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Six

6

S A B L E

FOR A MOMENT, I got lost in Ridge’s honey-colored eyes. I woke up expecting to come face-to-face with Uncle Clint, but what I ended up getting instead was pretty much the complete opposite of the man who raised me.

When the dark-haired man caught me near the trees, I was so certain I was about to die that I fought with everything I had in me. But inside his house, something shifted in his demeanor.

His gruff voice managed to block out the fear, to shove away the rising panic so that I could focus on him and his calming words.

I started to calm down. I started to feel… safe.

But I don’t feel safe now.

Nearly a half-dozen of the biggest people I’ve ever seen crowd into his living room, voices raised as angry, violent energy pours out of them. My terror returns full force, and I cower into the cushions, wishing I could sink right through them and disappear to the other side of the planet.

Ridge meets my eyes, a look of resignation passing through his amber irises. Then he pushes to his feet.

He’s just as big as any of the men who’ve barged into the house, if not bigger. He wears a plain white t-shirt and

Wranglers, but beneath those working man clothes, he has a body like I’ve never seen before: lean, muscular, broad shoulders and powerful legs. His ash-brown hair has a messy, unbrushed look that happens accidentally, and the close-cut beard gracing his jaw only heightens the scruffy wildness of his appearance.

He turns to face the newcomers, his boots shoulder-width apart and his hands dangling at his sides as he addresses the crowd. “Lawson. You ever heard of fuckin’ knocking?”

Something about his pose tells me he’s not casual—Ridge looks as if he could jerk into motion at any moment and put his fist through the big guy’s face.

Lawson, the apparent leader of the group, puffs up his chest, his scowl deepening. “You brought an outsider into our village.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” another guy snaps.

His question raises a rumble of agreement from the others. “The pack wants answers.” Lawson opens his palms up as

if to indicate the mob behind him. He’s a little taller than Ridge, but he doesn’t take up the room with just his presence like Ridge does. I have a feeling this guy is all show.

The thought doesn’t really help me breathe past the looming panic attack though. He’s still massive, with fists like ham hocks and an expression so full of loathing, I can’t tell if he wants to get rid of me or Ridge. Possibly both.

“We’re already facing a threat from the witches!” the only woman in the group snaps, raising her voice over the dull roar of the crowd. She’s tall and formidable, muscles rippling in her golden brown arms. “And you drag this fucking carcass into our pack? You don’t know that she isn’t one of those wolf-hating assholes!”

I can’t keep up with what they’re saying. Panic has turned my heart into a fluttering bird in my chest, and their faces and voices are starting to blur together.

The pack? Witches? Wolf-hating?

None of this makes sense, and it’s only exacerbating the fear I’d barely gotten past before they arrived. My panic is clawing its way back full force, stronger than it was before.

I try to hold it in, to control it and contain it. Ridge doesn’t have any plans to hurt me—I’m sure of it. I saw something in his mesmerizing amber eyes before the mob arrived, a kind of protective warmth that barely made sense at the time. We don’t know each other, but he wants to help me.

I believe him.

But voices are rising in anger. Six large people shouting at Ridge about putting the pack in danger, and Ridge facing them down with a stoic, expressionless face and low tones. He looks formidable, more dangerous than any of them could ever hope to be. But it’s still six on one, and I don’t want to be hurt anymore. I don’t want anyone to be hurt.

I can’t take more fucking violence. More anger.

My chest feels like it’s being squeezed by a massive rubber band. I can’t breathe.

As they continue screaming, I clutch at the couch cushions, trying not to fall into the panic attack I know is coming.

Everything that’s happened to me in the last twenty-four hours is catching up to me—the fall down the stairs, seeing Doctor Patil, escaping my uncle, plunging into the ravine, waking up here in this strange cabin, and now this, these raised voices and the obvious animosity dangling in the air between my rescuer and Lawson.

What if Ridge isn’t a nice guy? What if this is all a ruse by my uncle to hurt me? What if these people are going to tear me apart and scatter my pieces in the mountains?

My breaths come faster, ever more painful as I gasp for air. My gaze darts between the people yelling and back to

Ridge. I want him to make them go away. I want a chance to catch my breath, to figure out what the hell is going on.

Instead, I feel like I’m on the verge of a heart attack. My body is going to murder me before Clint or anyone else gets the chance.

Tensions soar higher, voices growing deeper and angrier, and suddenly, one of the men in the mob does something… strange. His body begins to morph, to change shape.

