Mated to the Cold-Blooded Beast

Chapter 6

Grace Russel had promised herself she wouldn’t arrive in Longtooth like some fragile outsider, wide-eyed and unprepared for the wilderness. She had survived brutal winters before. She knew how to drive on ice without panicking, how to keep her breath steady when a deer darted across the road, and how to recognize the subtle dangers of small, close-knit communities where everyone knew your business before you even knew it yourself. She’d grown up in a rural town, after all. She wasn’t naive.

And yet—city life had softened her, just a little. She had forgotten the luxuries she’d once taken for granted. The first morning, she’d cursed her old GMC Jimmy for not having remote start as her teeth chattered on the drive to school. The lack of espresso in town had left her stunned and grumpy, forcing her to substitute three cups of black coffee for her usual macchiato. Even worse, the logistical nightmare of shipping over a hundred books to Alaska had blindsided her completely.

Still, she had managed to keep her small failures to herself. She had to prove she could make it here, even if her stubborn pride sometimes made things harder than they needed to be.

That was why she’d found herself knocking on Margaret Huditiltik’s office door, cheeks warm as she confessed that she needed over a hundred books shipped from Anchorage.

Margaret hadn’t scolded her. She had smiled instead, her kind eyes full of an approval Grace hadn’t expected. “The kids are enjoying your classes, Grace. You’re doing a good job,” she said. Then, without hesitation, she’d told her the school would cover the expense and arranged for her to travel to Anchorage with Kaleb.

Kaleb.

Grace had forced a polite smile, though her stomach had dipped unpleasantly. The man radiated dislike every time she was near him. Silent, watchful, brooding—he had a way of making her feel small without ever saying a word.

Later that day, lingering outside Margaret’s office, Grace overheard the conversation that would unsettle her for the rest of the night.

“Listen to me, pup, because this is an order—you are escorting Grace Russel to Anchorage tomorrow.”

Margaret’s voice was firm, edged with steel. Kaleb’s silence stretched in Grace’s imagination, but she didn’t need to hear his words to know he wasn’t pleased. He didn’t want her here. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, he considered her a problem.

When Margaret added, “And you will treat her with respect. Consider her my ward,” Grace’s breath caught. Something unspoken hung in those words, something that prickled down her spine.

That night, as she packed her bag for the trip, she tried not to think about Caleb’s scowl or the strange reverence in Margaret’s tone. She tried not to wonder what Kaleb saw in her that made him bristle every time she walked into a room.

By dawn, she was standing beside him in the dark cold of the airstrip, watching his broad shoulders move beneath his heavy coat as he inspected the yellow plane. Grace pulled her fleece higher over her face, shivering despite her determination not to let him see her weakness.

When she climbed into the passenger seat, she caught sight of glowing eyes at the tree line. Her heart leapt into her throat. Wolves. Enormous wolves, their hulking shapes shifting in the shadows. She choked out Kaleb’s name, pointing with a trembling hand.

He glanced, his eyes unreadable, then climbed into the cockpit without so much as a flinch. No alarm. No surprise. Just a blank, unbothered expression as if the predators didn’t exist. Grace pressed back into her seat, unsettled by his calmness.

The plane lifted off the gravel strip, and soon the world fell away beneath them. Mountains crowned with ice, rivers winding silver through endless trees—the beauty stole her breath, even as fear kept her shoulders tight. When she dared a glance at Kaleb, his profile was etched in shadow and light, strong and unmoving. His presence steadied her more than she wanted to admit.

He didn’t speak to her the entire flight. Not one word.

By the time they landed in Anchorage, Grace’s nerves were frayed. She offered to take a separate ride to the bookstores, but Kaleb’s hand suddenly covered hers, stopping her from tapping her phone. His palm was hot against her chilled skin, his fingers large enough to span her entire hand. She startled, her heart leaping at the contact. He plucked the phone from her grip with ease, tossed it back to her, and said flatly, “I’ll drive.”

She wanted to argue, but something in his tone silenced her.

The bookstores became a strange battlefield between them. Grace hunted for her titles, stacking books in neat towers, while Kaleb lingered in silence. At one point she caught him in the History section, engrossed in a book about Genghis Khan, his massive frame bent over the fragile pages. The sight of him—wild, rugged, utterly absorbed in something scholarly—struck her with unexpected force. Heat pooled low in her belly, and she fled before he could notice her staring.

When he returned, he gathered her stacks of books without a word, his strength casual, effortless. She wanted to snap at him, to demand why he insisted on helping when he clearly despised her. But when his jacket shifted and she glimpsed the outline of a paper bag, curiosity broke through her irritation. He’d bought a book.

Later, in the truck, she teased him about it, daring to poke at the rectangle hidden inside his coat. Her hand brushed his chest, her knuckles pressing against his solid warmth. In a blink, his fingers closed around her wrist, trapping her. The heat of him bled into her skin, and for a heartbeat too long their eyes locked. Something flickered in his dark gaze—something fierce, something golden. Grace’s breath caught as the world narrowed to that single moment, to the wild pulse of her wrist in his hand.

Then his voice, rough and cutting, broke the spell. “You came for the Alaskan adventure, right? You need to f**k a local before you go back to your real life?”

The words hit like a slap. She jerked away, shame and anger flooding her chest. Tears burned at her eyes, and she hated herself for letting him see her crack.

“I don’t understand why you’re such a bastard to me,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

Kaleb stared at her, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between anger and something else she couldn’t name. “Why’d you come to Longtooth?” he demanded. “Tell me the truth.”

His mocking guesses scraped her raw until the truth burst out of her, trembling and fierce.

“I wanted to get as far away as possible from my stalker ex-boyfriend,” she spat, her voice cracking. “He broke restraining orders. The police couldn’t stop him. I didn’t come here for some fantasy adventure—I came here to survive.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Kaleb’s mouth closed around the sharp retort he’d been ready to deliver. His frown softened, just barely, and for the first time, Grace thought she saw something like understanding in his eyes.

But it was fleeting—like sunlight breaking through clouds for only a second before the storm returned.