Chapter Four

The Hunter and the Hunted

His heart flew into his throat. Before he could stop himself, he rushed toward her, dropping to his knees next to her. She lay on her side, her eyes fluttering feebly. Still conscious. Lance breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, hell,” he said. “Fine. I will help you.”

He hated to utter the words, but the mere sight of this woman lying in the snow gripped his chest with guilt. He couldn’t just leave her like this, could he? She’d almost died, most likely more than once now.

She stared at him for a moment and, with a grunt, propped herself up on one elbow. “You…you will?”

“Against my better judgment. My cabin is farther up on the mountain. If we can make it there, you should be safe from Boris, at least for a while. But we’ll need to move quickly and carefully.”

The woman nodded, her beautiful black eyes blinking at him. Her red hair was covered with snow, and stray strands scattered across her face. “Thank you.”

Pretty as she was, she was a terrible sight. She needed more warmth and plenty of rest. In their current situation, he doubted that would be so easy.

Lance pressed his lips together. He was still disgruntled about losing his fish, but now he had a new problem before him. “If we follow the river, we could get to the cabin in a few days.”

“Oh, thank goodness—”

“But we won’t be following the river.”

She sat up, and he helped her to her feet, her hand small in his palm. “Why not?”

“Because if we do, we’ll be discovered easily.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re a target. If we want to lose Boris, we will have to go on a roundabout journey through the woods, maybe even downhill. That will take much longer—days, weeks…”

“We’d reach the cabin by Christmas,” she breathed.

She shuddered again, rubbing her arms, and he felt a wave of pity. The coat was damp and heavy. She would have to manage it until they got someplace warmer.

Lance stifled a groan. How had he given in to her request so quickly? He couldn’t afford to forget what had happened the last time he’d offered help to a fae. Not now. So why the hell had he agreed to help this woman?

He rubbed his forearm, touching his scar through his sleeve, a series of thoughts creeping into his mind as he stared at the woman.

One: Giving in to her request had certainly been a choice. He wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing by agreeing to help her or if he’d just set himself up, but he was going to find out soon enough. All he wanted for Christmas was quiet, some alone time, and his fish, but ever since he laid eyes on this fae woman, things had gone awry. What were the odds that she wouldn’t get him in trouble?

Two: She was quite beautiful. It was hard to tear his gaze away from her.

Three: She might not be from Frost Mountain, but she was still a fae. In Lance’s experience, that meant danger. Just how long would it be before he lost himself trying to protect someone who just might abandon him when he was in trouble?

Four: The last thing he needed this Christmas was a blade to the heart, courtesy of Boris the Fae Hunter. Like many on Frost Mountain, he knew the man. But few had seen him and lived to tell the tale. Boris clearly had some kind of grudge against the fae, and Lance didn’t know why, but he certainly could relate. He had his grievances, too. The only difference was that he’d spent the last couple of years avoiding their kind, not hunting them down.

Maybe he should avoid this woman now while he still could. He could leave her here and go back home before Boris returned. But even as the thought filled his mind, his conscience pricked him.

“I’m Mallory,” the woman said. “Mallory Teaks.”

“Lance Wilson,” he replied. “Are you hurt?”

She nodded, examining her body. “I’ve got a few cuts and bruises, and I feel like I could nap for a month, not to mention I’m a hair’s breadth away from hypothermia. Hopefully, I’ll be back to normal in a week or two.”

Lance briefly considered asking her how she was so certain about that but refrained from doing so. “We need to move now. If we keep close to the trees, we should stay hidden for a while.”

Glancing around one more time to make sure Boris wasn’t still in the area, they crossed the river with Lance’s help, heading for the nearest woods and climbing the mountain under the cover of the trees and snow. As they trudged, Mallory groaning with the effort, Lance continued to scout the area for any potential danger, a final thought settling in his mind.

Five: The Fae Hunter might be excellent at tracking, but Lance was no novice when it came to covering his tracks. In a way, he was a hunter, too. But there was one big difference between himself and Boris: He hunted fish; Boris hunted fae.

Right now, though, Lance didn’t see himself as much of a hunter. As long as he was with Mallory, he was going to be hunted.