ADRIAN
Iwatch as Marcus leads Kieran’s guest outside to take her and her palomino to our stables.
“Maybe she shouldn’t be here,” I say softly once she’s out of earshot. “What if I lose control over my bear again?”
Ever since Sylvie’s death, my bear makes it dangerous for me to feel too much in public, taking the forefront of my psyche. Claws burst out of my fingers. Thick, white tufts of fur grow on my chest. My ears shift, or my tail pops out.
“What if I hurt her?” I add, lost in thoughts of the worst-case scenario.
Kieran’s hand on my shoulder wakes me from my reverie. “You won’t hurt Goldie, Adrian.” His brown eyes are full of understanding.
“Still,” I sigh. “I probably shouldn’t touch her.”
My brother’s lips curl into a wicked grin. “But you want to touch her, don’t you?”
I feel my cheeks glow. Great, now I’m blushing like some kind of fairytale princess.
“She’s…” I begin, then shake my head. “No,” I add, unconvincingly.
“Riiiight,” Kieran drawls. “You didn’t notice her perfectly rosy skin. Her plush lips. Her juicy, round?—”
“Alright, alright!” I interrupt him. My cock is starting to tent my jeans—I can’t be thinking of her juicy, round anything. “Yes, the human is beautiful.”
Kieran wags his eyebrows. “Beautiful damsels in distress are your weakness.”
My breath catches in my throat. “What kind of distress?” I remember him saying she’s running from someone. “Who hurt her?”
My brother sobers quickly. “She said he was supposed to be her husband. She didn’t get to tell me more before Marcus lumbered in.”
I gnash my teeth together. “Well, they’re coming back now. You fed her, and her horse is stabled. It’s time for her to tell us what’s going on.”
Marcus and Goldie’s footsteps grow louder as they approach, though hers are whisper-soft. We need to get the female some shoes before the soles of her feet get cut on the underbrush.
“Let’s sit at the dining table,” Marcus suggests as soon as they return. He holds Goldie’s chair out like the gentleman he truly is underneath that gruffness.
“You said you were running from your future husband?” Kieran prompts when Goldie just stares at her hands. “What drove you into the forest in a torn dress with no supplies?”
Goldie takes a deep breath before launching into her story.
“It’s a man my parents picked out for me. He has the right pedigree, the right connections. They didn’t care that we’d hardly ever spoken before the engagement, or that I didn’t want a marriage of convenience.”
She takes a break, chewing on her bottom lip, obviously trying to figure out how to continue.
“That looks like a bruise on your arm,” Marcus growls, drawing all of our attention to the faint smudge on her otherwise perfect skin. An answering growl claws its way up my throat, and I can feel my bear trying to wrest control away from me, punish whoever hurt this sweet woman. Like Sylvie was hurt.
Goldie covers the mark with her other hand like she can hide it from us. “He just grabbed my arm this morning when I said I hate the dress and want to wear something else.”
She looks me in the eye, almost as if she knows I’m barely containing the violence brewing inside me. Not aimed at her, no, never that. But at anyone who laid a finger on her against her wishes.
“It was the only time he got physical like that,” she assures me. “But I knew in that moment that he would only escalate. He was charming at first, if you can believe it.”
“They usually are,” Marcus mutters.
“Yeah. He was all smiles and honeyed words, sympathizing with me over our arranged marriage.” Goldie’s beautiful blue eyes go flat. “But then I saw the real him slipping through the cracks. The emptiness in his gaze, the smiles that were just a bit too tight. The offhand misogynistic comments.”
“So you took your horse and escaped?” Kieran asks. His fists are clenched on the table.
“That’s right,” Goldie says with a brave smile. “I ran to the stables, got Bonnie saddled, and we galloped away. It was good timing, too. The asshole pulled a gun on us. I don’t know what he’d have done if Father hadn’t yelled at him to put it away.”
