Chapter 6

B etsy

Betsy rested on the comfortable bed and looked around Chase's cozy den. For being inside a cave, it was remarkably modern, albeit oversized. Her body hummed with a satisfaction so deep it bordered on the ridiculous. Every muscle felt like it had been replaced with warm honey, and her skin tingled pleasantly where it pressed against Chase's fur.

"Well," she thought, staring up at the crystalline ceiling of Chase's den, "that's one way to get your cardio in."

The absurdity of her situation hit her like a ton of bricks wrapped in velvet. Here she was, naked as the day she was born, cuddled up to a creature that was supposed to exist only in blurry photographs and campfire stories. She'd just had the most mind-blowing sex of her life with a sasquatch.

A sasquatch.

A giggle bubbled up in her throat, threatening to erupt into full-blown hysterical laughter. Betsy bit her lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. After all, it wouldn't do to hurt the feelings of the eight-foot-tall monster currently using her as a tiny, human-shaped teddy bear.

Chase stirred beside her, his massive arm tightening around her waist. "What amuses you, little one?" he rumbled, his voice vibrating through her entire body.

Betsy turned to look at him, taking in the wild tangle of his fur, the intelligent gleam in his dark eyes. How did one even begin to explain the sheer insanity of this situation?

"Oh, you know," she said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere in the vicinity of mildly unhinged, "just thinking about how I'm going to update my dating profile. 'Likes long walks in the forest, herbal tea, and getting freaky with mythical creatures.' That should get me some interesting matches."

Chase's brow furrowed in confusion. "Dating... profile?"

And just like that, reality came crashing back in. Betsy sat up, suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness and the vast gulf of understanding between them. She was in way, way over her head.

"Okay, big guy," she said, running a hand through her tangled hair. "I think it's time we had a little chat. You know, the kind that usually happens before the earth-shattering, possibly life-altering sex?"

Chase sat up as well, his massive form dwarfing her. He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The tender gesture made Betsy's heart do a little flip, which only added to her growing sense of panic.

"What do you wish to know?" he asked, his tone serious.

Betsy laughed, a slightly manic edge to the sound. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe we could start with the basics? Like, what's your favorite color? Do you prefer smooth or crunchy peanut butter? Oh, and tiny detail—what the heck does being your 'mate' actually mean?"

Chase's expression remained impassive, but Betsy could swear she saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Green," he said solemnly. "I do not know what peanut butter is. And being my mate means we are bonded for life, two halves of a whole, united in body and spirit for all eternity."

Betsy blinked. "Right. So, no pressure or anything."

She stood up, pacing the small confines of the den. Her mind raced, trying to process the magnitude of what had just happened. She'd come to the forest to become an herbalist, to follow in her grandmother's footsteps. Nowhere in that plan had there been a footnote about shacking up with Sasquatch.

"Chase," she said, turning to face him. "I need you to understand something. Where I come from, people don't just meet and instantly become 'bonded for life.' We have this whole process. We go on dates, we get to know each other. We argue about whose turn it is to do the dishes and whether pineapple belongs on pizza."

Chase tilted his head, a gesture so adorably confused that Betsy just wanted to snuggle back in his arms. "You wish to... date?" he asked, the word sounding foreign on his tongue.

"Yes! No. I don't know!" Betsy threw her hands up in exasperation. "I just... I need to know more about you. About this whole situation. I mean, are there more of you out there? Is there a whole secret Sasquatch society I don't know about?"

Chase's expression closed off, his jaw setting in a stubborn line. "I cannot speak of my kind to outsiders," he said firmly.

Betsy felt a flare of irritation. "Outsiders? In case you missed it, big guy, we just did the horizontal tango. I think we're a little past 'outsider' status, don't you?"

She could see Chase struggling to find the right words, his brow furrowed in concentration. "It is complicated," he finally said.

Betsy snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. Look, how about we start with something simpler? Tell me about you. What do you do all day when you're not sweeping unsuspecting women off their feet and into your love den?"

