily and Constance were the last to leave the school and Lily locked up the door behind them. The girl had fashioned a lead from bit of rope and was letting Rufus bounce around in the snow drifts as they made their way down the path toward town. Constance had also given Lily her warm wool scarf because the girls threadbare coat had offered her very little protection against the cold air. 

"Thank you for sharing your lunch with me today, Miss Masters." Lily said as she held onto Rufus' leach with both hands, her braids swinging every time the pup tugged her in a new direction. "Sometimes my pa gets so busy he forgets to shop." 

Constance bit her tongue hard to keep her true thoughts to herself. Lily's pa didn't forget to buy food--the man simply chose to keep himself supplied in liquor and gambling instead. She took a moment to collect her thoughts and offered Lily the best comforting smile she could manage. "I will share with you anytime, Lily. Would you like me to walk you to your house? We can stop by the mercantile and I could pick you up a few things so your father won't have so much to worry about." 		

Lily laughed as Rufus faceplanted in a drift and came out shaking his head, those big ears flapping against his face. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Miss Masters. Pa doesn't like it when people help. He said he would buy us some food tonight." 

Constance hoped against hope that the man would keep that promise. Lily was such a bright, innocent young girl. She deserved so much more than the life she'd been given. Constance wanted so badly to help the girl but there wasn't much she could do. Their town marshall would not step in to a family matter that he saw as none of his business and any aid that Constance attempted to give to Lily would only serve to anger the girls father and possibly make things worse on her. The last thing Constance wanted was to have Lily's father start refusing to allow the girl to attend school. 

The two went their separate ways as the path split. Lily on the path that would lead toward her home at the edge of town and Constance on the path that would take her on her long walk toward her cottage in the woods.  

During winter months the school day ended at around one in the afternoon to ensure everyone had time to get home and have a bit of time before darkness fell. The sun was shimmering brightly off the crystalized snowflakes covering the trees and high drifts. Constance found herself humming a light tune as she trudged along. The snow was beginning to melt a bit under the sunlight and it made her going just a bit tougher than it had been that morning as her snowshoes sank a bit dipper into the snow. 

The day truly was a beautiful one despite the cold. The cold, however, had nothing to do with the chill that suddenly raced down Constance's spine. Bumps covered her flesh. She was being watched--she was sure of it. 

But by who.... or what?

Out in the wilderness it wasn't only other people with bad intentions you had to watch for. Wolves, bear, moose, elk, and even wolverine could be a threat. She was most worried about bear. While they should still be in hibernation, that slumber could sometimes be disturbed and with spring barely a month away, the beasts would be hungry and grumpy if they'd been awakened. 

Constance took her gun from her basket and actively scanned her surroundings as he hastened her pace. The air around her felt heavier. Something was wrong. 

Suddenly out of the woods and to the right, three tiny balls of fur came tumbling onto the path. They were growling at each other and swatting snow and clearly having fun in the winter wonderland around them. 

Baby grizzlies.  They were quite adorable and nearly enough to have Constance oohing and awwing as they wrestled and bounced around. But Constance knew where there were babies, mama was sure to be near. And mother bears were notoriously protective of their young. 

Her back stiffened when she heard a deep grunt from behind her. 

Constance's heart thundered and her hands shook as she turned slowly toward the sound. There stood a grizzly only about ten feet from her. It was raised on its back legs and easily eight feet tall. Constance would have screamed had she been a screaming woman. The bear fell back onto all fours, shaking its head and letting out a roar that she felt in her very bones. Constance had just found herself in the most dangerous place a person could ever find themselves; between a mother bear and her young. 

The gun nearly fell from her quaking hands. Constance gripped it tighter and aimed it at the mother bear--though she did not want to have to pull the trigger. This was simply a mother, hungry and desperate, awake far too early, and naturally wanting to protect her children. 

Contance did her best to ignore her own instincts to protect her life with a bullet, and simply tried to look small. She bent low, sinking into herself and dropping her gaze to her snow shoes, though she kept the bear just inside her peripheral vision. If she could simply make herself seem as little of a threat as possible to the cubs, the mother may decide not to attack and simply leave. 

The bear stomped its front feet on the snow and shook its head again. Constance attempted to shrink even further. And then the mother charged. 

The attack could have been a mock charge but Constance would never know because at the time the mother made a move toward her, something massive and black came leaping from the woods, hurtling through the air and slamming into the side of the bear, throwing her sideways and causing her to flip several times before she finally came to a stop. 

Constance stared in a mind clouding mixture of shock, fear, and awe at the massive black creature now standing between her and the bear who had been ready to attack her moments before. The wolf was easily twice as large as any wolf she had ever seen before. Long black fur glistened in the sunlight and she could see the power in its body as muscles bunched and coiled, ready to spring at any moment. 

The giant beast was facing the bear. It let out a growl that caused Constance's entire body to quake and her knees to turn to water beneath her as she fell unceremoniously onto her backside in the snow. The wolf spared a look back at her--eyes nearly as dark as the fur it was covered in and a scar running through its right eye and down its cheek. Lips pulled back to reveal massive, flesh ripping teeth as it turned back to the bear and snarled. 

What in the hemlock trees was going on? Lone wolves did not attack angry bears. They did not protect humans. Is that what this wolf was doing? Protecting her? The very idea seemed absurd. 

The bear wasted no time in adjusting to the new threat. As soon as she had regained her feet, she charged and the wolf met her halfway. Constance could hear the thud of bone and muscle as the two animals collided. They quickly became a tangle of fur, teeth and claws. Blood splashed on the snow. The sound of their mingling growls was deafening. 

Constance regained her feet and began to back away slowly. She realized the baby bears were gone--they had fled back into the woods and away from danger. Which was exactly what she should do. 

Just as she was about to though, she heard the bear let out a cry of pain and look forward to realize that the wolf was winning. It had the bear flipped and was about to tear out her neck. That would sign the bears death warrant. How was a wolf so strong?

Constance couldn't let the bear die. If she died, her babies would never survive without her. She reached in her basket and grabbed the empty pint jar that had contained her canned apples from lunch. With all her might she threw that jar directly at the wolf's head. It hit the creature in the cheek with a thud before falling and sinking into the blood-soaked snow. 

"Stop that! Don't kill her! She has children! Give her the option to leave!"

The wolf stiffened, his ears swiveling toward the sound of Constance's voice. Then, in a moment both miraculous and completely unexplainable, the giant beast released the bear and backed away, stopping with his tail only a couple feet from Constance herself. Constance got the impression that if the bear chose to continue the fight, the wolf was ensuring it would still be in a position to keep Constance safe. 

The bear got to her feet once again. Blood dripped from several deep injuries--though none of them appeared deadly. She sniffed the air and glanced toward where her cubs had been. Realizing that they were gone and safe, the mother bear simply let out a grunt and turned, lumbering back into the woods to find her children and nurse her wounds. 

Now it was just Constance and the wolf. 

The wolf was bleeding as well. She noticed he wasn't putting all his weight onto his left front leg and saw the deep lacerations running own it. She was sure there were more wounds on the beast, though the thick black fur kept them hidden. The wolf turned to face her, blood dripped a bit from it's muzzle, dotting the snow beneath it. 

The wolf's head was nearly level with her neck. That was absurd. Wolves simply did not grow that large. And yet, standing in front of her was proof. 

"Um.... thank you?" she offered as the wolf simply gazed at her, its head tilted as it studied her. Her grip on the gun tightened, though she did not aim it at the creature. It defied logic that this animal had just fought a bear to protect her. Had it simply been chasing off the competition for the food source it had decided that Constance was? 

"Are you okay?" she asked, feeling ten kinds a fool for speaking to this animal as if it could understand her. It continued to stare at her, those dark eyes seeming to look into her very soul. Crystalized breath swirled around its head as it panted lightly, still slightly winded from its fight with the bear. 

Constance took a step backward. "I'm going to go...to go home now." 

The wolf suddenly turned and went back to the scene of the battle. It sniffed around in the snow a moment before grabbing up her jar between its massive teeth and limping back toward her. Constance's hands were shaking and her brain was jumbled and confused as she opened the basket, held it out, and the wolf dropped the jar into it. 

"Uh...thanks?" she muttered. 

With a snort, the wolf nodded--nodded? Had she gone completely daft? And then he began limping his way past her and down the trail toward her cabin. 

Juniper berries. 

The creature seemed to be escorting her home. She saw the blood trail he was leaving behind and felt worry worming its way into her confused mind. The last twenty minutes made no sense. Yet another mystery. Constance felt that nagging in her brain. She had to solve it. She had to know where this wolf had come from. 

And so, with a sigh, she placed her gun back in the basket finally coming to the conclusion that she would not need it any more on this walk, and followed after her furry savior and trail guide. 

A/N: I’m back for real this time. No forcing myself to write necessary. I am writing up a storm for the first time in a long long time. I have so many story ideas and characters that are just dying to meet you!

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The deep forest. Damp earth. Soft moss. Old growth trees. Home. The scent of home filled his nostrils. His very soul filled with yearning. Only one thing had ever made him feel this intoxicating mixture of need and contentment since he'd awaken months ago with only blackness in his memories. 

Her. 

She was close. So very close. Her scent was wrapping around him, filling his senses. Searching his memory for what had brought him here, he tensed. The last thing he remembered was keeping his distance as he watched her walked along the path and then scenting the bears. He had seen those cubs and then their mother in that path. He had seen the bear threatening her, sensed the danger she was in, and had found himself unable to fight back the beast that lived inside him. The monster had ripped forth and his world had quickly gone black.

The woman? Was she okay? Had the bear gotten her? Or the monster... Terror filled him, replacing the peace he'd felt at awakening to her scent. Had the monster harmed her? He had tried his best to leave, to put distance between himself and the woman who smelled like home, but he had been unable to--he had kept finding himself pulled back. If in doing so he had allowed the monster to harm her....

