Sunset Glade Panthers: The Original Trilogy and Epilogue

by Sennah Tate

  “Perfectly safe,” he assured her again, crossing the log back to her before walking backwards to the other bank again. He moonwalked and tried to make it look effortless — tried to make her smile. It didn’t work.

  “Take my hand,” he finally said, extending his arm toward her, “I’ll lead you.”

  He watched the fear in her eyes morph to resolute determination. He admired that. She wasn’t fearless, but brave enough to look her fears in the eye and tell them to fuck right off. It was one of the things he liked most about her.

  Whoa. Slow down there, he growled inwardly at his purring panther. There weren’t things he liked about her. She was just another girl.

  Mate mate mate mate!

  Shut up!

  They made it halfway across the fallen log bridge before Brock stopped arguing with himself. Her hand felt slippery in his, but he never wanted to let go.

  “Doing alright?” he asked, not needing an answer.

  No. She wasn’t all right. She was stiff, her pulse racing, her footing unsure.

  And then she slipped.

  His hand tightened but her grip slid through his like sand through his fingers.

  “Hailey!” he cried as she screamed her alarm and fell into the water below.

  Thought the water was slow and shallow, she didn’t immediately surface and panic gripped him in a chokehold. Without thinking he jumped in after her, standing head and shoulders above the water — she was shorter, she wouldn’t be able to touch bottom.

  An unexpected force smacked into the back of his knee; it buckled and Brock went under, finding Hailey thrashing wildly. She latched onto him in the desperate embrace of a woman fearing for her life, nearly choking him as she pulled him further down with her.

  His arm circled around her waist and gave her a reassuring squeeze; her frantic flailing stopped and she let him pull her to the other bank.

  They both coughed for a moment, but Hailey’s sputtering didn’t stop. Her entire body trembled and shook and Brock knew the signs of traumatic shock enough to know he needed to calm her the best he could.

  “Breathe,” he soothed, patting her back gently.

  She coughed again, face down in the mud, shivering uncontrollably.

  “Shhh.” He knew he had to get her to shelter ASAP or they were going to be much worse off.

  He helped her sit up, but her shivers only intensified.

  “The cabin shouldn’t be more than a hundred yards. Do you think you can make it that far?” he asked, worried about the distant look in her baby blues. Damn him for agreeing to bring her here. She was too fragile for this.

  She nodded, unable to find her voice.

  He led her through the thinning trees, one strong arm around her waist to keep her steady and upright. They took it slow, despite Brock’s growing concern that she was heading for shock. He finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief when the tiny hunting cabin came into view.

  The wooden structure sat on an elevated foundation, and Brock had to practically carry Hailey up the stairs in through the door to the single-room abode.

  Brock wasted no time settling her on the creaky bed before finding a musty-smelling blanket in dry storage. He wrapped her up like a burrito before scrounging around for tinder to throw in the wood stove.

  By the time he had a fire going, Hailey was fast asleep.

  “Not your finest hour, Silvanus,” he muttered, remembering the way she’d frozen with panic, the sheer terror in her eyes, the feeling of her fingers slipping out of his grasp…

  It surprised him how scared he’d been in that moment. Scared to lose her. Scared to fail her.

  He took a moment to snoop around, hoping for something obvious to stick out at him. If Hailey’s grandfather had evidence about ‘beasts in the swamp’ maybe he’d stashed it here.

  It didn’t take long for his wet clothes to send a chill through him and he decided to let them dry by the fire while Hailey slept. There was nothing of note in this dank little cabin and he had no right to be rooting around it.

  With a last look at Hailey’s slumbering form, he left in search of food.

  Chapter Nine

  Hailey

  When Hailey finally woke, the first thing she noticed was the heavy blanket draped over her, quickly followed by the dampness of her clothes, now stiff and half-dried to her body. She tried to remember what had happened.

  The events came back to her in bits and pieces, but her memories were faulty — she’d always known that.

