Grayson carried the unconscious woman in his arms, his jaw tight and his muscles wound with tension. Her head rested against his chest, her hair sticky with sweat and dirt, her ankle bleeding where the rogue had bitten her. He could still smell the beast’s stench in the air. The rogue had bolted the moment it saw him, but that didn’t matter, Grayson had seen enough.
This woman…
The same woman who had come into his hotel room.
The same woman who had climbed into his bed that night, trembling and frightened.
And now here she was again, unconscious, bleeding, and alone in the woods.
His grip tightened around her as he pushed through the trees and headed straight for his private cabin. When he reached the door, he kicked it open and carried her inside, lowering her carefully onto his bed.
