Devin placed another log in the fireplace and pushed it into the flames with the iron rod. The small blaze crackled and grew taller, and a woodsy pine aroma filled the interior of the cottage. He’d always forgotten the sense of tranquility this place brought to him. It had been so long since he’d last lived here. The cobwebs were just beginning to take over. But, it wasn’t the state of the cottage that worried him most.

He replaced the rod on its hook, dusted the palms of his hands off on the front of his jeans and turned around. He focused his gaze on the majestic beauty that slept like a fairy on the large four-poster bed in the middle of the cottage. Her hair fanned out like a curtain as she curled up under the quilt on her side into a fetal-like position. She was light and slim in build, but surprisingly tall. Her skin was a light tea-colored shade in contrast to the dark mahogany hue of her hair. There were hints of red highlighted through it.

Devin moved closer and observed the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She’d slept through sunrise and beyond. Sunset was on the rise and she’d stirred a few times, but had yet to awake. He supposed that her body was working overtime trying to heal the nasty sprain on her right ankle. She was lucky the bones weren’t broken. It had shocked him to see her small frame falling from the window of the museum. But had she fallen or jumped?

He turned his attention back to the vegetable soup boiling on the stove. His mother used to cook it all the time for him when he was a pup. From past memories, he’d picked out the fresh ingredients at the market to make the soup. He’d nearly cut his finger trying to slice the carrots, but managed somehow. It wasn’t every day that he prepared meals.

After turning the burner on low, he stirred the contents of the pot. He drew in a deep breath, taking in the delicious aroma of the mix of various spices. So this was what he was missing in a good home cooked meal? His solitary life back in Montana made it easier to dine out almost every night. He would have devoured the whole pot on the spot, but it was not customary among his kind to eat before the women. This was something he didn’t have to worry about; he shouldn’t have been worried about it now. He was an unmated wolf. How could the stranger on his bed trigger this custom now?

Customs weren’t the only thing the lone woman triggered. His wolf had taken a strong urge to protect her.

Devin walked toward the door and picked up the ax at the foyer. He closed the door softly behind him so as not to wake her and walked outside in snow.

Flakes fell onto his bare arms, but he didn’t so much as flinch. They melted immediately on contact.

He positioned a big hunk of tree on the ground and continued cutting at it. The fireplace was the only thing keeping the woman warm, and he estimated she would need a few more days of it.

Once he was certain the woman could fend for herself, with all the firewood she needed plus a well-stocked pantry, he would leave. He’d contemplated leaving already a few times, but couldn’t bear to desert her in her state.

Devin had no idea what she had done or what she was trying to get away from, but he had enough of his own troubles to deal with.

* * *

Tamara woke up to the sound of banging. It was a God-awful sound that matched the pain piercing through her head. Immediately she noticed she was in a bed…a very soft one. This was very unusual since she’d been on the run with Brad for the past couple months. Hotels and the back seat of a van had been her sleeping place during that time.

She focused on the soft light coming from the lamp on the nightstand next to her. Palming the soft linen beneath her, she lifted herself to a sitting position. The yummy scent of food flowed under her nose and her stomach grumbled aloud. Glancing around, she took in her surroundings. She seemed to be in some kind of cabin. The walls weren’t really walls, but appeared to be trees hammered together to form the small square space that was the interior. A log cabin?

How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was her body hitting the ground and the startling emerald eyes that seemed to pierce her soul.

It was surprisingly warm inside, but when she looked to the window above the door, snowflakes hit and stuck to the glass. The wind rustled and whistled and something scratched at the roof.

Tamara lifted the covers and balked at the flannel men’s shirt and pajama bottoms she wore. She closed her lips tightly together and her eyes lingered again over her surroundings. The pounding started up again outside. It sounded an awful lot like someone was taking a hammer to something.

She had no recollection of this place. She needed to get out of here now.

As she swung her legs over the bed, a sharp pang of discomfort raced up her right leg. She bent over to stroke her ankle. There were bandages wrapped around it. Had she done this? She didn’t remember much. Images of the jump she made from the museum window. Being face to face with the wolf. Feeling the crisp air whip at her face as she rode away on its back.

Holding onto the edge of the nightstand for support, she eased herself up. The wood floorboards creaked loudly as she pressed her weight against it. The pain throbbed once more, but it was nothing she hadn’t experienced before.

The doorknob rattled and she turned in time to see it turn and the door being swung open. She froze as a large man stepped under the door frame. Her gasp lodged in her throat, but her heart raced at a full sprint.

The man stood in the doorway and stared at her. She noticed the mysterious emerald eyes of the wolf right away. In one hand, he gripped a rope that secured together a bundle of firewood. In the other hand, he held an ax. He placed the offending tool next to the door frame.

Tamara exhaled, but her veins drummed erratically with alarm. The stranger let go of the rope and the wood bundle hit the floor with a thud. Her eyes traveled from his boots to the pair of form-fitting jeans he wore. They were ripped at the knees. He wore a single gray t-shirt that was completely damp. Droplets of water covered his massive bronzed arms.

Another gust of wind whooshed against the cabin and a few slivers of snowflakes flew inside. Her body shivered, reminding her that it was colder than Hades himself outside. Still the seemingly mute stranger stood there like it was a hot summer day on the beaches of Honolulu.