  She looked around, assuming this was her grandfather’s cabin. The dying embers of a fire remained in an ancient wood stove on the other side of the room and draped on the back of a nearby chair were Brock’s clothes.

  Brock. Her mouth went dry at the thought of him without his clothes.

  She crawled out of the creaky bed, her muscles aching and protesting with every tiny movement.

  “Brock?” she called quietly, her voice scratchy with sleep.

  No answer.

  The one-room cabin didn’t leave any places for him to hide. There was a little wood stove in the middle of the room, the bed she’d napped on pushed against one wall, a small armoire on another and a long row of assorted weapons, ancient traps, and what she assumed was survival equipment lined three of the four walls.

  Hopefully he’s out looking for more wood, she thought with a shiver. Damp clothes certainly weren’t helping keep her warm.

  Maybe he wouldn’t mind…

  Before she’d given the thought life, Hailey found herself stripping out of her wet clothes and slipping effortlessly into Brock’s too-big t-shirt. The over-sized garment nearly reached her knees and Hailey felt sinfully seductive wearing something that belonged to the devilishly sexy guide who’d left it behind.

  What was it about Brock that made her pulse quicken? Her insides melt? With everyone else he was gruff and downright rude. She’d seen it first-hand for a brief moment. Then he changed. She didn’t trust the sudden shift, but her body responded regardless.

  Thunder rumbled, vibrating loose window panes.

  Where is he? she wondered. How long had she slept? How long had he been gone? Surely he’d come back for his clothes, right?

  The sky darkened quickly and the intensity and frequency of thunder increased with it. Hailey nibbled her bottom lip, worrying that he’d be caught in it.

  But he was perfectly capable. He lived out here. He knew the Glades backwards and forwards, in his own words. Why would she worry about him?

  The door flung open just as the sky split in two. Brock rushed in, barring the torrent of rain behind him.

  He stopped dead in his tracks, spotting Hailey in only his t-shirt. If she hadn’t been similarly distracted by his lack of clothes, she’d have blushed at his unabashed heated gaze. As it were, Brock in just his boxers was an image she’d have to hold onto for a very long time. She’d never felt this kind of attraction. This heat. This need.

  “My clothes were wet,” she finally said, gesturing to where she’d laid them out in front of the stove.

  He laughed, breaking the tension. “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

  His words heated her from the inside and she felt a flush creep up her neck before coloring her cheeks.

  “Uh… thanks. What’s that?”

  Brock held up a bundle of palm fronds, “Dinner. I caught a few fish and gutted them. May not be fine dining, but should be good enough.”

  Her stomach rumbled in response to his promise of food.

  “Mmm. Sounds wonderful,” she answered, licking her lips.

  His gaze stayed glued to her lips and she felt more self-conscious than ever.

  He cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence that hung between them. The air felt electric and heated between them. What was this?

  “It looks like it’s gonna be a nasty storm out there. We’re lucky this cabin is here. Hopefully the roof doesn’t leak,” he added with an irreverent grin.

  Was he
making fun of her fear of water? She frowned.

  “Look, I’m sorry about…” she gestured wildly but couldn’t frame her thoughts properly. He made her head swim.

  “It’s okay,” he said, cutting off her deluge of rambling thoughts. He situated the packets of fish wrapped in leaves amongst the embers in the stove, letting the filets steam.

  “I just wish I’d known that it was more than… nerves,” he said after a moment of hesitation, like he was looking for the right word.

  She wanted to explain her fear to him, but there was nothing to explain. What could she say? Water reminded her of the day she was attacked by bigfoot? At the shore of Falcon’s Crest Lake, she met a monster that scarred her for life? She’d never learned to swim. Never wanted to go near any body of water larger than her bath tub, since that day.

  After a few minutes of continued silence, Brock pulled the fish from the remnants of the fire and stoked it to life once more.

  Hailey picked the flesh from the bones, taking care not to burn her fingers as steam escaped.

