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chop me into pieces and cook me up. God, I even find his sweaty body a turn on.
    He doesn’t answer, just lets out a low growl that vibrates his chest and I have to stifle a whimper. That was so hot! And I’m so messed up!
    “Where are you taking me?” I ask again, trying to get my voice to sound firmer. “Who are you? Where are we? Where is the pilot?”
    He still doesn’t answer, just keeps on walking with me in his arms. I search his face for a sign that he can listen but he’s not looking at me. His eyes are fixed straight forward and a muscle is ticking in his jaw. Yep. My previous assessment was correct. He is beyond pissed.
    “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I did that has made you angry I’m sorry. Just tell me where we are and how I can find the nearest town and I’ll be out of your way.”
    His jaw moves in a grinding movement and I’m pretty sure I just made him even angrier. Great. If he’s not already a psychotic murderer I’m sure I can turn him into one.
    The trees clear a bit and I realize we’re back at the cabin. He pushes the door open with me still in his arms and storms in the room. When he reaches the side of the bed, I expect him to toss me down but it’s not what happens. He lowers me carefully on the mattress until I’m lying on my back and he is hovering over me.
    “Stay,” he growls and – oh shit – I think I just had a mini orgasm. His voice is deep, gravely and rolls over me like warm honey and I have to hold my breath not to pant. What the hell is wrong with me? Oh, and that solves the mystery of whether he can speak or not.
    He moves his body and comes to bend over my leg. His hands pat the makeshift bandage as if he’s making sure it’s in place. Then he whirls around and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind him and rattling the entire structure. I’m pretty sure I’m wrong but… is it possible he was angry because I got out of bed? Because I could have possibly hurt my foot more?
    I remain laid down, unmoving in fear of him coming back. But I make a realization. I’m not afraid of him in the manner that he could hurt me. I simply don’t like him angry. I don’t know what he would look like not-angry but… Wait. I know what he looks like calm. When I woke up earlier and he touched my face he was calm and comforting. Safe. It must be why I was instinctually certain he wouldn’t hurt me when I saw him coming towards me in the woods.
    I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart. I need to figure out where I am. How long I’ve been out. Where the pilot is. If people know our plane crashed. If they know I’m alive. And I need to find a way back. I need to get back to looking for Damon. I was so close. What if he is in McCarthy as we speak and I’m stuck here? With my sexy caveman?
    The sound of the fire crackling and the birds chirping is unsurprisingly calming and I’m slowly drawn back to sleep. As I feel my consciousness slipping away, I think I hear the door swinging open, followed by soft footsteps. Maybe I’m imagining the rough fingers grazing my cheek, trailing my jaw and brushing the seam of my lower lip. I think I almost imagine a deep voice muttering “Fuck,” before I completely fall asleep.
     
    When I wake up, the cabin is quiet like before. The sound of the fire is my only company and the room is darker through my closed eyelids. I think it’s nighttime. I try to shift but I’m cut off by a sharp pain on my leg. I forgot about the splint for a moment. A small sound of protest comes out of my mouth and I prop my elbows on the mattress in an attempt to sit up.
    Rustling of clothes and a hand appearing to press on my lower back have my eyes flying open. I guess I wasn’t alone after all. My caveman’s face is next to mine and he’s helping me sit up. My heart immediately finds a crazy rhythm. Taking a few deep breaths, I manage to sit on my butt and my caveman helps me turn so I can lean against the wall behind me. I look up