 As he attempted to gain his bearings and come awake, he noticed that something was wrong. His body did not feel right--it didn't feel like his. Taking another breath, he realized he smelled blood but it wasn't hers. It was his and the bears. 

"If I tend to that wound, are you going to attempt to eat me?" 

That voice had him forgetting everything but her. He wanted to see her, was desperate to lay eyes on her softness and be certain she was unharmed--and then suddenly his vision became clear, and he could see her. 

He filled his eyes with the sight of her. That dark hair, slipping loose a bit from the updo she'd styled it in. Those brown eyes watching him with a mixture of concern and uncertainty, a line forming between her brows as she chewed her full bottom lip. "I don't want to be bitten." 

Bitten? 

The monster growled lightly. He growled lightly. He shook his head. The monster shook his head. He glanced down and realized he was covered in thick black fur. His tongue over his teeth revealed fangs made for tearing flesh. Realization dawned on him and had him falling down hard on the wooden floor beneath him as his legs gave out. 

He was the monster. The monster was him. For months it had seemed the monster was something separate. Something that simply took control. But now, for the first time, he was seeing through the eyes of the monster and realizing that they were his eyes. Every time before he'd been lost in a blackout while the monster ruled him. 

"Are you okay? Oh elm trees. Are you hurt worse than I thought you were?" 

He looked up and saw that all her uncertainty had been replaced by worry. Her hand was shaking a bit as she reached out and laid it upon his hand--paw. His entire body trembled at the contact. "Are you okay?" she asked. Then she snorted. "As if you could actually answer me. I think I may be losing my mind. Then again, after the afternoon I've just had, it would stand to reason you can understand me. Stranger things have certainly happened today."

He opened his mouth to speak but a series of whines and whimpers is all that came out. Right. He was the beast. Pain lanced through his head as something came back to him. Something from that darkness that seemed to be all he could remember until two months ago. 

A cage. Stone. Needles. Him. The monster. His bones changing and shifting. 

This monster that he thought was a separate thing from himself was not truly separate. He could change into the beast at will, he remembered now. The wolf made his base instincts harder to control and caused him to feel things more intensely but it could be controlled. He could control what he did as the wolf if he worked hard enough at it--Memories swirled just too far out of reach to grasp but close enough to let him know that at one point he'd been one with the beast. Just as comfortable covered in fur as in human skin. 

"I'm going to pour some of this astringent on your leg. It will burn but we have to try to keep this from getting infected. I'm certain a bear's claws and teeth are filthy." 

He should tell her to not waste her time. His wounds would heal quickly on their own. At times over the last months he'd been left with scars from his blackouts as the monster, none of those wounds had ever festered or become infected. But to tell her that he would have to become human. Memories of shifting forms told him it was a painful ugly process. A process that would no doubt terrify her. And terrifying her was something he would rather die than do. 

He felt the monster's emotions. The monster craved to protect her, guard her, keep her safe and cared for. The monster had already decided this woman was his, she was home, and he was going to make sure no harm ever came to her. 

He had been so concerned for days that the beast would harm this woman but he knew now that was not going to happen. The monster was not dangerous--at least not to her. Not to the woman who smelled like home and peace. 

Sharp pain filled his senses and he whimpered as he tried to pull his leg away from her grip as that foul smelling astringent hit his wounds. She made cooing sounds and put the bottle down, using her free hand to stroke his cheek. "It's okay. I'm sorry. I know it hurts." 

Hurt? What hurt? All he felt was euphoria at the feel of her hand on his face and he leaned into her shamelessly. She frowned even as she stroked him several times before removing her hand. He stayed still for her as she wrapped a white bandage around his wounded leg. 

"I wish I knew where you came from. Or why you seem to understand what I'm saying. Or why you protected me from a bear. Ugh!" She shoved herself to her feet and threw her hands in the air. "I suppose I'll never have any of those answers. I don't like that, you know. I am a woman who needs answers." 

She was angry as she began to clean up the medical supplies she'd used on his injury. He didn't like her anger. He wanted her happy, safe, and contented. To know that she was angry with him made his very soul ache. She was his peace and he only ever wanted to be that for her--especially now that he knew the monster was no danger to her. 

And so, desperate to give her the answers that she seemed to so desperately wanted, he got back to his feet. Digging into his limited memories, he tried to recall how to make the change. He called on the monster to go back to sleep within his blood and felt pain overtake him as his bones began to break. 

A/N: Probably shorter chapters with this story but that will mean they’ll come more quickly! Hope you enjoyed! Poor Constance is about to be thrown for one heck of a loop!

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Frustration was not a pleasant emotion but at the moment it was nearly all Constance could feel. She had so many questions that she needed answers to and had absolutely no way of attaining those answers. The events of this afternoon made no sense. The fact that a massive wolf, far too large to be real, was currently in her home after saving her from a bear attack made no sense. The fact that wolf also seemed to understand her when she spoke made no sense. 

Constance was mumbling about the aggravation of it all as she put her medical kit into the cabinet. A thought crossed her mind. She had been thinking just earlier today about getting a pet dog. Was the wolf there to fill that position? She nearly laughed out loud at her own folly. She could only imagine the reaction her students would have if she showed up with her guardian wolf as a show and tell exhibit. 

A movement in her peripheral vision had Constance turning her attention back to where she'd left the wolf, only to realize he had gotten to his feet, those dark eyes locked on her intently. She opened her mouth to speak, only to stand there silently with it hanging open as the wolf began to change. 

Thick black fur was sucked back into skin. The sounds of bones breaking and shifting echoed in the quiet cottage as its legs snapped backward and elongated. The creature become bipedal, shoulders widened, the muzzle sank into his face. The horrifying alterations had only taken seconds and yet seemed to have taken hours as she'd noticed every detail of the change. 

Now, standing in her home slick with sweat and panting with the exertion of what he'd just gone through was the large naked man from several nights ago...and he was just as large and just as naked as she remmebered. A man who had just been a wolf. Constance blinked several times. He had just been a wolf, hadn't he? Shredded bandages lay on the floor and the mans arm were covered in the wounds Constance had just treated on the wolf. Yes. This man had just been a wolf moments before. 

"What the hemlock....." 

Her mind swam. Her legs weakened a bit and the man strode forward a step as if to catch her. Constance held up a hand and he stopped instantly, though she noticed his hands clench and unclench several times as if he were fighting an internal battle.

Well, he could take his internal battle and shove it up his unclothed backside. She was facing an internal battle all her own. Men did not turn into wolves. Wolves did not turn into men. And yet it had just happened before her very eyes. 

"You're afraid." 

His deep, gruff voice broke through her jumbled thoughts. It was a nice voice. A voice that caused a feminine shiver to run through her blood. She was avoiding looking at the man, keeping her gaze focused on the far wall instead and the clock that ticked steadily there. 

"I'm not." she replied honestly. She wasn't afraid. She was overwhelmed and confused, but not afraid. To be afraid one had to have doubts about their safety. Fear meant a knowledge that they may not be safe. Constance knew this man creature was no threat to her. He could have killed her that first night he'd spent in her home, he could have allowed her to die to a bear on the road that very afternoon and yet he hadn't. No, he was no danger to her. 

She wanted to ask him who he was. Where he had come from. What he was. And yet, none of those words seemed to make it from her mind to her mouth. Instead,  she held up her pointer finger and swallowed hard. "I'm going to need a minute," she found herself mumbling before stepping to her bedroom door, opening it, and locking herself inside. 

Constance stayed in her room a long while. The shadows lengthened outside. It would soon be pitch dark. Already it was getting harder to see the details of her bedroom. Was the man still there?  Had he fled again like he did at their first meeting? She didn't know. To know that, Constance would have to open her door and step out of her room and she wasn't certain she was ready to do that. 

First, she had to completely gather her thoughts. 

What she had thought to be facts of life were wrong. Men could turn into wolves. Wolves could turn into men. Didn't that make him a monster? A storybook villain of sorts? But he didn't seem a villain. He'd been afraid of her when they first met. He hadn't in any way attempted to harm her. And, he had saved her life--even listened to her when she had demanded he spare the bear's life. 

Constance needed answers. She pushed herself to her feet and smoothed out her skirt. She would find none hiding in her room any longer. If the man was still here she had plenty of questions for him and if he wasn't...  oh juniper berries, she hoped he was still here. Constance did not do well with unanswered questions. 

Striding to the door, she grabbed the handle in a shaking hand and pulled it open, only to let out a gasp and jump back when she found the man standing in front of her with his arm raised as if he'd been preparing to knock. A quick glance revealed he had wrapped the quilt from her couch around his hips and tied it in place to hide his nakedness. There was still far too much of his muscled body visible to be appropriate but she appreciated the effort. 

The man took a quick step back but said nothing. Constance took a steadying breath and finally met his dark gaze. There it was again, written across his features so very plainly. Fear. Uncertainty. 

A quick glance around revealed he had stoked up the fire in the fireplace and lit several oil lamps casting a warm glow around the cottage and warming it quite nicely. It seemed there was a fire in the cookstove as well. The cottage felt almost too warm. 

"Were you cold?" she asked, remembering how very warm his body had felt before. 

He shook his head. "I know you get cold. I don't want you cold." 

Constance could remind him that the reason she had been cold the last time they'd met, with him in human form at least, was because he'd had her pinned against a wall outside in the middle of the night during a blizzard. Memories of how hot his touch had been, how completely his large frame had surrounded her came roaring to life in her mind and she shook her head slightly to clear them. 

Instead of reminding him of that night as well, Constance decided to ask one of the questions that had been bothering her. "Don't you feel the cold?" 

