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She scoffs. Damn, she may have a cute ass and a fine rack, but she does not like compliments.
“So what about you, Rosie? You have a man back home? I’m guessing not since you were on that cave excursion all alone in paradise.”
She shakes her head. “I’m still waiting for my Prince Charming.” She gives me a smile that falters almost immediately. “Just never met him yet and now… now I’m not sure I ever will.”
I grunt, annoyed that she’s looking straight through me. “Right, you want a prince. But it’s the beast who saved your life today.”
I stand, irritated, and walk to the bushes to take a piss. Wishing I had some whisky to take the edge off. Haven’t spoken to a goddamn human in six years and I can’t seem to make her understand that we’re all we’ve got now.
“Time for bed, don’t want to wait for the bugs out here to bite.” I take the leftover meat off the grill and wrap it in a palm leaf, then head to the cave. “You coming?” I ask.
“Yeah, just a sec, sorry.” She stands, wringing her hands before following me into the cave.
I roll the stone over the entrance. “You get the sleeping bag,” I tell her. “I’ll use an extra pelt.” I grab one from the corner and watch as she gingerly gets on the ground, under the sleeping bag. The ground is hard, but I have some grass under it to try and make it more comfortable. I wish I knew what to say to her, but I don’t. And I know my attitude ruined the campfire conversation.
Didn’t really matter when it was just me out here, but I can tell she is used to more creature comforts and maybe making a bed off the ground would be nicer.
I’m about to tell her that when she starts her crying again.
I’ve never comforted a woman like this and I don’t know how. What am I supposed to say? It’ll get better? It probably won’t. It will be easier? I know it won’t. There is nothing I can think to tell her to make this less horrible.
So I say nothing at all.
And I feel like an ass, but the thing on my mind as I fall asleep is that even though she’s crying, hating what has happened to her – I’m glad she is here.
Because I’m so damn tired of living all alone. And she is the answer to all of my prayers. Trouble is, she thinks the exact opposite.
In the morning I wake early, as usual, and look over at Rosalie, who is still out cold. My cock is fucking hard at the sight of her, all tangled up in the animal furs. The tee shirt has ridden up her leg, exposing her creamy thigh, and my morning wood is stiff as hell.
I groan, wanting to temper the beast. But it’s near impossible with her nipples hard, poking through her clothes, and her long blonde hair wavy and loose around her shoulders.
I got to look away.
I stand, rolling away the rock and taking in the morning. It’s the best time of day here in the jungle, the leaves dewy and the sky pink.
This morning, however, offers a slightly different view.
Motherfucker.
The saber-tooth’s buddy has been lured by the blood. He snarls at me, standing next to my firepit, and I reach for my gun, startling Rosalie as I do. But the gun’s not here. Fuck. I must have left it in the A-frame when I got back yesterday, then forgot to bring it in the cave after my bad attitude last night.
“Oh my God!” she screams, and I reach for the knife in my pocket.
I widen my stance, stepping toward the tiger, looking at the A-frame, trying to judge how long it will take to grab my gun.
I make a leap for it, knowing I must. The tiger leaps, too. My fingers grip the cold metal just as the tiger’s paw runs across my calf, and I fall back, my hand hitting a rock. I see stars but can’t pass out right now. I need to protect my woman.
“Fuck,” I scream, my leg on fire, before pulling the trigger and taking the tiger out. Been here six years and never shot this thing, now Rosalie is here less than twenty-four hours and I’ve shot it twice.
The tiger falls, shot between its eyes, and I growl, angry at what’s transpired. How the fuck can I keep my woman safe when there are beasts out here like this, ready to pounce?
Rosalie is running toward me. “Oh my God,” she sobs. “Rock, look at you.” She gasps, taking in my leg wound.
Blood everywhere, another fucking tiger at my feet.
But all I’m thinking is there’s no need to look at me – it’s her that’s got me transfixed.