It only takes a second, but in my current state of mind, it feels like it takes a lifetime. When it’s over, where he stood on two legs before, a wolf stands in his place.

A large, growling wolf. And I finally lose it.

The scream that comes from my lips is like nothing I’ve ever emitted in my entire life. Not even in the heat of Uncle Clint’s punishments. Not even when I was little and hadn’t taught myself to bear the pain, to go to another place inside my mind.

I scramble up onto the couch, still screaming, my legs tangling beneath me as I try to get my knees to work so I can run away. My heart pounds against my chest, frantic and demanding, trying to escape the terror inside me.

I see Ridge move. He reaches for me, but I can’t hear his words. Then his face goes hard and he whips back around toward the waiting group, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

The wolf takes a few steps forward, snarling.

What the hell is happening? Why can’t I wake up from this?

“Get the fuck out!” Ridge yells, his words the first sound to cut through my panic.

At his voice, I stop screaming, perched on the headrest of the couch, my fingernails digging into the corduroy. I gulp for breath, clinging to the sound of his deep baritone.

“Out!” Ridge snarls, shoving Lawson toward the door. The bigger man is thrown backward as if Ridge punched him, and he hits the wall hard, shaking the entire house. The wolf backs away with a yip as the other four people all cower a bit too. “And don’t ever fucking question my authority again!”

The entire group scrambles away into the daylight, and Ridge leans out behind them, snarling, “Next time, fucking knock!” before he slams the door on their exit.

Then he looks back at me, and the fury on his face melts away as he strides across the room. He comes around the back of the couch, cupping my face in his hands. “Hey, shh. Shh, it’s okay. They’re gone. You’re okay.”

I’m still sucking in air like a drowning victim. I have tunnel-vision now, black edges sneaking in around my eyesight. Even his voice can’t cut through this. I’m going to die of a heart attack, right here on the back of his couch like I’m a damn cat.

“Look at me.” Ridge says gru½y, breaking through the rush of noise in my head. I obey, clutching at his hands which still hold my face. “You’re having a panic attack. What helps you through this?”

What helps?

A part of me recognizes that he knows this is normal for me. He knows I’ve done this before, again and again, my mind attempting to deal with the abuse that’s become a normal part of my existence. And his perceptive gaze lays bare all of my secrets. It strikes me to my core. Someone knows the depth of my scars, and he wants to know what helps me deal with them.

My teeth chatter as I struggle to reply. “W-w-wat-ter.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Suddenly, I’m being lifted in his arms as if I’m just a child. I wrap my own arms around his neck, burying my face in his skin. There’s that scent, the

same woodsy pine scent I woke up to. I breathe it in, my tears soaking his t-shirt as he carries me through the house.

I keep my eyes closed and my face against the warmth of his skin, focusing on his scent because somehow it helps with the panic. So I only realize we’re in the bathroom when I hear the snick of a shower curtain being opened. Then Ridge sets me down on my feet on a soft rug.

But I can’t step away.

The thought of moving away from him sends another rush of panic through me, so I cling tighter. I don’t even know quite why, but he’s become my anchor in this storm, and I’m certain that if I lose my hold on him, I’ll drown.

Ridge doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t mock me for my weakness or leave me to face the demons howling in my head on my own. Instead, he wraps an arm around my waist to hold me in place as he leans forward and turns on the water.

I know I’m going to have to let him go to get beneath the water. As he stands there testing the warmth of it with one hand, I brace myself for the impossible prospect of standing on my own.

But then his other arm comes around my waist, and I’m being lifted into the bathtub. Only… Ridge comes with me.

He managed to kick off his boots, I realize, without me even noticing. He sets me gently down on top of his bare feet, holding me tight to his body. We’re both still fully clothed as the water cascades over us, and I don’t loosen my grip on his neck.

Standing with him like this, I realize just how big he is compared to me. I’m leaning against him, my cheek resting against his broad chest. He drops his head so that his beard tickles my forehead, and his hands smooth gently over the back of my wet t-shirt, keeping me on my feet.

After a few moments, the panic begins to subside. Quicker than usual, even. Back home, in the aftermath of Clint’s rage, I’d stand beneath the water for an hour, until all the warmth was gone and only cold remained, and still feel the effects of my panic attack.

But here, clinging to this stranger who smells like the mountains, this stranger who wants to help me, I find what might be the last scrap of peace inside myself.

My mind goes blank, and I just let the water fall around me, listening to the sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear.

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