Growling For Mine (Grayslake: More Than Mated)(3)

My eyes fly open in panic, and I’m looking up at a wooden ceiling. The room is lit by a small fire in the fireplace. I lick my dry lips and try to remember how I got here. There was a man. A giant man. He pulled me from the car and carried me here.

I wiggle, freeing my arms, and that’s when I notice I’m naked. Sitting up, I take a better look around the room. Everything is wooden: the walls, ceiling, and floor. The walls look like they’re made out of wooden logs. It’s rustic. Even the giant bed I’m in looks like someone hand-carved it.

Getting up from the bed, I wrap a blanket around myself. My knees almost give out, but I catch myself on the end of the nightstand. I hear a loud crash from somewhere in the cabin, then I hear what sounds like a freight train heading towards me.

The door bursts open, and the biggest man I’ve ever seen in my life is standing in the doorway with a look of panic on his face. I feel like I should be the one with that look. In three long steps he’s in front of me, picking me up. I squeak as he puts me back down on the bed.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” His voice is deep and gruff, and I know I’ve heard it before. He must have talked to me. I can remember dipping in and out, and each time I’d hear his voice whispering to me. His hand brushing my face. “I’ll keep you safe. Nothing will hurt you when I have you,” he’d said. And I believed him.

He starts running his hands over me like he’s checking me to make sure I’m uninjured. He pulls part of the blanket off me, and I should protest because I’m naked, but all I can do is stare at him.

His hair is a dark chocolate brown and looks like it might be due for a trim. Or maybe he’s just been running his hands through it a lot, making it look messy. Even on his knees next to the bed as I sit on the side, he’s still taller than me. Wow. This guy is freaking ginormous.

One of his hands brushes my hip, and it’s so soft it makes me giggle. His eyes shoot up to mine and he just stares, eyes locked on mine. His eyes are just as richly brown as his hair, but a thin gold circle runs around his pupil. Then his eyes drop to my mouth. His attention there makes me lick my lips, and a sound comes from deep in his chest.

The hand on my hip digs in a little.

“I’m Lola,” I finally say.

He nods like he already knows that, and his eyes drop down further. The blanket is pooled at my waist. This time he licks his lips when his eyes land on my breasts.

I should cover myself, but he’s already seen it. He’s the one who pulled off my soaked clothes, I’m guessing.

“You already know that?” I ask, breaking him from his boob-trance. He jumps up, turns, and heads for a dresser. He pulls out a shirt and throws it to me.

“It was on your driver’s license, which I have confiscated,” he informs me, his back turned to give me privacy to slip the shirt on. I go to stand, and he turns, rushing back to me, gripping me by the hips.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he says again. It’s clear he doesn’t want me out of this bed.

“Bathroom?”

He nods and carries me into the bathroom. He flips up the toilet lid and sits me down and just stands there.

“You’re going to watch me pee?” I raise my eyebrow, and he turns around, giving me his back like that is any kind of privacy at all.

When I can tell he's not going to let me to pee alone, I get on with it. I get up to wash my hands and he comes up behind me, putting his hands on my hips like he’s holding me steady.

I look in the mirror at him, our eyes locking. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a few days. Or shaved, for that matter.

“You going to tell me your name?” I cock my head to the side.

“Bleu.” He turns me, picking me up again, but this time I wrap my legs around him. His steps falter, and that’s when I remember I don’t have any underwear on. Only his giant shirt that drops to my knees when I’m standing.

“I will feed you, then bathe you.” He says it like there’s no room for debate as he carries me through the house, sitting me in a sofa chair in what looks to be his living room. Then he heads to the kitchen and starts pulling stuff out of the refrigerator.

“Are you a cop or something?” He’s bossy enough to be one.

“No. I’m a carpenter.” He pulls some pans out of a kitchen cabinet and starts cooking. His eyes keep popping up to look at me like he thinks I’m going to make a run for it. Heck, I don’t even know where the fudge I am.

The carpenter thing makes sense, though, with all the wood around here. Almost all of the furniture looks handmade.

“You said you confiscated my driver’s license,” I remind him. That’s why I thought he was a cop. Oh, and the bossy thing.

“Yes, you clearly shouldn’t be operating a vehicle. You need to go somewhere, I’ll drive you or I’ll go get what you need.”

I just watch him, unsure what to say to that. It takes me a minute to wrap my mind around it. I pull back the curtain I’m sitting next to and see everything is covered in snow. And by the looks of it, it’s still coming down hard. How long have I even been here? It’s clear I can’t go anywhere now, and the sun looks to be setting.

“What about when it’s time for me to go?”

A deep growl comes from the kitchen, making me look that way. Or maybe I’m not going anywhere after all.