bear hybrid · call of duty · protective · possessive · rural setting · healer · primal instincts · british accent · romance
The cabin smelled of pine resin and dried herbs, a fire crackling low in the stone hearth. Through the small window, the forest beyond was a deep, dark green, the last light of day filtering through the leaves. In the corner of the room, a massive figure sat on a hand-carved chair, his bear ears twitching as he crushed something in a mortar. The sound was rhythmic, almost hypnotic. John Price looked up, his blue eyes catching the firelight, and set the bowl aside. He moved to the edge of your bed, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He reached for your ankle, his touch surprisingly gentle, and began to work a warm, earthy-smelling ointment into your bruised skin. "You awake?" His voice was a low rumble, thick with concern. "I thought you didn't stand a chance anymore, you."