Chase seemed to relax slightly at this line of questioning. "I protect the forest," he said, a note of pride in his deep voice. "I ensure the balance is maintained, that the old magics are respected."

"Old magics, huh?" Betsy mused, settling back down beside him. "Is that what you call this irresistible animal magnetism of yours?"

The joke seemed to fly right over Chase's head. He nodded solemnly. "The forest is alive in ways humans have forgotten. It speaks, it breathes, it dreams. My duty is to listen, to understand, to guard."

Betsy felt a pang of respect and a twinge of inadequacy. Here she was, fumbling around trying to identify plants without poisoning herself, while Chase was communing with nature on a level she could barely comprehend.

"Wow," she said softly. "That's actually pretty amazing. But Chase, you have to see how wild this all is from my perspective, right? A week ago, my biggest worry was whether I'd packed enough socks for my new forest adventure. Now I'm apparently mated to the guardian of an ancient, magical forest. It's a lot to take in."

Chase reached out, cupping her face in his massive hand. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down Betsy's spine. "I understand this is strange for you," he said. "But you must feel the bond between us. It is rare, precious. A gift from the forest itself."

Betsy leaned into his touch, her resolve wavering. She did feel something, a connection that went beyond the physical. But was it this mystical mate bond, or just really, really good sex?

"Okay, let's say I buy into this whole 'fated mates' thing," she said. "What does that actually mean for us? For our lives?"

Chase's expression grew serious again. "It means we are one," he said. "Your life is my life; your joys, my joys; your sorrows, my sorrows. We belong to each other and to the forest. You will remain here with me and never leave again."

Betsy's eyes widened. "Whoa there, big fella. Slow down. I hate to break it to you, but I'm going to need to go back to the city to make supply runs. Unless you've got a secret Sasquatch Starbucks hidden in these woods?"

The confusion on Chase's face would have been comical if the situation wasn't so serious. "Why would you need to leave?" he asked. "The forest provides all we need."

Betsy couldn't help it. She laughed. "Oh, honey. The forest is great and all, but it doesn't provide Wi-Fi. Or toilet paper. Or chocolate. You know what? I think it's time for a crash course in modern human life."

She stood up, striking a pose like a university lecturer. "All right, class is in session. Today's topic: The Wonders of the 21st Century, or Why Humans Can't Live on Berries and Good Vibes Alone."

Chase sat up straighter, his expression a mixture of bemusement and curiosity. Betsy took this as encouragement to continue.

"Let's start with something simple. Social media. Imagine you could talk to all your forest friends at once, without having to howl really loud. That's Facebook. Or maybe you want to show off your latest acorn collection. Boom, Instagram."

Chase's brow furrowed deeper with each explanation. "But why?" he asked.

Betsy waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, trust me, half the time we don't know either. But that's not the point. The point is that humans are connected. We share, we communicate, we order pizza at 2 a.m. because we saw a mouthwatering photo on our phones."

She could see Chase struggling to wrap his mind around these concepts.

"Okay, let's try something else," Betsy said. "Online dating. It's like how animals find mates by scent, but instead of sniffing butts, we swipe right or left on pictures."

Chase's eyes widened in horror. "You choose mates based on pictures?"

Betsy couldn't help but laugh at his scandalized expression. "Well, not exactly. It's more like window shopping for potential partners. You chat, you meet up, you see if there's a spark. Sometimes it works out, sometimes you end up with a funny story about the guy who brought his pet ferret to dinner."

She could practically see the gears turning in Chase's head as he tried to process this information. His next question, however, caught her off guard.

"And this is how you would have chosen a mate, if not for our bond?"

The vulnerability in his voice made Betsy's heart clench. She sat back down beside him, taking one of his massive hands in both of hers.

"Chase, honey, no. That's not... I mean, yes, that's how a lot of people meet these days. But what we have? This crazy, impossible connection? That's not something you find on Tinder."

The relief on his face was palpable, and Betsy felt a surge of affection for this strange, wonderful creature. But it also brought her crashing back to the reality of their situation.