  “This is really good,” she said. Maybe it was the hunger talking, but Brock’s cooking always satisfied her.

  His answering smile was sexy enough to make her feel like she’d combust.

  “I’m glad you like it. Is this cabin what you expected to find here?”

  She frowned, picking at her fish thoughtfully.

  “I’m not sure what I expected. Or what I wanted, I guess. I do appreciate you bringing me out here though.”

  He nodded, “Happy to help.”

  From the heated look in his golden eyes, she got the impression that he meant it.

  “Hold still,” he said, reaching out to wipe something from her face with the rough pad of his thumb.

  Without meaning to, Hailey found herself leaning into his palm.

  “You had a little something,” he whispered, his voice growing husky.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. Those long lashes, the heavy brow that made him look like he had a permanent scowl, the scar that crossed his face… She reached out and traced the scar with the barest brush of her fingertips.

  “What happened?” she asked, only faintly aware that it may be a sore subject with him.

  His eyes darkened, “A fight.”

  She frowned, “About what?” The scar ran deep and jagged from his widow’s peak over his eye, across his cheek to his ear. Must have been one doozy of a fight.

  He shrugged, leaning in closer as her fingers wound in his thick hair, “Does it matter?”

  Her lips parted, a breath caught in her throat as she tried to form an answer.

  Brock seemed to grow closer and Hailey felt herself close her eyes in anticipation of his kiss.

  She felt his breath on her skin and knew he was there, but he held steady, a hair’s breadth away from giving her what she craved so badly. With her hand still entwined in his hair, she pulled him in the final millimeter, their lips meeting in a chaste unsure coupling.

  Hailey opened her eyes, breathless from the super-charged sensations flooding her.

  She blinked, trying to find the words to explain herself. His hand thrust into her tangled mass of curls and pulled her back into him, their meal long forgotten.

  She could’ve sworn she heard him growl, but that had to be the thunder, right?

  His tongue invaded her the way the man himself had invaded her. Without apology. Completely and totally. Leaving her breathless. Senseless. Hopelessly infatuated.

  Hailey struggled to keep up with him. She didn’t have his prowess or experience. He would surely think her a terrible kisser…

  His hand slid up her thigh eliciting a moan from deep down within.

  “Brock,” she practically panted as his hands skirted up her sides, lifting his giant t-shirt as they did.

  “You make this scrap of cotton look like a million bucks, but I’d much rather see it on the floor.”

  The work-roughened surface of his palm brushed against the side of her breast and all she could do was nod.

  He whisked the shirt over her head without another moment of wasted time. Their lips met again, hot, needy and full of unspoken promises. It was too easy for their skin to touch. Without the barrier of his shirt, his hot skin was against her in moments. His hands burned a blazing path over her ribcage before tracing the line of her spine, settling on her ass with a forceful squeeze.

  “God, Hailey, I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured, showering feathery kisses down her neck, nipping gently where it met her shoulder.

  For the briefest moment, she wondered what he meant by that. Then his lips encircled her nipple and all thoughts were lost.

  The rain pelted the shack relentlessly just as Brock showered Hailey with kisses, overwhelming her senses. Her plaintive moans echoed in the small space and the heat from the glowing embers mirrored the warming flame between her legs.

  She explored his body in kind. Tracing the hard lines of his muscles, following the golden hair that dusted his chest as it thinned into a fine line that disappeared beneath his boxers. Her fingers toyed with the elastic band, too timid to go further.

  Brock covered her hand with his and guided it to the steel rod his plaid boxers concealed. She explored his length through the thin fabric, enjoying the way it responded to her touch. The gentlest brush of her fingers could make it jump into her palm and soon Hailey found her hand slipping through the opening, wrapping around velvety smooth skin with a firm grip.

  He groaned and she snatched her hand back.

  “Did that hurt?” she asked, wide eyes searching his face for pain. Instead, she saw frustration.

