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They both stay frozen for a moment before Darren shakes his head vehemently.

'No!' He mouths back.

There is no way that the yeti is going to just let us go but I'm not going to let Darren die after his brother and I risked our lives to get here and save him. I knew that my death was a possibility when I first start climbing the mountain.

I've lived a simple, easy life. I had hoped I would meet my mate before I died, but hopefully, he will be fated to another after my passing. Jaidan and his brother need each other, I have no one. It makes sense that I should stay as the sacrifice.

'I'm going to stay,' I speak clearly, allowing the yeti to hear me, too. 'Go, now.'

'No! I'm not leaving you!' Darren protests and then winces, clutching the wound on his side.

'Jaidan needs you,' I insist. 'You have to go.'

Jaidan looks hopelessly between the two of us. I pin him with a serious look.

'Help your brother down the mountain and take him straight to the clinic,' I order him.

Jaidan nods frantically and quickly starts pulling his brother away. Darren tries to fight him, but only ends up falling over his feet. Jaidan struggles but manages to right him before they stagger away from me.

With a sinking feeling in my gut, I turn around to face the yeti. During our exchange, the yeti has crept closer to me and is now only a metre away. I scream at his sudden closeness and fall backwards.

My boots are lodged in the snow and stop me from moving my feet. Without that ability, I flail and then fall into the snow. I land on my ass in the two-foot deep powder. The wolf takes another step closer and leans in towards me.

His teeth are bared and saliva drips from the pointed spikes to the snow. I remain perfectly still, sitting in the snow. His hot breath fans over my face and I close my eyes, waiting for death to come.

But it doesn't.

When nothing has happened for a few moments, I peek open one eye. The wolf is watching me with clear interest, but shows no signs of attacking me. He inhales deeply. When he exhales, his breath hits me again, moving my hair with the force of it.

He leans back on his haunches and studies me for a moment. This close to him, I spot that he can only see out of one eye. The one that is scarred is milky white and unmoving. It is only the right one with the golden iris that watches me.

Then he does something I really don't expect. He nods his head in the direction of the cabin and stalks towards it. I stay motionless in the snow, the wet seeping through my cloak as I stare dumbly after him.

He turns back to see if I'm following and then nods his head towards the cabin again. I watch him get to the porch steps and look over my shoulder. Darren and Jaidan are long gone. I hope that they get down the mountain safely. That journey is perilous enough as it is without being wounded as well.

Perhaps I could go after them...the yeti had the opportunity to kill me and hasn't.

Maybe he would let me go?

An irritated growl sounds out, making me jump. My head whips around to see the wolf waiting impatiently on the steps for me.

Realising that I have no choice in the matter, I unsteadily get to my feet. I brush the snow from my body with my gloves and slowly make my way towards the cabin. The wolf waits until I am a few feet away and then climbs the steps.

The wolf shifts in front of me. Fur disappears and is replaced by dark, weathered skin. His height grows to over six foot and his body fills out, becoming broad and muscular.

His hair is golden blonde, short and shaggy, like he cut him himself. His wide shoulders move in to his slim waist, creating a triangle shape. His buttocks, long and firm, flash me in the fading light.

I am entranced and find myself unable to look away from his gorgeous form as he opens the door and walks inside.

I hesitate at the bottom of the stairs. It looks warm inside the cabin. The wind blasts past me, taking my hair with it. The chill makes the decision for me and I scurry up the steps, into the house of a terrifying, naked man.

What the hell am I doing?

The cabin is as warm as it looks. On instinct, I hurriedly close the door behind me in an attempt to keep the heat in. My hand freezes on the doorknob as I realise that I've just shut myself in a small building with a monster.

Great going, Opal.

"Here."

I jump at the sound of the raspy voice behind me. When I spin around, Rorke is stood, offering a steaming mug. He has dressed in a pair of trousers but hasn't bothered with a shirt.

I don't blame him, the cottage is warm enough from the fire roaring in the hearth. I'm not sure what I was expecting, my mind couldn't conjure up what his face might look like, but his raw beauty blindsides me.

He still has the four pale pink scars across his face. His left eye is milky white and unseeing. His other eye, with a golden iris, stares ahead, past me. As he offers the mug again by stretching his arm out a little more, I realise that he is fully blind.

He can only see in his wolf form.

A tiny part of me feels safer. I have one thing that he doesn't right now; sight.

I make no move to take the mug, completely entranced with his face. He is truly beautiful. He has a prominent, Roman nose, a defined jaw and high cheekbones. He is shaven and well-kept for a supposed mountain monster. I can't stop going back to his lips, either. The palest of pinks but so soft-looking and plumper than my pillow at home.

"Drink," he orders again, his voice hoarse.

I look down at the mug. It looks like tea. It's a pale brown liquid with a few green tea leaves swirling in the bottom. It doesn't smell suspicious. The steam rising from it is calling to me, begging me to drink it.

"It's only mountain tea. Even if you don't trust me to drink it, at least hold it to warm up," he says, more firmly this time.

As he speaks, my eyes travel back from the mug and to his face. Something dawns on me as I reach to take the mug from him. The timing can't be any worse.

Just as my fingers wrap around the heated ceramic mug, I note Rorke's youthful appearance.

The tales, rumours and bedtime stories of the blind yeti up the mountain have been told for years, decades. From the stories, he should be a lot older than he is. Rorke doesn't look a day over twenty-five, which can only mean one thing.

He has a mate that has paused his ageing. When soulmates are split years apart (rare, but possible), the older one stops ageing until the other catches up, then it resumes and they age slowly together.

In all of the stories, not once is Rorke's mate mentioned. He can't have met them yet. I feel a little relieved for him, that he has someone out there. He has a terrible past and a lonely future, but his mate would change all of that.

But as these thoughts shoot through my mind, my fingers brush against his around the mug. The contact produces a warm feeling in my stomach. It sets off a series of images in my mind of Rorke and I playing in the snow, cuddling on the sofa, kissing in the kitchen and lying naked in each other's arms in front of the fire.

I let go of the mug on instinct, my fingers relaxing. Rorke experiences the same reaction and drops the mug out of shock, too. Luckily, his reflexes are much faster than mine. He bends his knees and drops into a crouch, catching the mug a few feet before it hits the ground. Tea sloshes onto the floor and his hand, but most of the damage is prevented.

He feels for the nearby mini table and places the mug on it before straightening up. I stare at him, mouth dry and mind reeling.

I am Rorke's mate?

I repeat the sentence again and again in my head, but it doesn't seem to be sinking in. This feels impossible and yet, touching him felt so normal and right at the same time.

Rorke looks directly at me but doesn't see me. His mouth lifts into a half-smile. He holds out his large, rough hand for me.

"I am Rorke."

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Anyone else hear I am Groot? 😫