He stood so still, almost at attention like a soldier awaiting orders. Those dark eyes still locked on her and that uncertainty still tugging at his rugged features. Constance wrapped her arms around herself and waited for him to answer. 

"No. I don't feel the cold." Then he frowned as if he were having to think hard about his answer. "I do. I feel the cold." 

It was Constance's turn to frown. "You do or you don't?"

"I do. But it doesn't bother me. And I don't feel it the way you seem to. It takes a long time for me to become cold." 

Constance could ask why but she figured she already knew. The answer probably had something to do with the man having a giant hairy wolf living inside of him. "I suppose I owe you thanks for earlier," she admitted. "So, thank you." 

The slight shifting of his feet was barely perceptible and his gaze dropped to the floor. "You owe me nothing." 

"I do though," Constance insisted. "You very likely saved my life out there. That bear was probably going to kill me." 

It took a moment for her to realize that the animalistic growl rumbling through the air came from him. His gaze was still on the floor but his fists were clenched and his shoulders tense. "No. We would never have let that bear harm you." 

"We?" 

His gaze rose back to meet hers. "The monster and I." 

Constance found herself unable to move her gaze from his. Those dark eyes flashed with something animalistic and raw. They were possessive as they seemed to burn right into her soul. She found herself trembling under the intensity and heat filled her core. 

"Are you and the monster two different beings?" she somehow managed to whisper. 

Again his brow furrowed as if he was searching hard for an answer. His jaw worked several times as if he were debating what to say. "Yes and no." 

"That clears it up," she mumbled. 

He opened his mouth as if to speak again but was stopped when her stomach rumbled loudly. "You need food." 

"What I need is answers," Constance mumbled under her breath as she moved around him and made her way into the kitchen. She grabbed a sack of potatoes and a knife and began to peel them, tossing the skins into a bucket. 

Constance was all too aware of the man's presence as he moved into the kitchen, grabbed a pan and placed it on the cookstove to heat. She was certain he sniffed the air a moment before making his way to a cabinet, pulling out the lard and placing a spoon full in the heating pan. Constance had been alone here the entire time she had lived in her cottage; to suddenly have another person, especially such a large, strong, practically nude, wolf man, was a bit overwhelming. And to have him helping with domestic tasks was certainly not something Constance had been expecting. 

She opened her mouth to speak but his deep voice filled the air before she could. "I want to give you what you want. Answers." He stood off to the side of the stove, once again taking a position as if he were a soldier on duty. "But I don't have many of them. I do not know exactly what I am or where I came from." His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes. That scar tugging across his brow. "I remember cages. Stone. Cold. But nothing else until I woke up a could month ago bloody and broken on a riverbank." 

"You're saying you lost your memory?" Constance asked skeptically as she began to chop the potatoes to fry. 

"I would never lie to you. I have no real memory of anything until a couple months ago. Just flashes of things I do not understand."

Constance got to her feet with a plate full of chopped potatoes and tossed them in the pan. She thought on what he had said so far. He was a wolf and a man. The monster and him were the same and yet different. He had no real memory of his life until only a couple months ago and what little bit he could remember sounded much like imprisonment. Did that mean he was dangerous? Had he been kept locked away for safety and somehow escaped? But there was more he had said. More he had done. He had protected her. He had sworn that neither he nor the monster would harm her. And he had vowed to never lie to her. 

"Why?" she questioned.

Those dark eyes opened and found her gaze. "Why what?"

Constance wished she had some way to busy her trembling hands. This man's eyes held an intensity when they gazed at her that made her heart race and her mouth go dry. "Why did you say you won't allow harm to come to me? Why did you say you'd never lie? You don't know me." 

The man took several steps toward her, closing whatever distance had been between them. He stood less than a foot away. His massive frame seeming to engulf her. The heat he exuded warming her skin.

"Your scent," he practically whispered. 

Constance blinked. "Scent?"

He leaned down. His unruly dark hair brushed against her face as he put his nose to the side of her neck and drew a deep breath. "You smell like old growth forest." His breath teased her skin causing her knees to weaken. Without thought Constance laid her hands on his shirtless chest to steady herself. He nuzzled deeper into her neck. "You smell like moss. Pine." 

Constance's entire body trembled. There was a heat in her that didn't have a thing to do with the fires burning around them. She flexed her hands against the dusting of dark hair on his chest, relishing the feel of him. 

Somehow, despite the dryness of her mouth and the pounding in her chest, she found her voice. "I smell like a wet forest?"

He grunted and Constance was certain his lips grazed her ear. "Home. You smell like home." 

Constance couldn't explain the feelings stirring within her. The longing to surrender herself into his arms. To lay her head against his heart and listen to the beat. To let that mouth of his brush against more than just the tender flesh of her ear...

It made no sense and yet it was suddenly all she wanted. His lips grazed her sensitive neck and Constance simply couldn't find it within herself to pull away. She felt one of his hands on her hip and the other danced across her cheek as he lifted his head and his dark eyes found hers. 

His gaze was hungry but underneath she could still make out fear and uncertainty. Constance knew her own expression must match. His calloused fingers gently tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and suddenly Constance knew she had to kiss him. 

Above all answers, or reason, or logic was the all-consuming need to allow this man with a monster living in his blood, to devour her. His face lowered, their breath mingled. Constance slid her eyes closed in anticipation. 

A banging on the door and an angry voice pulled them both from the spell they had fallen under. 

"Constance Masters, open this goddamn door right now! I have some words for you!"

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

He had been lost in her. Her scent. Her softness. The taste of her delicate neck. And as he'd gazed into her hungry brown eyes, even the monster in him had quieted, wanting only to savor her nearness. Taste her passion. Show her just how devoted he could be to her every need. 

The banging at the door and the angry male voice that followed had him turning from her and facing that door, ready to take out whatever threat presented itself. He felt the monster swimming in his blood, eager to be let loose. His skin burned and his bones ached as he fought to keep them from breaking and shifting. Always before the monster had simply taken over when any threat presented itself. He had lost himself to it and blacked out. Now that he knew the monster and himself were one and the same, he felt more in control. 

"I know you're in there, you nosy, uppity bitch! Open the door before I break it down."

A low growl rumbled from his chest as his fists clenched. No one would threaten this woman and live to speak about it. He only managed one step toward the door and the man waiting to die behind it before the woman, Constance, the stranger had called her, placed a hand on his arm and he stilled instantly. 

"What are you doing?" she questioned quietly. 

"Ending the threat." 

Constance's brown eyes widened as she slowly removed her hand from his arm. "Do you mean to kill him?"

The banging and yelling continued from the other side of the door. "Yes." His reply was simple and honest. He could and would kill any threat to her. 

"Just a moment!" Constance shouted at the stranger, which only seemed to increase his rage as his yells and threats became louder. More insults were hurled. 

A growl rumbled from deep within his chest. He would enjoy killing that bastard.

"Stop," Constance hissed, stepping in front of him. "I know who this is. He's an angry drunk but I can handle him." 

"

I will handle him.“

He felt Constance tremble as she swallowed hard and shook her head. "He's the father of one of my students. I'm a teacher. If a naked giant of a man whose name I don't even know answers that door, the community will pull what little funding I get and close the school... And probably run me right out of here." 

"I won't let him harm you." 

"Please," Her expression was stern. "Go in my bedroom, close the door and wait. I don't want him to see you." 

That wasn't going to happen. He would not leave her alone with that man. If she didn't want anyone to know a man was in her home, fine. He didn't have to be a man to protect her. Closing his eyes, he let the wolf consume him. Bones snapped and twisted. Fur covered him as he fell to all fours with a thud. His senses sharpened and teeth elongated. 

When the change was complete he was surprised to still feel in control of his actions. Anytime the wolf had taken over before he had blacked out completely. Not this time. The only change was his base instincts were more intense. The rage wasn't greater, but it was sharper.

"Crabgrass, I'd nearly forgotten you could do that." He glanced up at Constance and saw the frown on her face. "I'm not sure how I'll explain a giant wolf either." 

"That's it! I'm breaking the fucking door!" The door jarred on its hinges as the stranger's body rammed into it. 

The growl that ripped from his throat shook the windows in their frames. The pounding and yelling fell silent. "What the hell was that?" the stranger demanded, sounding suddenly meeker. The scent of fear, thick and cloying, filled the air and the monster smiled. It liked fear. 

"Behave," Constance warned before stepping around him, her slender fingers dancing in his fur a moment as she passed him. 

Constance smoothed out her skirt and opened the door, folding her hands in front of her. "What can I do for you, Mr. Reeves?"

The man, Mr. Reeves, was tall and thin in his stained and threadbare clothes. The scent of alcohol leaked from his skin. He had a long beard and patchy facial hair. Pock scars littered his face and greasy blond hair stuck out under his sweat-stained hat. 

Icy blue eyes narrowed at Constance. Mr. Reeves took a step forward but a quick growl stopped him. Those blue eyes widened as they saw the monster. "What the hell is that?"

"I would prefer you keep the profanity to a minimum, Mr. Reeves. And that is my pet. A woman can't be too careful when she lives alone. I don't believe he wants you coming inside and, honestly, neither do I." Constance stepped to the left and held her hand out to the side. He stepped forward, eager to protect her, and took his place at her side. His teeth bared at Mr. Reeves, letting him understand the threat. While his leg was not yet healed, he refused to limp or show weakness. Whether it was past experience he could not remember or simply instinct, something told him that showing weakness was a bad idea. Constance's hand rested in the fur of his back, helping him stay grounded. He would obey her command to behave as long as Mr. Reeves did not make one more move toward her. If the angry man pushed or crossed the line, he'd find himself missing a throat. 

