Chapter 4

C hase

Chase stood motionless, his dark eyes fixed on the small human figure before him. The forest around them faded into insignificance, every sense he possessed zeroed in on her. Betsy was Francine's granddaughter. Now it made perfect sense. The forest would want her to take over from her grandmother. She was no longer the stranger who had disrupted the careful balance of his world. Betsy was the woman who, impossibly, carried the scent of his mate.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, too quiet for human ears to detect. Chase's mind raced, grappling with the implications of what his instincts were telling him. It couldn't be. Generations of Sasquatch lore, passed down through whispered tales in hidden groves, spoke of the rarity of finding one's true mate. When such a bond occurred, it was always between their own kind. Always.

And yet...

He inhaled deeply, allowing her scent to flood his senses. Beneath the lingering traces of artificial products—remnants of her human world—lay something primal. Something that called to the very core of his being. Notes of herbs and wildflowers, reminiscent of Francine but uniquely Betsy's, entwined with a musk that spoke of fertility and strength. But underlying it all was a scent he'd only heard described in the oldest of their stories. The unmistakable aroma of the female who was fated to be his mate.

As the realization hit him, Chase felt a surge of emotion so powerful it seemed to ripple through the very forest around them. The trees swayed gently, their leaves rustling in a sudden, inexplicable breeze. Flowers that had been tightly closed began to bloom, their petals unfurling as if awakening from a long slumber. Even the air itself seemed to shimmer with an invisible energy, responding to the turmoil of Chase's emotions.

Chase's massive frame trembled with the effort of restraining himself. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to claim her, to sweep her into his arms and carry her deep into the forest where no other could ever threaten their bond. His hands, capable of uprooting trees, clenched into fists at his sides. No. He was more than just instinct. He was the guardian of this forest, protector of the delicate balance between the seen and unseen worlds. He would not be ruled by mere biology.

When he stared into Betsy's wide, green eyes, Chase felt something within him shift. The weight of centuries lifted from his broad shoulders, replaced by a new purpose. Protecting the forest had been his duty, his entire reason for being, for longer than he cared to remember. But now, looking at this small, fragile human who smelled of home and belonging, he realized his true role had only just begun.

"This cannot be," he rumbled, his voice rough from disuse. Speaking the human tongue felt strange after so long communicating only with the whispers of wind through leaves and the subtle songs of the earth. "You are human. I am a sasquatch."

Betsy's eyes widened further, if that was possible. Her mouth opened and closed, no sound emerging. Under different circumstances, Chase might have found her fish-like gaping amusing. Now, it only served to emphasize the vast gulf between their worlds.

He took a step closer, nostrils flaring as he drank in more of her intoxicating scent. "Do you know what you are to me, little one?" he asked, his tone softer now but no less intense. "Can your human mind comprehend the bond that fate has woven between us?"

Chase watched as a myriad of emotions played across Betsy's expressive face. Fear, confusion, and something else. Something that made his pulse quicken and his skin prickle with awareness. Could she feel it too? This inexorable pull between them?

He shook his massive head, dislodging the hopeful thought. It didn't matter if she felt it. The fact remained that she was human, and he was not. He was a creature of legend, a protector of ancient magics. His life was one of solitude and duty. To bring her into his world would be to expose her to dangers she couldn't begin to imagine.

And yet...

The thought of sending her away, of never again catching her scent on the breeze or hearing her heartbeat quicken at his approach, sent a lance of pain through his chest so acute it nearly brought him to his knees.

"I cannot have you," Chase growled, more to himself than to Betsy. "It makes no sense."

He forced himself to take a step back. Distance. He needed distance to think clearly, to do what must be done. But even that single step felt like tearing away a part of himself.

"Lot's of things don't make sense," she said shakily. She reached a trembling hand out to touch him. He would give everything to feel her hand on him, and yet he refused to step forward into her caress.

"Fate has played a cruel trick on us both," Chase continued, his voice a low rumble. "It has bound us together in a way that defies all I have ever known. You are... you are my mate." The word sent a shiver through him, equal parts longing and dread. "But I will not force this upon you. I cannot." He met her gaze, willing her to understand. "If you wish to leave, to return to your world of metal and noise, you must do so now. Run from this place and never return. Forget what you have seen, what you have felt. Live your human life and find happiness among your own kind."