  “Fuck no. It felt incredible,” he said, pulling her hand back to his lap as he discarded the boxers.

  His hand slid between her legs and teased the damp curls guarding her entrance. A gasp turned into a sigh as he slipped a finger into her wet folds, finding the aching bundle of nerves that sent lightning to her toes.

  “Oh,” she moaned, her hand closed around his manhood forgotten.

  “I want you so bad, Hailey,” he groaned, one long finger entering her with expert precision, stroking her most sensitive places, reaching deeper inside her than she knew possible.

  “Yes,” she panted, “I want you, too,” barely able to find her voice. What was she saying? He was the one everyone warned her about and here she was begging him to… to… But his finger inside her felt so incredible and she knew there was more to come.

  He led her to the bed and laid her down gingerly, as if she were something to handle with care, his eyes hungrily devouring her and making her squirm without ever being touched. She wanted to tell him to get on with it, but she remained mesmerized, transfixed by the lusty look he gave her and the obvious effect she had on him.

  Hailey spread her legs apart, welcoming him. The rain outside sounded far off — on another planet, in another time — all she heard was Brock’s steady breathing as he positioned himself at her entrance, coating himself with her arousal.

  Her spine arched off the bed and she mewled with desperate need.

  “Please,” she’d never felt any need as intensely as she felt her need for Brock. Never needed anything — food, water, air — as much as she needed him.

  He didn’t make her ask twice.

  He filled her slowly, allowing her to savor every inch of his hard length, letting her adjust to the solid girth that drove her wild. The rest of the world fell away and there was only the two of them. Only the frantic joining of two people desperately seeking affection — connection.

  There was something more to it. Hailey felt it, but she couldn’t latch onto it long enough to identify it. Brock was relentless. He sheathed himself within her time and again, driving her higher, pushing her toward an impossibly high peak.

  She grasped at the sheets, at his corded biceps, at anything that could tether her to the Earth as it faded into the background.

  Still he persisted. Sizzling touches sent spasms to her
very core and Hailey heard a wanton cry escape her lips.

  His mouth fanned the flame deep within her as he worshipped her skin, feverish kisses covering her neck as Brock was barely able to restrain himself.

  “You’re gonna make me come so fast,” he growled, pulling a dusty pink nipple between his teeth to punctuate his sentence.

  Hailey’s orgasmic cry echoed in the tiny room as her nails dug into the taut muscles of his back.

  “Brock,” she panted, breathless, voiceless, unable to think of anything past the delicious sensations the rose and crested within her over and over. A storm surge battering against the shore, eroding away each and every grain of resistance she’d ever had with every new wave of immeasurable pleasure.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” his voice was tight, he was holding back for her, giving her everything he had.

  “Come with me, Hailey,” he demanded, his fingers digging into her hips, dragging a new thrill — an impossibly higher tier of bliss — with each thrust.

  She couldn’t deny him.

  Her world exploded in a fit of lights and colors. The universe spun out of control, but Brock held her steady, the place where they joined anchoring her, reminding Hailey that she couldn’t actually float away on the clouds he sent her to.

  Brock’s completion followed immediately and they shuddered in unison, the enormity of what they’d shared overwhelming.

  His lips found hers in a hungry union; Hailey’s head spun too much to think of anything more than his mouth, his tongue and his hand skirting down her rib cage. Brock slipped out of her and pulled her to his chest, the only sounds in the cabin their heavy breathing and the fading rain in the distance.

  “Wow,” she whispered. She’d never known… never had any idea that it could be so…

  “You’ve got that right,” he said with a chuckle.

  Hailey’s eyes drifted closed as his calloused fingers drew swirling designs on her still-electrified skin, slowing bringing her down from the high he’d induced.

  After a while like that, curled up in eachother’s arms on the too-small bed, Brock untangled himself from Hailey’s limbs.

  “I think the rain’s stopped. I want to check the trail.”