Camden clung to the stranger's hand, a mixture of uncertainty and desperation swirling within her. The absurdity of her situation was not lost on her—trusting a stranger, following him to some unknown location. Camden had watched enough true crime shows to know that this is how women die. Yet, the alternative, returning to a life where she would be married to a man barely more than a stranger to her, was even more unbearable. She couldn't see herself waking up next to him every morning, or worse, having to bear his children. Camden felt nothing for him, besides resentment, and she knew that would only grow worse with time. So, she figured taking her chances with this mysterious stranger in the woods was a better option than marrying the boy who was probably waiting for her at the altar by now.
Guilt washed over her as she thought about the groom. It wasn't his fault either. He was probably as much a victim of their conniving parents as she was. She felt terrible, imagining him standing at the altar in front of all those people, waiting for a bride who would never show up. He would be embarrassed for sure, but maybe he would also be relieved. Maybe she could give him that small consolation. Perhaps someday he would find his true mate and forget all about this sham of a wedding.
Camden looked up at her rescuer. He was tall, lean and muscular with long dark hair that he had pulled back into a bun on the top of his head. He had a full beard that made him look like he had just strolled off the set of Vikings. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that looked a bit worse for wear.
They trudged through the forest in silence, not a word passing between them. Camden couldn't help but cast anxious glances over her shoulder every few steps. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves sent her into a panic. She was sure that her father's men would have pursued her, she wouldn't be surprised if they passed the boundaries of their land in an attempt to bring her back, but she couldn't be sure of that.
Hours had passed since she had left her home. Climbing down a trellis on the wall next to her bedroom window, which, of course, was on the top floor. She had snagged her dress and had cuts all over her hands and forearms from the rambling rose that grew up to her room. The scent was beautiful and sweet, such a stark contrast from the way she felt that day. When she got to the bottom, she had kicked off her shoes and ran. She had called to her wolf in hope, but she knew she was incapacitated as a result of the wolfsbane. She would have to do this on her own. She ran, knowing that she would be pursued as soon as they figured out she had escaped. She only had a short while to try and get some distance ahead of them, knowing that they would be much faster than her in their wolf form. She had run with everything she had for what felt like hours, though she couldn't be sure how long it really was.
It was now that fatigue began to claim her body. Her legs grew weak, and her once determined stride faltered, causing her to stumble and trip. The stranger, who she then realised was still holding her hand, swiftly steadied her, preventing her from falling onto the forest floor. "We're not far now," he reassured her, concern flickering in his eyes. He could sense her exhaustion in her weary expression. "Would you like me to carry you?" he offered.
Camden's stubbornness flared and she let go of his hand. "I'm fine, thank you," she said, determined to prove her self-sufficiency. This was short-lived though, because a few steps further on, she stumbled once more as her wedding dress snagged on a jutting branch. Frustrated, she grunted and tugged at it, only to lose her balance and fall backwards, landing on her butt.
The man reached out his hand once more, an unspoken gesture of aid. Reluctantly, Camden accepted, swallowing her pride and allowing him to help her up. "Are you sure you don't want me to carry you?" he asked again. Camden was nothing if not stubborn. "How much further is it?" she asked. "Probably about 25 minutes," the man said. Camden sighed. She knew she did not have the strength left to walk another 25 minutes. The sinking sun served as a reminder that the day was coming to a close and she was tired. Reluctantly, she conceded, her weariness overpowering her desire for independence. "Alright," she said, her utter exhaustion evident in her voice.
Swooping her up with ease, the man cradled Camden in his arms. Awkwardness settled between them as she contemplated the proper positioning of her arms. Should she wrap them around his neck? They weren't exactly on familiar terms, so that would be weird. Should she keep them folded across her chest? Feeling like an idiot, she eventually settled for tucking her arms against her chest, her hands resting below her chin.
As the rhythmic swaying motion lulled Camden into a drowsy state, sleep enveloped her, and she drifted off to sleep in the stranger's arms.
She awoke in a panic, gasping for air. Memories of the wedding, the escape, and the running flooded her mind. Where was she now? This place was unfamiliar. Her eyes fell upon the crackling fire in the fireplace, and as she glanced outside, she realized it was nighttime. How long had she been asleep? Looking around, she noticed the stranger sitting on a chair near the fire, his gaze now lifted from the book he had been reading.
Approaching her, he extended his hand and introduced himself. "I'm Clayton," he said. Tentatively, Camden took his hand and whispered her name, "Camden." Surveying her surroundings, she realized she was in a small log cabin—a complete contrast to her previous life. "Where are we?" she asked, uncertainty lacing her words. "It's a safe place," Clayton assured her, noticing her apprehension. "I used it as a hideout occasionally, but it's become more of a permanent residence lately. Don't worry, it's far beyond your pack's boundaries. I highly doubt your father's men would venture this far in search of you." Relief washed over her, but a nagging thought lingered. "You don't know my father..." she muttered.
Clayton looked at her, covered in grime and blood from the snagging tree branches. Her makeup was smeared and messy. Her blonde hair was tangled and had leaves and twigs in it. She certainly didn't look like a bride to him - at least not anymore. Concern etched into his features, "Are you hungry?" he asked. Camden nodded, realizing she hadn't eaten since breakfast. "I'm afraid I don't have much here, I need to restock. There's Spaghetti-O's or baked beans," he offered, holding two cans in his hands.
Opting for the Spaghetti-O's, Camden watched as Clayton opened the can and handed it over to her along with a fork. She wolfed down the contents, her hunger overriding any semblance of propriety she had once had. Once she finished, she thanked him and handed the empty can back along with the fork. She was perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do next. Clayton handed her a cup of water, and she sipped it gratefully.
Curiosity burned within him as he observed her. "Where is your wolf?" he asked, his directness not leaving room for evasion. Camden's voice was tinged with bitterness as she muttered, "Wolfsbane... Alpha Grant, my father, gave me wolfsbane to keep my wolf docile for the wedding ceremony." Understanding dawned in Clayton's eyes, knowing that her dormant wolf state was temporary. "I'm sure you'll be back to your old self tomorrow then. For now, you need rest. We can talk more in the morning," he suggested.
Camden regarded the man cautiously, noting his striking features and stoic demeanor. He hadn't cracked a smile yet, but she recognized that her own somber mood wasn't exactly conducive to livening up the conversation with her wit and charm. Perhaps tomorrow would be better.
"Goodnight, Camden," he said softly, returning to his book at the table. "Goodnight," she replied, placing the cup of water on the bedside table and settling back onto the bed, facing the wall. Weariness enveloped her like a heavy cloak, and within minutes, she succumbed to a deep sleep, momentarily forgetting her worries.
As the night wore on, the crackling of the fire served as the backdrop to their shared solitude. Clayton, engrossed in his book, occasionally stole glances at Camden as she slept. His protective instincts stirred, entwined with a growing sense of connection that defied rational explanation.