Bigfoot’s Mate (Mates for Monsters: Sasquatch #3)

5. Deborah

CHAPTER 5

DEBORAH

Sixteen days ago...

When I come to, the first thing I see is Dafydd’s concerned eyes hovering nearby, looking worried.

"You know," I croak, "we really need to stop meeting like this. People will talk."

He doesn't laugh. Tough crowd.

"How long was I out this time?" I struggle to try to sit up.

“Nine hours twenty-three minutes and four and a half seconds.” He moves to help me sit. I let him this time, too weak to protest.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, feeling pathetic. “My body's about as loyal as my ex-boss." I try for a smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

"No need to apologize." He shakes his head. “It took time for you to heal. You’ll be feeling much better now.”

Heal. Right. Okay.

I pat his furry hand and he makes a deep, rumbling sound that's oddly comforting. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like…" I’m about to say I feel like I've been hit by a truck—twice—which is my usual response, but as I sit up, I actually feel better than I have in weeks. Maybe in years. Must be that nine-hour, twenty-three minute, and four-and-a-half second nap. “Great. I feel great. My throat’s a little dry.”

I made some tea. He reaches over to the bedside table and picks up a teapot that looks entirely too small for his large fingers, but he seems to handle the pot with dexterity as he pours a steaming cup.

Here," he says, handing the cup to me carefully. "This should help."

I take a cautious sip. It's earthy and slightly sweet, with a hint of mint. "This is good. What is it?"

“Squatch tea.” He settles back into his chair. "My mother used to make it for me when I was a child."

The image of a tiny, furry Sasquatch pops into my mind, and I can't help but giggle. Dafydd raises a brow, and I wave a hand dismissively. "Sorry, just picturing baby Sasquatches."

He grins, revealing his fangs again. His teeth are surprisingly white. "Our young are quite adorable, I'll have you know."

We lapse into a comfortable silence as I sip my tea. It's strange how quickly I've gone from terror to...well, not quite ease, but something close to it. I feel so different. So much better. I swear I have more energy. And there’s no trace of the nausea that’s plagued me almost constantly for the past couple of months.

"So," I say, breaking the silence, "I don't suppose you'd care to fill me in on what exactly is going on and why I’m even here? Last I knew, Sasquatches were mythical creatures, and now here I am…underground? We are underground, right?"

Dafydd nods, leaning forward, and resting his elbows on his knees. "It's a long story. But the short version is, my kind has always been here. We've just gotten very good at staying hidden."

"And now you're...what? Recruiting humans?"

He shakes his head. "Not exactly.” He wears a slightly embarrassed expression. "Our population has a severe imbalance—far more males than females. We hoped that by bringing human women into our population, we might...even things out a bit."

I set my mug down, my mind buzzing with this new information. "So, what? You just kidnap human women and hope for the best?"

"No!" Dafydd looks appalled. "No, of course not. It's all voluntary. You were chosen by an algorithm as a human female who might be open to remaining here in Grotto. You weren’t kidnapped… Were you?! Please tell me you were given the choice to come here.”

Okay, I suppose kidnapping is an exaggeration. The horrified expression on Dafydd’s face fills me with remorse for implying he would kidnap a woman.

“No. I wasn’t kidnapped.” Although, the full nature of what I was agreeing to wasn't entirely clear either. "So, an algorithm, huh? What, like Tinder for Sasquatches?"

He looks confused for a moment before catching on to my joke. “Ah, Tinder, the human hookup app. Something like that, I suppose. Though I hope we’ll have better success rates."

Despite myself, I laugh aloud. This whole situation is so utterly ridiculous that I can't help but find it amusing. Here I am, dying of a terminal illness, on the run from false embezzlement charges, and having tea with a Sasquatch in his underground city.

Then I remember what he said to me earlier, “I’d like for us to be mates…companions.”

As if reading my thoughts, he again says to me, “Deborah, I want you to be my mate."