Constance let out a little cough to draw Mr. Reeve's wide eyes back to her. "Now, if you don't mind, it's very late, the cold air is getting in, and I was in the middle of cooking supper. What words were you wanting to have with me?" 

"Well...I..." 

"I honestly, do not have times for your stammering. You came here unannounced, beating on my door, yelling obscenities, and calling me names..." 

A low growl rumbled from his chest and Constance's fingers stroked his fur as if in an effort to calm him. It worked. Slightly. He was proud of her and the fire that seemed to live within her. It excited the monster. 

Constance sighed. "Now what exactly is it you came here to say?"

"Well, you had no right to speak to my daughter the way you did today," he stated, pulling off his hat and clutching it in his hands. 

"And how was that, Mr. Reeves? My conversations with Lily were quite pleasant today, as I recall. She even brought her pup for show and tell." 

"You offered to buy food for her and gave her a scarf. You made me out to be a bad father." 

"I don't have to 

make you out to be anything, Mr. Reeves.“

His blue eyes narrowed angrily, his fist clenched and he took a forward step as his mouth pulled into a sneer. "You bitch..." 

Line crossed. 

Muscles that had been coiled and ready sprung to life. He leapt through the air and landed on Mr. Reeves, sending the skinny man crashing into the snow outside. The monster wanted to taste blood. Closing his teeth around the screaming man's throat, he prepared to tear away the flesh. 

A sharp tug on his tail had him releasing his hold and looking back. Constance yanked his tail once again. "Stop it! Do not kill him!" 

His gaze met her brown eyes as he remained standing atop Mr. Reeves. The man was screaming and crying and the smell of urine was thick in the air. 

"I mean it. Do not kill him. He has learned his lesson and he's going to leave." 

"Yes. Yes. I'll leave...." Mr. Reeves whimpered. 

Another sharp yank on his tail had him moving off the urine soaked coward and stepping back toward Constance. She was pulling his tail. Actually pulling his tail. As if she had no fear of him or the monster. The woman had a warrior's heart and he would gladly do anything for her without hesitation. 

"I suggest you be on your way now, Mr. Reeves and this encounter will be forgotten. I will lay the blame on your drunkenness and we won't let this have any impact on Lily or my ability to continue teaching her." 

Mr. Reeves got to his feet, his entire body quaking. "Of course... Forgive me. I.. I never should have spoken to you that way..." 

Mr. Reeves staggered off into the darkness down the path that led toward town. 

Constance motioned toward the house. "Are you coming back in or not? It's cold out here." 

Someone needed to make sure that Mr. Reeves truly went home. If he turned and attempted to come back, the monster would gladly kill him, drag him into the woods, and ensure that no one would ever find the body.

With a shake of his head, he trotted off into the darkness, disappearing in the shadows. 

---

Constance was left staring off into the darkness long after she was alone. It was the biting cold that had her stepping back into the house and closing the door behind her. She locked it before picking up the quilt he had used to cover himself up off the floor and tossing it over the sofa. She made her way to the stove and stirred the potatoes which had blackened just a bit on one side. 

Her hands were shaking as she tried to wrap her head around what had just happened. One, she had nearly kissed a man she didn't truly know. A man who could turn into a wolf--who had turned into a wolf right in front of her, that was number two. She had watched a man turn himself into a wolf. And somehow, she hadn't been afraid of him. Why was she so drawn to that man in both human and beast form? The third event of the evening was a drunken Carlton Reeves showing up at her door with his screaming and cursing and threats. When she had offered to help Lily she hadn't been thinking of the repercussions that might have with the girl's father. That had obviously been a mistake. She hoped Lily was okay and her worthless father had not and would not take that anger out on her. Fourth, was her man/wolf attacking Carlton and nearly ripping his head from his body in an effort to protect her. First he'd faced an angry bear and then an angry man. Truth be told she had riled Carlton Reeves more than necessary--probably a byproduct of having a giant wolf standing beside her.

And now she was alone. Her wolf shifting stranger had gone into the night--probably to trail Carlton back to town and hopefully not to kill him. 

Constance was quite done for the day. She had simply had enough. Grabbing the tin plate of biscuits she'd made fresh that morning, Constance laid them on the cookstove to warm as she finished cooking up the potatoes. 

She wasn't certain why but she made two plates of potatoes and biscuits and covered one with a checkered cloth before laying it on the table. After everything the strange man had done for her, feeding him a meal if he returned was the least she could do. She ate her own food, turned off the lamps that he had lit around the cabin and made her way toward her room. She paused as she glanced at the front door. If he came back, she didn't want him to have to spend the night out in the cold, even if he claimed he could barely feel it. 

Constance unlocked the front door, grabbed her gun from the kitchen table and went into her own room, placing the chair from her vanity beneath the handle. If someone with bad intentions arrived, they'd be able to enter the cottage but she would hear them if they attempted to open her door and Constance would be able to defend herself. 

She changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed, praying that tomorrow would a day that she could easily wrap her mind around because today had been far too much.

A/N: I hope y’all are enjoying the story so far! Sorry about the massive amount of typos in the last chapter. Hopefully there aren’t as many in this one. I’ve been writing on notepad because my microsoft word expired and I’m a broke heifer. I’ll try to read through and edit them a bit better before posting. Love y’all!

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Constance was up with the dawn. She hadn't slept well as worries over what today would bring had plagued her. Would Lily be at school? Would the girl be safe and unharmed? Would Carlton Reeves have made rounds in town carrying on about Constance's dangerous pet who had attacked him. She didn't think anyone would take his side but one never knew for certain. 

She was most worried about Lily's safety. She had never seen bruises or marks on the girl before but her father had indeed seemed violent when he'd shown up at Constance's door last night. Would he be violent with the poor girl? She knew no help would come from the town marshal even if the man did get violent with his daughter. Such things were seen as family matters and not something that lazy man would see fit to involve himself in. 

And of course, she had no idea what had happened when her wolf/man stranger had followed after Mr. Reeves. Perhaps Lily's father was dead and the girl was going to find herself orphaned and alone. 

Shaking her head to clear her jumbled, morbid thoughts, Constance slid into her clothes for the day, fixed her hair up on her head and moved the chair from in front of her door. She hadn't heard him come back last night but that didn't mean the strange man wasn't out in the cottage. He could have come during those few moments she was sleeping or he could have snuck in silently--Constance had a feeling he knew how to remain undetected if he wished. 

She wasn't certain why she felt such a nervous trembling in her gut as she reached to open the door. Did she want him to have returned? Did she want that giant of a man to be laying on her sofa? Or that giant black wolf to be curled up near her room keeping watch. 

Yes. Yes she did. It was past reason and logic. It was something purely animalistic and primal within her that wanted him near. Constance had a bit too much on her mind lately--the mystery of her feelings toward this dangerous half creature man she seemed to need near her was not something she had the time or the ability to make sense of just now. She was simply going to go along with it. 

Constance opened the door and could not stop the smile that curved her lips. There was a fire in the fireplace and the woodstove had also been lit. Like a moth to a flame her gaze was drawn to him. He was standing near the kitchen, once again motionless like a soldier awaiting orders. He had the quilt wrapped around his middle and his dark eyes ran up and down her body before his lips mimicked her and the smallest of smiles pulled them up at the corners. 

"You came back," Constance observed as she stepped into the slightly too warm main room. 

"Yes. Is that... is that okay?"

She nodded as she stepped into the kitchen, closing most of the distance between them. "I would have worried if you hadn't." She looked him up and down, checking for any visible injuries. The wounds the bear had placed on his arm the day before were healed, nothing left of them but barely visible pale scars. 

He followed her gaze. "I heal quickly" 

Constance longed to reach out and touch him but instead she turned away and grabbed a pot from the counter, filling it with water from the bucket she kept full and placing it on the stove to boil. She got into the cabinet and pulled out the oat as well as a jar of canned peaches. 

"Where did you go last night?" she questioned. 

The answer left his mouth with a growl. "I followed Mr. Reeves to his home." 

"Carlton. You can call him Carlton." Constance met his dark gaze. "Is he still alive?" 

"I did not kill him if that's what you're asking. I should have. And I will, without hesitation, if he ever looks in your direction with anger and threats again. No amount of tail pulling will stop me." 

"I was only attempting to stop you from committing cold blooded murder at my doorstep," Constance replied, turning away with color staining her cheeks. Yes, she had pulled his tail. It had seemed the best way to get his attention in that moment. And it had worked so she'd been correct. 

"More memories have been coming back. Bits and pieces I'm struggling to connect. One thing from my past is clear. Killing has never bothered me." 

Constance froze in her tracks. She'd been preparing to pour oats into the now boiling water but his words had stopped her cold. 

 She was aware of him taking a step toward her before he spoke. "You're afraid." 

"I'm not afraid of you," she countered honestly. "I know you would never harm me. If you wanted to you've had countless opportunities to do so." 

"I smell fear." he insisted. 

Constance sighed and poured the oats into the water. "I suppose I fear what you may do to others. A very large part of me wants you here with me but not if it puts others in danger..." 

Constance kept her back to him but felt his eyes on her. He stepped closer. His large, calloused hand fell gently on her shoulder before sliding down her arm and taking her hand gently. "The only ones in danger from me are those that attempt to harm you or cause you pain." 

Constance felt her pulse quicken as his thumb brushed the tender flesh of her wrist. "I don't understand this... I don't understand you and I or why or what this is... I'm a woman that values answers and knowledge and knowing exactly what is going on." 

"I want you happy. I want to give you answers. I don't remember much yet but more is coming each day. The memories are not pleasant ones. I was a killer. And a prisoner. A weapon for someone... I can almost make out his face in my mind. No matter what I was before now I am yours." 