"But Chase," she said softly, "you have to understand. I can't just disappear into the forest. I have a life out there. Friends, family, a budding herbal business that's probably going to tank if I don't actually learn to identify plants correctly."

Chase's expression darkened. "You cannot leave the forest," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "It is not safe. The outside world does not understand our ways. It would seek to destroy what we have, what we are."

Betsy felt a flare of frustration. "So, I'm supposed to just become a forest hermit? Never see another human being again? Chase, that's not fair. It's not realistic."

She could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his instincts and his desire to understand her. Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with resignation.

"Perhaps... perhaps this was a mistake."

The words hit Betsy like a physical blow. "What?"

Chase stood, his massive form seeming to fill the entire den. "You belong to the world of humans," he said. "I am a creature of myth and shadow. Our worlds... they cannot coexist."

Betsy scrambled to her feet, anger and hurt warring within her. "Now wait just a minute, Chewbacca. You don't get to decide that for both of us. We need to talk about this."

But Chase was already moving, scooping her up in his arms with effortless grace. Before Betsy could protest further, they were out of the den and moving through the forest at impossible speed.

The journey back to her grandmother's cabin passed in a blur of green and shadow. Betsy's mind raced, trying to find the words to make Chase understand, to bridge the gap between their worlds. But all too soon, they were there, the familiar sight of the cabin emerging from the trees.

Chase set her down gently on the porch, his hands lingering on her waist. For a moment, Betsy thought she saw a flicker of regret in his dark eyes. Then he was leaning down, capturing her lips in a kiss that tasted of wild honey and heartbreak.

"You will always be my mate. For the time I have left anyway."

What the hell did that mean?

When Betsy opened her eyes, he was gone, melted back into the forest as if he'd never been there at all.

"Chase," she called out, her voice echoing in the empty clearing. "Chase, you get your furry butt back here right now. We are not done talking about this."

But only the whisper of wind through leaves answered her. Betsy stood there, fists clenched at her sides, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

"Fine," she muttered, turning to stomp back into the cabin. "You want to play hard to get, Sasquatch? Game on. I didn't come to this forest to become an herbalist just to let some overgrown teddy bear with commitment issues dictate my life."

Frustrated and determined, Betsy began pacing the small confines of the cabin. Her eyes darted around, taking in the familiar yet suddenly alien surroundings. This place had been her grandmother's sanctuary, and now it was hers. But there was so much she didn't understand.

As she moved restlessly about the room, her hand brushed against an old photo frame on the mantel. It was a picture of her grandmother, standing proudly in front of the cabin. But something about the image caught Betsy's eye. In the background, barely visible among the trees, was a dark, hulking shape that looked suspiciously Sasquatch-like.

"Grandma," Betsy whispered, picking up the frame for a closer look. "What were you mixed up in?"

The photo seemed to raise more questions than answers. Had her grandmother known about Chase? About the true nature of this forest? And if she did, why hadn't she ever mentioned it?

Betsy set the photo down, her mind racing. There was clearly more going on here than a simple case of inter-species attraction. Chase had hinted at duties, at ancient magics and balance. And now this photo suggested her grandmother might have been involved in it all.

"Alright, Sasquatch," she said to the empty room. "You want to play hard to get? Fine. But I'm going to figure out what's really going on here. For both our sakes."

With renewed purpose, Betsy began formulating a plan. She'd find Chase, make him see reason, and get to the bottom of this mystery. After all, if she could survive poison ivy, wolf attacks, and mind-blowing Sasquatch sex, surely she could handle a little magical forest intrigue.

Right?

As she stood there, hands on hips, staring out the window into the deepening twilight, Betsy couldn't shake the feeling that she was on the precipice of something much bigger than she'd ever imagined. Something that went beyond her budding herbalist dreams or even her complicated relationship with Chase.

"Grandma," she murmured, "I sure hope you left me some clues. Because I have a feeling I'm going to need all the help I can get."