I need to double-check here, to be completely clear. “When you say mate, you mean... romantic partner?”

“Yes.”

I swallow hard. This big softie has just not been listening. I know I should shoot him down again. My expiration date and all that. I know I should. But for some reason, the words won’t leave my tongue. Instead, I default to humor. “I’m flattered, but you just met me. And I've spent most of the time we’ve known each other unconscious."

“True,” he concedes, not laughing at all. "But I feel a connection to you. I can't explain it, but you're special."

I think he’s blushing. It's adorable. And hot.

A hot Sasquatch? Really?

I glance up at him through my lashes. Yep, he’s hot. In a huge-monster-beast sort of way.

As I fix him with a smoldering stare, his eyes soften, and something electric passes between us. The air feels thick with possibility.

I want to kiss him. I need to kiss him. And life is short—for some of us, very short. I’m going to kiss him, dammit.

He’s right next to me. His chair is pulled up right alongside the bed.

Without breaking eye contact, I lean closer to him. He leans closer to me. Our lips are inches apart, and…a loud knocking shatters the moment.

Fuck. Someone has terrible timing.

Dafydd releases a frustrated sigh. Slowly, he stands. Before he reaches the door, the knocking turns into pounding and a female voice calls out. “Hey! I know you’re in there. Open up!"

When Dafydd opens the door, I get a glimpse of three very determined-looking women in the doorway—a redhead with wild curls, a reserved-looking blonde with a horrible burn scar on her face, and a woman with auburn hair. I recognize all three of them. They were in that transport van that brought us here.

The moment her eyes land on me, the redhead bounces into the room. “There you are. We haven’t seen you at all since we arrived, and you weren’t at the square dance tonight.”

Square dance? What square dance? There was a square dance? This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

“We were worried about you.” She shoots Dafydd an accusing glower before turning back to me. "I'm Steph.” She points to her companions. "That's Bambi and that’s Octavia. We're three of the other four human women here in Grotto.”

They crowd around my bed, looking genuinely concerned, and something inside me cracks open. When was the last time anyone cared enough to worry about me?

“Maria’s a little busy tonight, if you know what I mean,” the one named Bambi says. No, I don’t know what she means. Not until she winks, makes an “O” with her thumb and forefinger, and inserts her other index finger into it.

Right. Okay. Well, no judgment from me. If these three weren’t here, I might be on my way to doing the same thing right now.

“We were concerned when you didn't show up tonight,” Octavia says softly.

And there it is again. They were concerned. Like friends might be concerned about the well-being of another friend.

"You were?" My voice comes out smaller than I intend.

"Of course.” Steph plops her fists on her hips. "Us girls have to stick together down here."

A lump forms in my throat. I’m oddly touched. These women are strangers, but they’re here looking out for me—like friends. When’s the last time I had a real friend?

"We have a place for you all set up in the dorm,” Octavia offers quietly.

I glance at Dafydd.

The big guy’s eyes grow round, as though pleading. “Or you can stay here. With me.”

Part of me wants to stay, to explore whatever this thing is between us. But another part craves female companionship, friendship, a chance to understand and discuss this bizarre situation with other human women.

I know what I don’t want to do. I don’t want to shoot him down in front of my new friends. Not after all he’s done for me and how kind he’s been to me, so I ask them to give us a minute—to wait out in the hall for me.

The moment the door closes behind the women, my expression turns apologetic. "I should probably go with them," I tell Dafydd softly. "At least for now."

He nods, but I catch the flash of disappointment in his eyes. As I slide out of bed, my legs wobble slightly. He reaches to steady me and I grasp his arm for an anchor, marveling at the firm, thick bicep muscle beneath the silky texture of his fur.

The moment our skin connects, something changes in his expression. His eyes go wide, a humming sound fills the air, and I’m trying not to be rude and stare directly at it, but I think his below-the-belt area is…glowing.