Constance slowly pulled her hand away from his and grabbed a wooden spoon to stir the cooking oats. "Mine?" She tried her best to ignore the hot little tremor that raced down her body as his words echoed in her ear. Constance was an old maid and had resigned herself to that life years ago. She'd never been a woman who felt any real desire for a man--until this man had shown up at her doorstep and awoken something within her. 

"Yes. But if me being here makes you unhappy... I would leave." 

Constance kept her gaze on the oats in the pot. Did she want him to leave? It would make life simpler, for certain, but was simple what she wanted this time?

"No. No, I don't want you to leave." 

She pulled the cooked oats off the heat and grabbed two bowls. "But you need a name," she glanced in his direction. "And clothes. You definitely need clothes."

"A name?" He moved toward the table and pulled out her chair. Constance sat and watched as he grabbed the jar of peaches and brought them to the table before taking a seat as well. She realized the plate she had laid out for him the night before was gone. Constance felt her heart lighten upon realizing he had eaten. After years alone, it felt good to care for someone. 

"Yes." Constance scooped some peaches into her oats before doing the same for him. "Do you have one you can remember?"

That familiar frown with furrowed brow expression told Constance he was thinking hard. "Monster." His eyes closed. "And a number... I was given a number..." 

Constance liked this less and less. Somone had kept this man a prisoner, forced him to kill for them, and hadn't even had the decency to give him a name. "What about before the cage? You must have had a family." 

He opened his dark eyes and took a bite of his breakfast. "I want to please you but I don't have answers yet. I'm trying...." 

Constance reached across the table and laid her hand over his. "Don't. You don't owe me answers. Whatever you can remember is good enough." 

His eyes were on their hands. Such a contrast between hard and soft. Tanned and pale. "I want to make you happy," he insisted. 

Constance pointed at his bowl. "Then eat your food." 

They finished their meal in silence. Constance packed a lunch in her basket and began donning her coat and gloves. "I suppose you'll have to stay here while I'm at work..." 

"No. You'll not make that walk alone." 

Constance both bristled and trembled in the same instant. Bristling because she was a grown woman who had been keeping herself safe for years. And trembling because his deep voice sounded so good as he became protective. Constance felt her cheeks redden once again. What was it about this man that had her feeling so tied in knots.. so very feminine. 

"I have made the walk alone many times and been just fine," she reminded him. 

"That was before me. I am here now. You won't walk alone. I won't risk anything happening to you." 

"A naked man can't walk me to the schoolhouse," she reminded him, cursing her body for loving the possessive growl in his voice. "I will pick up some fabric to make you an outfit so you can go on into town." 

He tilted his head to the side and frowned. "I don't think I've ever had clothes." 

Constance frowned. "What?  Never?"

"Not in the cages." He got a faraway look in his dark eyes. "Never in the cages. And the monster doesn't need them. The monster is all that man wanted. All he needed." 

Constance would have cursed aloud if she was a person who used profanity. If whoever had kept him prisoner were standing before her, she would very likely simply shoot him. That wasn't an option. Instead she stepped to him and took one of his hands in both her gloved ones. "You're not a monster. You're a man worthy of the dignity of both clothes and a name."

Those dark eyes gazed so deep into hers--seeming to see down into the depths of her soul. His hand closed around one of hers Constance found herself pulled forward. Her body was flush with his as he released her hand and wrapped his arms tight around her, burying his face in her neck. 

"Thank you," his gruff voice came from near her ear. Constance gave in to the temptation and relaxed into his touch, laying her head over his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.  She felt a moment of complete peace--complete contentment. This man had said he had been drawn here to her because her scent was that of home--the feel of his arms around her and the steady beat of his heart against her ear gave her that same feeling. Home.

Slowly, loathfully, Constance pulled away from him. "I have to be going. I will be just fine. I have my gun in my basket." 

He let out a growl and took a step back. "You'll have more than just a gun." 

Before Constance could argue, his body began to change and in seconds she found herself once again with a giant wolf in her home. She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But try not to scare anyone. If Carlton has told anyone about the wolf that attacked him last night they may not be happy to see you around town." 

He merely grunted and walked over to the door. Constance sighed, pulled her hat on over her head, wrapped a scarf around her neck and face and placed her basket over her arm.

"While we're in town today, I want you to think of names you might like. We need to find one for you if you're going to stay around here and want to be seen with me in town as more than just a wolf." He looked up at her and nodded. 

Constance opened the door and started toward town with her bodyguard close at her side. 

---

It didn't long after she had the fire burning in the woodstove at the schoolhouse before her students began arriving. Constance felt the tension building greater within her when Lily didn't seem to be among them. 

The children were both excited about and fearful of the giant black wolf curled up on the floor beside the stove. She turned down their many inquiries of whether or not they could pet her 'dog'. Constance wasn't certain he'd be comfortable with that and she wasn't going to force him into anything he did not consent to. Something told Constance, based on what few memories he had, that he had been forced into a lot of things in his life. 

Just as Constance was beginning the lessons for the day, the schoolhouse door opened and Lily came bursting in, her dark pigtails swinging. "Sorry I'm late, Mrs. Masters! My pa was feeling bad this morning so I had extra chores." 

A low growl sounded from beside the stove. Constance wondered momentarily how he seemed to know that Lily was Carlton's daughter, then it dawned on her that he could probably pick up the scent. 	

Lily's blue eyes widened as they fell on him ."Mrs. Masters! Is that your pet? Did you bring him for show and tell?"

Constance was barely focused on the girls words as she nodded in agreeance. She was too busy looking her up and down for any signs of injuries as the girl shed her winter coat. Constance noticed she was missing the scarf that she had leant the child yesterday. Constance wouldn't be surprised if she learned that her father had burned the offered bit of warmth or perhaps even tossed it in the river. Stupid man. 

"Can I pet him?" Lily asked, making her way toward the target of her affection without waiting for an answer. 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Constance countered, grabbing the girls shoulder gently to stop him. "He's for protection. I'm not certain how friendly he'll be if you all start crowding him." 

Lily nodded her understanding. "He looks like he'd probably be pretty good at his job!" 

Several children voiced agreement. 

"Take your seat now, Lily, so we can start todays class." 

Lily bounced to her seat and flopped down. "Show and tell first, Mrs. Masters! Tell us about your dog!" 

As if on cue, he stood slowly, stretching out his legs before coming to stand beside her at the front of the class. "What's his name?" A student named Phillip asked. 

"He looks like a monster from a storybook!" a little girl named Alice admitted, shying back in her seat. "He's got scars and everything." 

Constance tsked. "We can't judge all creatures by their appearance alone," she reminded her class. "His name is Monster." She buried her hand in the fur on his head caressed gently. "And he is mine. Just yesterday he saved me from a bear attack." 

Telling the story of the harrowing attack kept the class busy for a long while. She hoped he wasn't upset by her naming him Monster when in his wolf form. Honestly, she'd been unable to come up with anything else on the spot. Fido hadn't seemed appropriate. Judging by the way he kept nuzzling against her and begging for her touch, she didn't think he'd minded the name overly much. 

"Can we pet him, please!" Lily asked. "Daddy won't let me bring Rufus in the house and he's saying now he doesn't want me petting on him and making a house dog of him. He wants to use him for hunting. I want to pet your dog and then I can let daddy know dogs came have two jobs. If Monster can be a school dog and a protector, then Rufus can be a house dog and a hunter!" 

Constance felt her heart break for the girl. Leave it to her bastard of a father to give her something that brought her such joy and then snatch it away in nearly the same instant. Constance glanced down at Monster and he nodded before going around the room, making stops at the desk and allowing each child who wanted to, ooh and aah over him. 

Finally, Constance called him back to her and asked him nicely to go lay back down, which he did. She nearly laughed. She had a big strong protector, that was true, but she also had pet eager to do anything she asked. 

Her heart felt lighter as she began her lessons for the day. Carlton clearly hadn't said anything around town about the night before--at least not yet. And now all the children had met her new pet and knew he wasn't dangerous. Lily seemed as okay as she ever was. Still somehow a bright light despite the dark cloud that was her father. 

Constance would finish the day teaching, stop by the fabric shop to get some material to make an outfit for Monster's human form, and then go home and hear what kind of names he'd thought up for himself. She hoped he'd come up with something. He most certainly deserved a name.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Walking down the streets of town with her monster at her side was a new experience for Constance. People stared, they whispered, they pointed. Some of the more dramatic types went so far as to let out little yelps or screams and move far away. He remained at her side and Constance kept her hand in the fur at the nape of his neck in an effort to assure him that she wanted his presence near her. 

Constance's only errand today was to see about getting fabric to make him some clothes over the weekend. Today was friday so she would have plenty of time to make them before Monday rolled around and he went to town as a man--if he was comfortable with that. Constance wouldn't force him and if he was more comfortable as a wolf then she would simply take her gaurd dog with her every day. 

Entering the tiny clothing store, Constance went over to the fabric section. She was thinking perhaps black cotton for the pants and black wool for the top. He could pick out his own accessories when he was ready. 

"Miss Masters, I do not want animals in my store!" Mrs. Horntree scolded, breezing her way across the store with a measuring stick in one hand and a measuring tape tied around her thin upper arm. "I do not want the mess." 

Constance glanced behind her and realized Monster had followed her in. His massive frame was threatening to knock over display racks and mannequins with every move he made. 

"I apologize, Mrs. Horntree." Constance laid her hand on his cheek, feeling her heart smile as he leaned into  her touch. "I didn't realize he'd followed me inside." 

Constance pointed to the door. "Monster, can you go back outside and wait on me, please?"

Those dark eyes narrowed. Constance found it absurd that anyone could look into those expressive eyes and not see the man within. The man who didn't appreciate her request judging by the look he was giving her. Too bad. He needed to work on being overly protective. 