The words tasted like ashes in his mouth, each one a betrayal of the primal need roaring within him. But he forced them out, clinging to the last shreds of his self-control.

"But know this," Chase added, unable to keep a note of possessive growl from his voice. "If you stay, if you choose to accept what fate has decreed, there will be no going back. You will be mine, as I will be yours, until the last tree in this forest crumbles to dust."

He fell silent then, every muscle in his powerful body coiled tight as a spring. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, awaiting Betsy's decision. Chase's keen ears could pick up the rapid flutter of her heartbeat, the quick, shallow rhythm of her breathing. He could smell the cocktail of hormones flooding her system—fear, excitement, and something headier that made his nostrils flare and his body respond in kind.

For a moment that stretched into eternity, neither of them moved. Chase watched Betsy intently, searching for any sign of her intention. Would she run? The thought sent a spike of panic through him. He knew that if she fled, he would let her go. It would destroy him, would leave him a hollow shell of himself, but he would respect her choice. The alternative—forcing her to stay, trapping her in a world she didn't understand or desire—was unthinkable.

But Betsy didn't run. She stood her ground, her gaze never leaving his. And in her eyes, Chase saw not fear or revulsion, but a spark of the same primal recognition that had rocked him to his core.

Something within him snapped.

With a growl that shook the leaves from nearby trees, Chase closed the distance between them in two long strides. He swept Betsy into his arms, marveling at how small, how delicate she felt against his massive frame. Her scent enveloped him, drowning out all other sensory input. Nothing else mattered. Not the forest, not his duty, not the vast differences between their worlds. There was only Betsy, his mate, finally where she belonged.

"Mine," he rumbled, the word more vibration than sound.

Without further hesitation, Chase slung Betsy over his shoulder, one massive hand splayed across her back to hold her securely. He felt her gasp, felt the rapid rise and fall of her chest against him, and had to suppress a shudder of pure want.

Then he was moving, racing through the forest with inhuman speed and agility. Trees blurred past as he navigated paths no human eye could discern. He leapt over fallen logs and streams with ease, his footfalls nearly silent despite his size and the precious cargo he carried.

As he ran, Chase's mind whirled with the implications of what had just occurred. He had found his mate—an impossible, wonderful, terrifying reality. Everything would change now. His solitary existence, his singular focus on protecting the forest... all of it would need to shift to accommodate this new central point in his universe.

And Betsy... sweet, fragile, human Betsy. How would she adapt to his world? Could she truly be happy here, away from all she had ever known? The protective instinct that had served him so well as guardian of the forest now focused with laser intensity on the woman in his arms. He would keep her safe, would shield her from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of his realm. Nothing would harm her. Nothing would take her from him.

The journey to his den, a trip that would have taken hours for a human, passed in mere minutes. Chase slowed as he approached the hidden entrance, carefully ducking to ensure Betsy wouldn't be jostled against the low-hanging branches that concealed the opening.

Inside, the den opened up into a surprisingly large cavern. Soft moss carpeted the floor, and strategically placed crystals caught and reflected what little light filtered through the camouflaged entrance. It was sparse by human standards, but it was home. And now, it would be their home.

Gently, reverently, Chase lowered Betsy to her feet. He kept his hands on her shoulders, partly to steady her and partly because he couldn't bear to break physical contact. Now that he had held her, had breathed in her scent up close, the thought of separation was physically painful.

"Betsy," he said softly, her name a caress on his tongue. "My mate. My heart. Welcome home."

He gazed down at her, drinking in every detail of her face. Her flushed cheeks, her wide eyes, the slight part of her lips as she caught her breath. She was beautiful in a way he had never fully appreciated before. Not delicate like a flower or graceful like a deer, but vibrant and alive and perfectly, wonderfully human.

He paused, a flicker of uncertainty passing through him. "If... if that is what you want. You have not spoken, have not truly given your consent. If you wish to leave, even now, I... I will find a way to let you go."

The words tore at him, ripped at his very soul. But he had to offer, had to give her this final chance to escape the wild, primal life that awaited her if she stayed. It was the right thing to do, no matter how much it pained him.

Chase held his breath, awaiting Betsy's response. In this moment, balanced on the knife's edge between ecstasy and despair, he had never felt more vulnerable. He, who had faced down packs of wolves and stood firm against the encroachment of human development, now trembled at the prospect of this tiny woman's next words.

"How is that going to fit?" she asked, reaching her hand around his wide cock.