And then she had fisted his shirt and shoved him to the door and out of it.
For a female, Skye had balls.
She had huffed and slammed the door, hadn’t seemed to notice the blood that had been tracking down her chin. Rather than wiping it away or finally breaking down, she had pivoted on her heel and begun righting the furniture.
Knox had stepped in to help her, pushing one of the rustic handmade tables back onto its feet and setting the toppled stools around it. One of them hadn’t made it and he had turned to mention it to her, the pieces of the stool in his hands. Her large, deep brown eyes had utterly bewitched him as they had sparked with gold fire. They had locked with his for a moment, stealing his voice, and then she had dropped them to the broken pieces of the stool and had muttered dark things as she had taken them from him.
And offered him a drink.
He had been quick to take her up on it, to follow her to the bar and ease onto one of the stools beside it as she had grabbed a towel and dabbed at her chin. When she had slid a double shot of whiskey over to him, he had risked it.
He had offered to take a look at her cut.
And gods, the way she had trusted him still floored him even now. Made him feel like a dick all over again. She had leaned towards him, her black Van Halen T-shirt pressing against the damp bar top, and had let him touch her. He could still remember the soft feel of her skin. It was seared on his mind together with the scent of her blood and everything else about her.
He had been lost in her as he had looked at the wound, inhaling her scent and marvelling at the effect it had on him, how it roused a fierce need to be closer to her. When she had softly asked whether it was bad, he had managed to find his voice and tell her it would be fine, but it was going to scar.
He had dabbed at the cut for her, gently cleaning it, and she had thanked him with a smile as she had taken hold of the towel, her fingers brushing his.
Had rocked his entire world on its axis as she had smiled warmly and told him that ‘men dig scars’.
Knox stopped behind a tree as the past rolled up on him and a feeling swept through him, and not for the first time. What he wouldn’t give to be able to go back in time and do things right with her. He huffed quietly and focused on Skye, closed his eyes as he pressed his back to the tree.
He had a second chance with her now and he wasn’t going to waste it.
His senses locked on to her as she moved below him, passing him, and he wanted to groan and sink into the tree as he smelled her. She still wore the same perfume, one he had never gotten the name of, which was probably a good thing. If he had, he would have bought a dozen bottles and spent the last two years tormenting himself with her scent.
He would have deserved that torture.
Gods, maybe it would have helped him grow some balls and head into town to face her wrath.
He angled his head to his left and stared at her back as she picked her way over the snowy, uneven ground. Wrath he deserved. Wrath he knew was coming to him. He hadn’t missed the way she had looked at him. The anger she felt towards him had been right there in her eyes when she had glared at him. She was going to give him hell when they were finally together, and whatever she needed to dish out to him, he would take it, as long as it made her feel better.
But first, he needed to get her out of this mess.
He studied the four males, and then the route ahead of them. There was a gorge caused by run-off from the mountains around seven hundred feet ahead of Skye. It would force her to head towards the river, but at a point where the cabins of Cougar Creek wouldn’t be visible. If he could get her to notice him again without being spotted by the males, he could try to direct her to head closer to the mountain instead, where she would be able to cross the stream before it cut into the dirt to form the ravine.
Knox pushed away from the tree and stalked through the forest, keeping behind the males and at a distance from them, ensuring they didn’t hear him. The recent snowfall helped in that respect, cushioning his footsteps, but it also meant he was leaving a track behind him. If one of the males cut away from the group, there was a chance they would see his trail of boot prints.
A thought struck Knox.
He grinned.
There was a way to make sure that Skye headed towards the mountain to go around the gorge rather than away from it, towards Cougar Creek.
Knox sprinted through the forest, heading towards the mountain, skirting around Skye and the men so they didn’t hear him. When he reached the deep gorge the stream had cut into the forest floor, exposing boulders that easily concealed the dangerous twenty-foot drop to the water below, he stopped and assessed the path that went towards the mountain and then the one between him and Skye.
His blue eyes scanned the ground and he grinned again as he spotted a fallen branch from one of the spruces. He grabbed it and brushed the snow with it, concealing his tracks as he walked towards where he hoped Skye would meet the gorge. He walked from there down towards the creek a little, enough that the humans wouldn’t be able to see his boot prints only started at a certain point.
Satisfied they wouldn’t be able to see the start of his fake trail, he turned back and walked up the slope, brushing the snow a little so it looked as if it had blown into the tracks over the last few days. He crossed the point where he thought Skye would meet the trail and carried on, following the ravine towards the mountain.
Knox glanced back at his trail, checking it, satisfaction pouring through him. It looked good. Convincing. He continued up to the point where the stream tumbled over rocks on the same level as the forest floor during summer but was covered in a sheet of ice right now. He banked left and stopped near it. Beneath the ice, he could hear water still running, defying the cold weather. There must have been a warm spell before the cougars had woken him and his pride, the temperatures rising high enough that the ice on the mountain had melted to form a torrent beneath the top layer of snow. The speed of the flow was enough to kept the ice from forming thickly over the stream as it entered the shelter of the trees and grew shallower.
It wouldn’t take much to break through the brittle ice and get a boot full of water, so he used the rocks to cross to the other side and walked for a few more feet, until he reached a clearing. It felt like a sensible place to stop the trail as he looked around and found several large bushes that he could easily hide in as well as some big boulders dotted among the thinning trees.
Just beyond a bank of those trees, the side of the mountain loomed, golden light warming the snowy slopes and the grey cliffs as the day wore on. It would be dark soon. If he knew Skye, she would pick this spot as a place to rest for the night.
He busied himself with making his tracks disappear into the snow, giving her a reason to convince the males to stop there, and then skulked into the shadows, charting the terrain, picking out spots where he could hide as he ran over possible outcomes. He wanted to take out one of the men tonight. One of them was bound to stray away from the others, even if it was only to relieve themselves. If they were the sort of male who didn’t like an audience, then Knox could take them down while they were alone.
Knox rested near a boulder, planting his backside to it, and breathed deep of the cold air, trying to quell the dark needs that were stirring his bear side into a frenzy. The urge to shift was strong, constantly pressing him, but he held it back. His bear side was the more powerful of his two forms and the one he would need to use in order to take down the men without alerting them to the fact there was another male out here in the forest hunting them, but it had its drawbacks too.