Constance opened her mouth to assure him that no harm would come to her among the fabric swatches and stick pins but Mrs. Horntree spoke before she could. "I doubt the beast speaks English, Miss Masters. Honestly, as the only educator we have in this town you shouldn't do such foolish things. It could cause people do doubt your intelligence and your ability to teach their children." 

Constance bristled but a low growl grabbed her attention as Monster took a step toward the trembling, wide-eyed seamstress. Constance tugged his ear gently, bringing his gaze back to her. "Outside. Now." 

With a snort and one more threatening glance tossed in Mrs. Horntree's direction, Monster left the store, pushing the door open with his nose. Out the window, Constance could see that he was standing as a sentry just outside the door, keeping a close eye on anyone that passed by. 

"Well...." Mrs. Horntree pushed her glasses up her narrow nose with a trembling hand. "Now that he's been dealt with, what can I do for you today?"

---

The walk home was long but peaceful. The sun glistened on the snow hanging from the oaks and pines. Birds sang and flitted about. There wasn't a threat to be found as far as Constance could tell--and yet still Monster walked just a bit ahead of her, his senses on high alert. 

They entered the cottage and Constance sat down the package of fabric she had purchased. She rid herself of all her winter time layers and hang them on the hook by the door. Her gaze found Monster and she realized he was still in wolf form and his eyes followed every move she made. 

Constance trembled under his dark gaze. "You have to relax," she scolded gently. "You can't be so overprotective of me." 

She headed toward the fireplace to start a fire and warm the cottage but stopped when she heard the unmistakable sound of her wolf man changing forms. When she turned to face him again, he was well over six feet of hard muscled, sweat slicked man, panting slightly from the exertion of the change. 	

Those dark eyes locked on hers. "I will protect you. You are all that matters in this world and I will not see harm come to you." 

There were several things Constance could say but none of them made it through her lips. Instead she let her gaze sweep up and down the man in front of her. A man who had already proven he would put her needs before his. A man who had saved her life. A man who helped her cook and lit fires so she wouldn't be cold. A man who had proven today that he could be good and gentle with children even if the night before she had barely stopped him from ripping a man's throat out.

Constance wanted him. She had never known the touch of a man and had honestly never felt deprived or as if she were missing anything. But now, now her body ached with a need that she had never in her life felt before. 	

Without a single word, and without giving herself time to talk her out of the bold decision she had come to, Constance crossed the room to him in several long strides. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his dark hair and pulling his head down as she rose on her toes and crushed her mouth to his. 

His body stiffened and Constance had a moment of doubt. A second where she nearly pulled away and went about the evening as if she hadn't just kissed him. But a second was all she had time for before his strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. His hand went to the back of her neck, cradling her as his thumb carressed her jaw. 

Her legs weakened beneath her but he kept her standing as a growl rumbled from his chest and his lips began to move against hers. 

---

Never in his life had he felt anything as soul consuming as Constance in his arms, her soft body pressed tight against his, and her mouth moving hungrily against his lips. He cradled her head in his hand and ran his thumb along the soft skin of her jaw. 

He was guided by pure primal instinct as he nipped at her bottom lip, causing her to gasp and giving him the opportunity to deepn the kiss. He carressed her tongue with his, drinking in the taste of her. Losing himself in the scent of her. Everything about this woman made him feel a peace, made him feel at home, even as his body heated and desire nearly boiled inside his blood, her nearness gave him peace. 

The want he felt for Constance burned within his blood. He craved her like open space. Needed her like oxygen. 

She moaned against his mouth and he felt his body respond. Every inch of him craving to be closer. Deeper. He was losing himself to the want. Desperate to consume her...

Blinding pain shattered within his head. His vision went black. Stars exploded behind his eyes. He screamed and grabbed his head roughly in his hands, squeezing tightlyas he stumbled away and fell to his knees. 

"M..Monster?" Constance's voice seemed far away, though he knew she was at his side because he could feel her gentle hands on his arms. "What's wrong?" she demanded, the scent of her fear thick in the air. 

He wanted to answer. He wanted to comfort and reassure her but the pain was stealing his voice and holding him hostage. He couldn't focus. Couldn't breathe. And just when he was certain his head was going to be torn to shreds from the inside out, thought became impossible and the world went black. 

---

Humming was the first sound to reach his ears as Sawyer awakened. The scent of potatoes and meat frying filled his nose. A clock ticked nearby. A soft blanket was draped over his body. 

But most noticeable, above all else, was the scent of her. Of home. 

His head ached. He felt dizzy and unsteady. His mouth was dry. He opened his eyes and found her with her back to him as seh stood at the stove, her dark hair falling around her shoulders. 

Another throb of pain beat behind Sawyer's eyes. Sawyer. His name. He remembered now. He remembered everything. And he needed to leave. 

The moment he moved to sit up from where he lay on the floor, Constance dropped the spatula she was using onto the counter and spun to face him. Those brown eyes were full of concern as seh rushed toward him. "Are you okay? You lost consciousness and simply collapsed. Nothing I did could wake you." 

Sawyer held up his hand to stop her as she neared him. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I remember who I am now. I can't be here. Me being here puts you in danger. I am leaving." 

Her eyes searched his face a moment as she processed what he had said. Then Constance rose to her full height, folded her hands in front of her and narrowed her dark gaze. "The hemlock you are."

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Sawyer blinked several times as he looked up at her. Her fighting spirit was something he admired about Constance but the woman needed to understand just who and what he was and where he had come from. 

"Constance..." 

"No." Her jaw tensed stubbornly. "We're going to eat our supper of steak, potatoes and green beans and you can talk abotu what you remember. What you are not going to do is leave me." 

Sawyer rose to his feet. The wolf inside him raging as it saw the hurt in her brown eyes. Leave her? The last thing in the world he ever wanted to do was leave her. She was his home and the only place he ever wanted to be was at her side but if they found him here....

"I never want to leave you, Constance. I want to be here with you always. But the man who created me, he was hunting me the day I lost my memories. I had run from him and he was hunting me. If he finds me here with you...." 

"Then I will kill him with my bare hands for what he's done to you," she practically snarled. Sawyer felt a smile tug at his lips. No wonder this woman drew him in so completely. Clearly, there was a bit of a monster in her as well.

"You may feel differently when you've heard all I have to say." 

Constance let out a sigh as her gaze went skyward. She pointed to the table. "Try me." 

Sawyer nodded, wrapped the blanket around his middle and took a seat as Constance went about making their plates. The last thing he wanted was to lose her but he wouldn't lie or withold information to keep her. "I don't remember my birth parents. The orphanage said my birth father dropped me off there when I was less than a year old after my mother died of fever." Sawyer tipped his head in thanks when Constance laid a plate of food in front of him. "The orphanage named me Sawyer..." 

"Sawyer?" Constance smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Sawyer." 

Sawyer couldn't give a name to the emotion that tugged at his heart at this sight of that smile and the sound of that name on her lips. It wasn't a name he had heard anyone call him in a lot of years. "No one has called me Sawyer in a long time. When I was around eight or nine, a man came to the oprhanage. He said he was looking for strong boys to work his farm. He adopted ten of us but he seemed happiest about adopting me. I had survived several outbreaks of sickness and kept living even while those around me died by the dozens. I was big for my age, standing head and shoulders above everyone else. I was happy to be adopted. I didn't think working a farm sounded too bad and at least it got me out of that cold, loveless place." 

Sawyer stared down at his plate. "The first night I was with that man I admit I cried. I cried to go back. He put the ten of us in seperate cages in a large room. The iron and stone was cold and all we had were cots and thin blankets. The injections started that night. I don't remember a lot of details from the first few months. Just a lot of injections, fevers, siezures, and all the other boys dying around me one by one. I lived." 

Constance lowered her fork and frowned. "He poisoned you all?" 

Sawyer shook his head. "He created me. He created the monster. The injections killed all the other boys but I grew taller and stronger. My senses and my reflexes grew sharper and quicker. The man in charge, I never knew his name. Everyone, including me, simply called him sir. He had his men begin to train me to fight.

"I'm not sure how long I was there before more injections began. These were different. They made my skin itch and burn as if something was living inside me. The first time I became the wolf was terrifying. He had his men begin to beat me and the rage began to build until the monster erupted from my skin. I killed five of them before they shot me with something and I fell asleep." 

"Sawyer I..." Constance reached across the table and laid her hand over his. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve any of that. You were a child..." 

"Not once he got me." Sawyer did not meet her gaze. It was too hard to see the look in her eyes as he told her the truth about himself and what he truly was. "I became a killer. He used me in fighting pits to earn money. He would put me in rooms with those that had information he wanted and I would convince them to give up that information. He used me to hunt and kill anyone who crossed him and anyone in his way.... I have slaughtered entire families..." 

"Sawyer..." 

He threw his chair back and leapt to his feet, shoving his hands through his hair. He strode away from her and went to the fire, staring into the flames. The echoing screams of his countless victims rang in his ears. "For over twenty years he had me and I did his bidding to avoid the pain and starvation he would inflict if i didn't. I'm a coward and a killer." 

Silence followed his admission. He had to know what Constance was thinking. Sparing a glance toward the table where he'd left her, he found that she was still sitting there and her expression was gentle as she gazed at him. "You were a child forced into self preservation who did what he had to do in order to survive. It was ugly, it was brutal, and it was completely unfair, but none of it was your fault. The fault rests soley on his shoulders, whatever his name is."

"You don't understand..." 

"You're right. I don't." She shrugged. "I won't pretend to know how you feel or what you went through. What I do know is who you have been since I have known you. Never once have I felt threatened by you or afraid of you. Startled by certain situations, maybe, but never fear of you. You have protected me, cared for me, most likely saved my life from that bear. You protected me from an angry man at my door and didn't kill him...." 