She lifted her gaze to his face. He sported a wide jawline and set of full lips. From where she stood, she observed a dimple on both cheeks. There was stubble on his face that appeared to be at least two days old. The ends of his black hair settled and fanned over his shoulders. But nothing was more startling than his powerful green stare.

The man kicked out a foot behind him and slammed the door shut.

Her heart jumped up to her throat and she gripped the edge of the nightstand firmly. “Who are you?”

“Devin.” His strong voice echoed throughout the cabin.

“What am I doing here?”

“I brought you here.” He reached down to grab the bundle and came closer into the cabin.

“Pervert! Where are my clothes?”

Devin turned, as if ignoring her and placed the firewood next to the fireplace. He grabbed the ends of his shirt and raked it up over his head.

His back muscles rippled as he hung his shirt on a chair beside him. The taut skin on his torso was bronze in color, and there wasn’t an inch of fat on him.

“My clothes?” she asked.

He took long strides toward her and she pinned herself against the wall beside the bed. The silver buckle on his belt sparkled as he approached.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned.

He didn’t listen to her orders, and she searched nearby for a weapon. At the foot of the bed, he placed a stack of clothes. They were folded neatly. These were her clothes, only they’d been recently washed.

Tamara loosened her grip on the bedpost. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten very far on a sprained ankle.” He knelt over the box at the foot of the bed and pulled out a fresh t-shirt. The nice rippled chest disappeared. “I don’t know who or what you were hiding or running from, but you can stay here until your leg heals. You won’t be able to run again until it does.”

She looked around again. “Is this your house?” Some of the surfaces needed a bit of dusting.

“Yes.” Devin had moved to the kitchen. He reached up into a small cupboard and removed a large bowl. After scooping a generous helping of the delicious smelling soup inside, he placed it on a tray. There was a small table under a window where he sat the food.

He was halfway across the cabin again before she could stop him. Before she knew it, he’d scooped her up and was carrying her. She didn’t have time to allow fright to overcome her. Even though he held her steady, her fingers gripped his arms on instinct. They were taut, just as she thought. Her palms brushed the skin, which was surprisingly smooth and soft. He was extremely warm to the touch. She knew his smell—a spicy distinct fragrance.

He sat her down gently in a chair and slid the bowl of soup across the table. Her appetite suddenly roused as the steam floated up from the bowl. She swallowed, but her throat was exceptionally dry.

“I’m not very hungry.” Her eyes shifted away from the food to the floor in an attempt to avoid eye contact with him.

“I can hear your stomach grumbling. You’re hungry alright.” With that, he turned and focused his attention on the wood bundle.

She frowned and as if on cue, her stomach protested loudly. “You could be trying to poison me.”

“If I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be alive this very moment,” he said as he unraveled the rope securing the firewood.

“Where’s the wolf?”

Devin’s hands froze over the firewood and his eyes shot to her. There was a hint of shock in them. “He’s not home right now.”

“Is he your wolf?” She would never forget the wolf, no matter how hard she’d fallen. It’d saved her from a fate worse than death.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, he is.”

“I’d like to thank him for saving me. He’s a good wolf.”

Devin seemed to pause at her words, but he didn’t reply. He threw another piece of firewood at the flames and stood there poking at it.

Tamara spooned some of the soup and brought it to her lips. She savored the flavorful goodness of the concoction. It warmed her insides and reminded her of her nurturing mother. A second and third spoonful eaten turned into even more and the bowl was empty before long.

When she turned, Devin had just begun stuffing a duffel bag with clothes from the chest at the foot of the bed.

“Are you packing?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going?” The thought slipped out before she could stop herself.

Devin swept his eyes over her, but it wasn’t in aggravation. “Home.”

Tamara shook her head. “I thought this was your home.”

“I own this place, but it hasn’t been my home for years.” He zipped up the bag. “I have to return to my hometown to take care of some business.”

“Oh.” The thought of him leaving suddenly bothered her. She had no idea why. Devin was a complete stranger.

“There’s enough firewood on the porch for a few weeks. By that time, the temperature should have already warmed up.” He prowled back over to the fireplace, pulled out a loose stone, and pocketed a wad of cash. “There’s enough food in the cupboard and in the freezer for a month. Eat what you need. We’re not too far from town. The path behind the cottage leads right into it.”

Shaking her head, she panicked. All this had been a bad idea. What made her think she would ever be able to make it on her own?

He seemed to ignore her as he prepared for his exit. “If you’re running from the law, I advise you to lay low for a while. There’s a carnival in town, and the roads are swarming with police cruisers. You’re free to stay here as long as you need.”

“I’m not running from the law exactly.”

Finally, he paused and turned his attention to her. “What are you running from?”

“My past,” she whispered.

He drew his brows together. “Your past?”

She nodded, and once again let her eyes trail across the floor.

“Are you in danger?”

“Yes. No. I mean, not anymore.”

He came to stand in front of her. “Are you afraid of something…someone?”

She wrung her hands in her lap and nodded.

Devin hunched his shoulders, and then he raised his eyebrows in question. “Who are you afraid of?”

“I’d rather not discuss my past. I want to leave it behind,” she said, firmly.

“What’s your name?”

“Tamara,” she said. The man had offered food, and his home, but didn’t even know her name.

“I’ll stay one more day, Tamara, if that will make you feel comfortable.”

She lifted her head to meet his gaze and smiled at him. “Yes, please. I’d like that very much.”

He nodded and let his bags drop to his feet.