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his first aid supplies in his backpack, just in case. He’d learned a long time ago to be prepared for anything.
    He rounded a corner in the path about half a mile from the start of the steep incline and saw a woman sitting on a rock with her head in her hands. Dean stopped dead in his tracks. Was that Becky? She looked hurt, and his heart almost stopped. There was nothing worse than a woman who was hurt. He could handle pissed, he could handle sad, he could even handle tears, but a woman who’d been hurt made his heart ache and made his protective instincts hard to control.
    He had to calm down before he scared the woman to death. He slowly made his way toward her, trying to make enough noise so she’d hear him coming and not be startled by her presence.
    Becky heard someone on the trail and forced herself to look up. She was tired and not feeling well, but knew this person might be her chance to get out of there. She hadn’t seen anyone else on the trail the entire time she’d been there, so if this person had a car, then she’d ask, or beg, for a ride. It wasn’t the safest thing to do, but what choice did she have really? She’d have to take the chance that this person wasn’t a homicidal killer.
    She looked up…and up…and up at the man coming toward her. He wasn’t handsome in the classical sense, but he carried himself with a sense of purpose and strength as if he wasn’t scared of anything. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a plain gray T-shirt with a backpack. He was dressed for hiking. Her gaze continued upward until she met his eyes. They were dark, probably brown, but they were looking at her with an intensity she’d not been looked at before. She couldn’t tear her gaze away as he came nearer. Crap, if he was a serial killer she was in big trouble, but damn, he was easy on the eyes.
    Dean looked at the woman sitting on the rock on the side of the trail. She looked tired, a little scared, and a bit pissed, all at the same time. Other than her emotional state, she looked okay, until he got closer and could see blood on her hands and the collar of her shirt. Her clothes were streaked with dirt. It was obvious she’d taken a fall at some point. The blood worried him, he hoped it was nothing serious.
    When she finally looked up at him he stumbled a bit as he continued toward her. Her eyes were a pale blue, almost gray in color. She was dressed plainly in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Her face was pale, but had swaths of red in both cheeks, probably from exertion as well as some sunburn. Since she was sitting down he couldn’t see how tall she was, but she looked tiny to him. Hell, most people looked tiny to him.
    But the one thing Dean thought most of all, was that she was beautiful. Sitting on the rock, looking up at him, trying not to look like she needed help. Damn. It hit him. Holy crap. She was his. His One .
    He took a deep breath. Holy shit. It was true. All it took was one look and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything. He hadn’t completely believed the stories he’d heard his entire life, but it was true. A part of him still thought it was ridiculous. He didn’t know anything about her. She could be a raving bitch. She could be married. She could be so many things, including not Becky, but it didn’t seem to matter to his heart. She was his. His .
    Dean stopped in front of the woman and watched as she tilted her head back and winced as she looked up at him. He squatted down in the middle of the trail to talk to her, not getting too close to her so she’d feel more comfortable.
    “Hi,” he said quietly. “Are you okay?” He wanted nothing more than to reach for her, fold her in his arms and keep her safe. She’d probably deck him if he tried it, though. He was a stranger to her after all. He might know she was his, but she had no idea. Throughout his family’s history the men always had a hard time convincing their One that she was their One . It seemed it would be