"I wanted to," Sawyer interrupted. "I would have if you hadn't stopped me. You are the first good thing to come into my life and I won't allow anyone to threaten you." 

He saw her tremble at his words and could scent her arousal in the air. His fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to keep his feet from carrying him to her. "Sawyer, you are not dangerous. Not to me. And you had an entire classroom of children today that trusted you. They saw a giant wolf, larger than any wolf should be. A wolf covered in scars with massive teeth and iron muscles and they weren't afraid. Doesn't that tell you something?"

Sawyer turned his body to face her and let out his breath in defeat. "You're right. I would never harm you or anyone you cared about. I would never harm a child or anyone who wasn't a threat to you. You need to know that I have harmed children but it was under his orders... and I'll never forgive myself for that." 

Constance stood up and folded her hands in front of her. She tilted her head to the side and studied him closely. "Stop trying to say things to make me turn my back on you. It's not going to happen. You're not the only one who has found home, Sawyer. You being near me brings me a peace I have never felt before--you've given me something I didn't even realize I was missing until I found you." 

Sawyer's heart pounded at her words. He wanted her. He wanted to lose himself in this woman and let go of his past. He wanted to spend every moment for the rest of his life at her side, simply basking in her. He took several steps her direction before stopping himself. "Constance, he won't let me go that easily and if he finds you.. if he were to harm you..." 

"You said it's been around two months since you lost your memory. Do you remember what happened just before that?"

"I remember I ran. I could not do the things he was making me do anymore. I had finally decided death was a better alternative. His men cornered me on a cliff and I was left with two options. Return to him or jump. I jumped. That's all I remember." 

Sawyer saw tears in her eyes and it caused his chest to ache. "I'm not worth that. Don't cry..."

"You are, Sawyer. You are worth that. Those other children are worth that. I'm sure he has been doing this a long time and there were more children than you've told me about and they are worth that. But it's been two months at least since you left him. Do you have any reason to think he's on your tail?"

Sawyer shook his head. "Only the fact that I know he wouldn't let me go. I was his only success, or at least his greatest success. He's not going to let his best weapon leave him." 

"But he doesn't know where you are," she insisted. "We are in the middle of nowhere here in a town that's not even a dot on a map. He won't find you." 

"And if he does?" 

Constance closed the distance between them and took his hand. Sawyer felt that familiar quiet come over his tormented soul. "Then we will deal with him. Together." 

The rasp in Sawyer's voice gave evidence to the deapth of his emotions and fear. "I can't lose you. I can't let him take you..." 

Constance squeezed his hand. "You won't lose me. I'm tougher than I look." 

Sawyer simply nodded. He knew that last part was true. This woman would stand at the gates of hell and never back down. He knew enough to know that. But could he risk her?

"Does he have anymore like you?" she asked, drawing him from his thoughts. 

"I don't think so. I never saw anyone else like me. He had a few that lived through injections and trials but never grew as big or strong as I did. And many of them became trapped in their monster forms or died during the shift. I am the only true success as far as I know." 

"So many children...." A tear rolled down her cheek. 

"There's one more thing I need you to know about me," Sawyer damn near shook with fear as he pulled away from her and put distance between them again. 

Constance rolled her eyes. "I told you to stop. Nothing you say is going to...." 

"He forced me to breed, Constance." Sawyer turned his back, unable and unwilling to see her expression. "He forced me to force women. He would bring us to a room with a steel table and force me to try to get them with child. It was cold and it was unfeeling and I did my best to simply turn my brain off so I wouldn't hear their cries...." Damn he was a monster. Even without the wolf he was a horrible person who had done horrible things. "He hoped that my offspring would be strong enough to endure his experiments like I did and be successful."

A long heavy silence followed his statement. Sawyer wanted to run. He wanted to rush out that door, let the monster out and simply run until his lungs burst. He was far too ugly for this woman to waste her goodness on. 

He heard movement. Her footsteps. And then suddenly her arms were around him. Her tiny hands rested palms down on his chest and her body was pressed tight to his bare back. "I'm so sorry, Sawyer." 

Sorry? He didn't deserve pity. He had forced women. Did she not understand that. "Constance..." 

"Stop." Her grip on him tightened. "He forced you to force them. He did that. Not you. You were a child. Brainwashed, manipulated, beaten, and abused. You had no other options. No one was coming to rescue you and the devil had you in his grasp." He was about to argue when her next words stopped his thoughts in their tracks. "How many children, Sawyer? How many of your children did he take from you?"

Sawyer frowned. He'd never thought of them as his actual children before. And he still didn't. They weren't anything he had created out of love with a woman he loved. They were never his. They were his masters children. "I don't see them that way," he replied honestly. The truth is all he would ever tell to Constance. "They were his children. And as far as I know he killed them all. If he was able to turn any of them into monsters like me he never said and I never saw." 

She was quiet for a long moment before responding. "There's nothing I can say that will change how you see yourself." Constance tightened her hold on him and felt her lips caress the bare skin of his back. "But I can tell you what I see when I look at you, especially knowing where you came from. Yes, you are strong and you are deadly and you are definitely not someone I would want to have as my enemy. But you are also open, honest, kind, and gentle. I have felt how gentle your touch can be  just as I've seen how ferocious your protective side can be. You are stubborn, thankfully, and you may have been mistreated but you were never broken. You are a person who had gone through things that no person should ever have to endure and you have come out with your humanity still plenty intact. Despite not knowing you long, I see a man that I am falling very much in love with, Sawyer." 

Sawyer stiffened. Love? She loved him? No one in his entire life had ever loved him--and he had never loved anyone. But he loved her. Had loved her since he'd first smelled her scent. His heart had been hers since the first time he'd looked into those brown eyes. 

He pulled away from her and turned in her arms. He cradled her face gently in his hands and stooped to press the tenderest of kisses against her lips. "I don't want to lose you, Constance. I also don't want to put you in danger..." 

"I'm not afraid to take the risk. If he shows himself, we'll deal with it." 

He sighed. She spoke with such assureadness but she didn't truly know that man or what he was capable of. Sawyer took a step back. "I need space. I need to think..." He could feel the wolf inside him craving to be let out. It was angry that he was even contemplating leaving Constance and the home she provided. It was even angrier at the thought of anyone, even the master, thinking they could harm a hair on her beautiful head. 

Despite the sadness he could smell in he air and see in her eyes, Constance managed a small smile and nodded. "Of course. I will never force you to do anything, Sawyer. Even stay with me." 

The wolf raged and clawed within him as Sawyer went to the door. It took every ounce of his strength to simply open the door and slip out of it, knowing that Constance was full of sadness and watching him walk away from her. 

He let the wolf free once he was outside, his skin tearing as he shifted quickly, and with a long howl, he raced out into the woods. Needing distance and space to think clearly about his tormented past and what his future was going to look like. Could he risk Constance for his own happiness or would he break her heart by leaving her behind and keeping her safe?

---

Constance stood there a long while simply staring at the open door, unable to get any real reading on her racing thoughts. It wasn't until the cold late winter air began to chill her skin that Constance snapped from her daze and closed the door.

As she went about stoking the fire and cleaning up teh dinner they'd barely touched, she found herself crying--which was not something she had ever made a habit of doing. Tears over the fact that Sawyer was gone. That her words had not seemed to sway him. She wanted him at her side regardless of the danger that may or may not come their way. But, she would not beg or attempt to force him to stay. Sawyer's life had been one of imprisonment and servitude. He'd been forced to do things no one should ever do and Constance would not add to that. 

Her poor Sawyer. Constance could not and would not pretend to understand how he must be feeling with so many horrible memories flooding back. The things he'd been forced to do...She shivered, pushing thsoe thoughts and images from her mind. 

Sawyer would be back. Constance had to believe that. She had to trust that the warmth and acceptence she had shown him would override the self-hared, blame, and fear he was struggling with. She could only hope he would come back and allow her to help him work through those things and heal.

Sawyer was worth it. 

Constance swept the floors, washed up the dishes and drew up water before heating it for a bath. After washing off and cleaning her hair, she slipped into her sleeping gown and robe. Constance glanced out the window. The darkness outside was barely illuminated by the moon but she knew she was alone. Sawyer had not yet returned. 

Constance couldn't begin to sew his clothes without first getting his measurements so her busy work for the weekend was on hold. She settled for repairing a skirt that had torn and reading a bit by lamp light before retiring to bed, leaving the cottage door unlocked but locking her bedroom door in case anyone other than Sawyer were to enter the cabin during the night. 

Constance slipped into bed and hugged her pillow close with tears streaking her cheeks as she wondered where her Sawyer was and if he truly was going to come back to her.

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Constance woke the next morning to a pounding on her cottage door. The sun was bright outside and she realized it must be close to ten in the morning. Constance hadn't slept that late in as long as she could remember. But then, she hadn't managed to turn off her tormented thoughts and find sleep until the wee hours of the morning. 

The incessant knocking became louder. "Constance! Please open this door and allow us in!" 

Constance frowned at the sound of her mother's voice and the urgency it held. She leapt from her bed and did not even put on her robe before racing to the front door and wrenching it open. 

There stood her mother and stepfather with their backs to her as they stared out into the yard at something her stepfather had his gun pulled and aimed at. Constance craned her neck to glance around them. 

"Monster!" she exclaimed when she saw the giant black wolf standing a short distance away, his lips pulled back in a snarl as he eyed her parents and the gun her stepfather held. 

"Yes, Taylor, it's most definitely a monster." Her mother nudged her husband. "Shoot it!" 

"No!" Constance shoved herself between them, and in her bare feet rushed out into the snow to place herself between the gun and Sawyer. Without thought, Constance jerked the weapon from her stepfather's grasp. 

"What are you doing?" he demanded angrily as he grabbed the weapon back. 

Sawyer growled deep and she heard him take a step forward as his paw crunched on the frozen snow. Why was he here? Had he come back because he too had decided that they were worth any risk? Her heart hammered at the thought. "Monster is my... pet. I do not wish for my guests to aim their guns at him." 

Constance wrapped her arms around herself as the cold air bit into her skin. "Honestly, Constance!" her mother snapped. "Do you realize you're practically naked outdoors in the snow in front of your stepfather?" 

Constance had never been one to cower before her sometimes overbearing mother. She forced herself to ignore the frigid air and the shivering it was causing and stood straight, squaring her shoulders. "Yes, well, I was awoken by your banging and yelling at my door and I opened it to find you attempting to shoot my monster." 

"Awoken?" Her mother scoffed and adjusted her bonnet. "You do realize it is nearly eleven in the day, do you not? And I would not have been out here yelling, nor your stepfather aiming a gun, if your unorthodox and rather inappropriate pet had not attacked us and frightened off our horse and cart." 

Constance opened her mouth to speak but was silenced when Sawyer walked up beside her, took her hand gently between his teeth and began to guide her into the house and out of the cold. 

"Yes, how rude of me," her stepfather spoke up. "Let's get you ladies in out of the cold." 

Constance attempted to pull her hand from his jaw once inside but Sawyer simply tightened his hold and led her to the sofa before pushing her down upon it with a thud. Her mother was removed all her winter layers at the door while her stepfather began building a fire in the fireplace. 

Sawyer released his hold on her and plodded through the cottage, his nails clicking on the floor. Constance did not turn to watch him as her thoughts were preoccupied with why he had come back and what it meant. 

...And also how best to get rid of her mother and stepfather so she could have Sawyer to herself and get the answers she so desperately needed. 

She shivered, still feeling the effects of the cold outside air. The quilt she always kept on the sofa was missing and she remembered that Sawyer had taken it outside with him the night before. She tucked her feet up under her, cursing the burning numbness that was plaguing them. The clicking of his claws announced his approach as Sawyer came around the sofa carrying a quilt and her robe in his jaws. 	

Constance smiled her thanks and stood long enough to put on her robe before sitting back down and covering herself with the quilt. She couldn't stop herself from smiling when Sawyer hoisted his massive frame up onto the sofa which was far too small for him and rested his head in her lap. 

Constance lowered her face to his ear. "Are you here because you choose us?" she whispered. 

He pulled his head away and those dark eyes met hers. His head moved in the smallest of nods before he raised up and nuzzled her neck. Constance nearly burst into tears as she pulled her arms free from the blanket and hugged him tight. 

"Honestly, Constance. That seems unsanitary. You have no idea where that creature has been," her mother scolded as she sat down in the nearby armchair. 

Constance simply smiled into his fur and held him a bit tighter before releasing her hold. "What brings you both by today?" she asked. It was unusual for her mother to come all the way out to her home simply for a visit. 

"We heard some news in town that concerned us and since you've not seen fit to grace us with your presence lately, I was forced to make the long trip to your cottage in the middle of nowhere to see things for myself." 

Sawyer stiffened and Constance stroked his fur to calm him. The poor man and his protective nature needed to pick and choose battles. Her mother's mouth was just getting started. There was a reason Constance chose to keep her dealing with the woman few and far between. Small doses. Sawyer relaxed against her, with his head in her lap and his dark eyes locked on her mother. 

"What news would have brought you all the way out here? I'll be in town Monday morning. Couldn't it have waited until then?"

Her mother fussed with her hair a moment and averted her gaze, clearly uncomfortable under Sawyers scrutiny. "Constance, you have always been stubborn and headstrong but making enemies with a man like Carlton Reeves is something I thought even you had the sense not to do." 

Constance laughed. "Carlton Reeves? You're here because Carlton Reeves has said what, mother? That he came to my home at night drunk and threatening violence? Or that I did not cower before him and Monster nearly ripped his throat out before the man wet himself and ran off into the night?"

Her stepfather stood straight, a fire now beginning to roar in the fireplace. "Constance, your mother and I are concerned about you for that very reason. You are not safe living out here alone. Especially if you're going to be making enemies of men like that. Men who will come out here and harm you while you are helpless in the middle of nowhere." 

"I am hardly helpless," Constance snapped, her temper flaring quickly at this usual argument. Her mother and stepfather were constantly telling her what a mistake it was that she lived in the cottage alone so far from town. They'd gone round and round about it more times than Constance could count. "I have my wits, I have my gun...." 

Sawyer raised his head, the growl in his chest vibrating against her as he bared his two inch teeth. Constance smiled. "And I have him. I am safer than I have ever been before." 

"You need to stay out of the Reeves family business," her stepfather warmed, his blue eyes narrowing. "What a man does or doesn't do in his own home with his own family is no business of yours." 

Constance narrowed her gaze at the man her mother had chosen to marry. It wasn't that he was a bad man, he simply was very private and wanted everyone to stay out of his matters, just as he stayed out of theirs. 

"If I see a hungry child, I will offer them food," Constance countered. "No amount of threats could ever convince me to do otherwise." 

Her mother sighed. "Please, we know you are concerned about that girl but you are my daughter and I am concerned about you. I don't like hearing that a man has been here threatening you. You need to be more careful about what you say and do if you're going to insist on living out here. Mind our business and stay out of anyone's else's. Don't bring unwanted and unneeded trouble to your door." 

Constance knew that the easiest and quickest way to end this discussion and have her mother and stepfather going on their way was to simply agree with them. She nodded. "I will be more careful. I promise." 

"And for goodness sake," her mother scolded. "You can't be parading around town with that massive beast at your side. People already whisper about you given your unmarried status and your desire to live alone. All you're doing is drawing more attention to yourself." 

She put her hand on Sawyer's head, forcing him to keep it in her lap when she felt him beginning to tense again. She didn't need him offering yet more growls and threats toward her family. "He was with me that day because the night before Carlton had been here threatening me. I thought it wise to have extra protection with me should the man choose to approach me in town."  

"While I appreciate that he is eager to protect you, you wouldn't need the protection if you'd simply move back into town and stop with speaking your mind when you should keep your opinions to yourself. A proper woman..." 

Constance stopped her stepfather's words with a sharp glance. "Please tell me what a man knows of being a proper woman? Is your education vast on the subject?" 

"Yes, Taylor, please educate us on the complexities of womanhood," her mother agreed with a raise of her brow.

Her stepfather coughed and his cheeks reddened beneath the brown scruff they were covered in. He poked at the fire and cleared his throat. "I was only trying to help, Caroline." 

Constance sighed as her mother stared her stepfather down another few seconds. The woman certainly knew how to put someone in their place when she chose. 

Her mothers gaze returned to her. "Now, Constance, we've said all we can on the subject. You need to do as your stepfather suggested but you and I both know that you will simply continue to live just as you always have--doing whatever you wish without any concern for propriety or anything else." 

"I'm glad we can agree on that at least." 

"Where did you find that beast, anyhow?" her stepfather asked. 

Constance met Saywer's gaze as he looked up at her. She smiled down at him. "He found me, actually. Appeared on my doorstep one night." 

"And you saw fit to make a house pet of him?" her mother sniffed. 

Constance sighed, stroking Sawyer's head. "He's free to come and go as he chooses. It's my hope that he'll choose to stay." 

Sawyer's massive paw came to rest atop her hand that had been on her lap. Damn she wanted her family to leave so she could talk to the man! Constance cleared her throat. "I had plans of doing quite a bit of work around here today. Was there another reason for your visit or...." 

"Look at her, Taylor," her mother scoffed, rising to her feet. "So eager to be rid of the mother she never seems able to make time for." 

Constance was long past allowing her mother to push her buttons or harm her feelings with her snide comments. "I simply know you'll have a long walk getting home." 

Her mother gave her a pointed glare before getting to her feet. "I suppose we'll let you get on with your day. After spending so much of it in bed, I daresay you're feeling a bit behind." 

"Yes, and I daresay your horse and buggy are already at home waiting to be put up." 

Her mother chose not to respond immediately as her husband helped her into her coat. Finally, she smoothed her plaid skirt. "If you lived in town and didn't keep such dreadful beasts for company, we wouldn't have such issues with frightened horses and we could visit more often." 

"I am quite happy with my life just as it is," Constance assured her. 

The back and forth continued for several more minutes as Constance rose from the sofa and saw them to the door. As her stepfather followed his wife out the door, he hesitated and offered Constance a small smile. "We truly do simply worry for your safety, Constance. Your mother and I only want your happiness." 

Constance laid her hand on his arm. "I am quite happy here. While I know that my mother struggles to see how I could be happy living the way I do, it's truly all I want," she vowed. "And between my gun and my companion..." Sawyer took his place beside her. "...I am quite safe. Safer than I would be anywhere else." 

Constance watched them walk away until they rounded a bend before closing the door. She locked it to ensure privacy and turned to find those dark eyes gazing up at her. 

"You had better be here to stay," she warned, her heart and body aching for the man. "Because despite having the best of intentions to not force you into being at my side, my resolve is growing weak and all I want in the world is you here with me always." 

Constance did not find herself flinching or closing her eyes when Sawyer's body began to change. In seconds he was standing before her as the man she loved. 

Constance's hungry gaze ate up the sight of him. Almost seven feet of muscles and scars that held such a delicious contradiction of tenderness. He took a small step toward her. "Here with you is where I will be. Always." 

A/N: Perhaps a bit of spice next chapter? And we can see where Constance learned how to spar with words. Hope y’all enjoyed the chapter! I know they’re short but that’s the only way I can update regularly!