Her Troll Defender (Beastly Falls)

Chapter 3

Jasmine

T he crackle of a fire warms me, wakes me just enough to be cognizant of the blanket over me, the gentle heat of the room around me, and the scent of something delicious cooking. My stomach rumbles, loudly, and that’s what makes my eyes flutter open.

I’m on a sofa by the fire, a hand-woven rug on the floor between the fireplace and me. The hearth is all stone—big, rounded boulders that go all the way to the ceiling. It’s beautiful. On either side of the hearth are bookshelves stuffed with books—again, floor to ceiling.

Rubbing my eyes to figure out if I’m in a dream or not, I wince at the pain. That’s when the memory floods back in. Running away from a monster, straight into…what? A glass wall? In the middle of the forest? Must have been a tree I didn’t see.

But that means…What? Someone rescued me. I don’t sit up, but listen intently, trying to sense beyond the fire where my savior is.

“You’re awake. Good. Food is ready.” The voice is deep and resonant, almost as if the very stones on the hearth vibrate in sync. And the stones aren’t the only thing vibrating. Squeezing my eyes shut and burrowing under the blanket, I wait. The thought that my fight-or-flight response seems to actually be freeze under the covers and hope whoever is out there doesn’t see me is not going to win me any evolutionary battles.

The footsteps get closer, then stop beside me. Silence. Seconds tick by, but then my stomach rumbles again. And the voice next to me chuckles. Here is where I die of embarrassment in front of my rescuer. Now I’m too hot to stay under the blanket.

I flip back the blanket, gulp in a breath of air, and turn to face my rescuer. My heart palpitates. He’s tall. Wide—he blocks out the entire fire, putting him into shadow and making his skin look grayish. Holding a tray with a steaming bowl of a stew that makes my mouth water, I can make out the muscular outline of his body.

“Sit up.” I do as he says. He sets the tray over my lap, kneeling before me in one fluid motion. My stomach screams for me to pay attention to the food before me, but I can’t take my eyes off him. I stop breathing, stop functioning. My rescuer is also the monster chasing me in the forest. That fight-or-flight response really needs a jumpstart, because sitting here frozen in front of him is definitely the wrong answer. I should throw the soup at him, jump over the back of the sofa, and leave this place and take my chance with the forest unknowns.

Instead, I notice the intensity of his golden eyes on me. The cheeks and jawline so angular they could have been carved from stone. The thickness of his fingers as he cradles the tray, making sure it’s steady so as not to spill the hot food all over me.

“Tha—thank you.” He lets go, stands just as gracefully as he knelt, and walks away. Why did I just thank him? What is wrong with me? Confusion threatens to melt my brain. So, I do what any intelligent Ghalib woman would do in this situation: I eat. No, I devour. Weeks of ramen has left my tastebuds in dire need of flavor. The stew is rich and tomatoey, full of herbs and vegetables. The thick slice of sourdough slathered in butter is perfect dipped into the stew. I wipe up every drip of liquid with the bread when I’m done. The food has erased any fears or sense of preservation I had. Have I just been poisoned? I don’t care. Worth it to have enjoyed the food.

Once I’ve wiped my mouth with the napkin, I stand, tray in hand, and turn a slow circle to figure out where to take it. It’s dark outside. So much for getting picked up by the crew. Look at the smartwatch on my wrist, but it seems to be broken. It still reads the time from this afternoon. The stone archway to my right leads to a lighted room.

The kitchen looks like something out of one of the architectural magazine spreads. It’s well-lit, open, full of windows. Pebbled stone backsplash behind the gorgeous stove, granite countertops, smooth travertine flooring underfoot. And there, sitting at the island on a barstool—granted, a very thick and sturdy barstool—is my captor and rescuer, hunched over his bowl of stew.

“Hello? Um, thank you. That was the most delicious food I’ve eaten in a really long time. I—uh—missed my pickup time at the end of my shift. Do you think…could you drop me off? I don’t really know where we are, and I don’t feel super comfortable walking through the forest at night. Or in the day, for that matter. Pretty sure there are some wild beasts out there. But then, there are wild beasts here, right? Sorry. But the job is paying my mom’s medical bills…” I pinch my lips together between my teeth. I can’t believe I just rambled like that. “I’m Jasmine, by the way.” I give an embarrassed wave and try to ignore the heat rising up my neck to my cheeks.

I swear the monster’s face cracks into a slight grin. His fangs glint in the light. Is he—laughing at me? There’s definitely an amused look to his face. Maybe I could shrivel and die of embarrassment, right here. Poof! A pile of Jasmine dust for him to sweep out of his gorgeous kitchen.

“Nice to meet you, Jasmine. I’m Lothario Brucke. You can call me Loth. Why were you in the forest, my forest, if you don’t enjoy it? Do you know what Grimm Axe Lumber Company is doing?”

“Well, Loth, my job is to walk around and spray paint the trunks that match the dimensions they gave me. I was promised it was easy. ‘A walk in the park.’ But it’s not, and I hate it. But, it’s the job with the best and fastest pay. I took out loans with some loan sharks to pay for my mom’s cancer treatments, and now the money is due, and my mom is dead. So…” I shrug. What else can I say? I keep my eyes wide, trying to keep them from tearing up. So tired of crying.

“I see. I’m sorry for your loss.” He sighs, and he looks sad, thoughtful. Thick eyebrows furrow together. He takes the bowls to the sink and quickly washes them while I stand there like a lost clown. His back muscles flex with each movement. Man? Monster? Troll? All seem applicable.

“Why did you roar at me and scare me? And what did I run into?” I ask his back. Maybe I’m braver when I can’t see his fangs and the flexing muscles of his neck and arms.

At that, I see his back shake a little as he laughs. He looks at me over his shoulder. “My job is to protect the forest. Grimm Axe has been threatening these lands for years. We are sworn enemies. I’m trapped on this side of that invisible boundary you hit; helpless to watch them claim my forest. Seeing their logo on your clothing—I lost control in my anger, like when a bull sees red. I don’t take kindly to people trying to cut down my trees.”

“Sorry,” I whisper. It’s just a job, I tell myself, though I’m ashamed at my lack of ethics for the Earth.

“Thanks. And as far as what you ran into. Well, let’s just say Beastly Falls is a really unique town, with a mind of her own.”

“Beastly Falls? That wasn’t on the map.” I put my hands on my hips. Is he messing with me?

“Yeah, we aren’t on any map. We’re cursed.” He turns fully around, leaning his backside against the counter, and grins a grin so full of teeth, it makes me freeze, just briefly.

Cursed. Great. Though really, with the last year of my life, I feel like I’ve already been cursed, and this is just the cursed cherry on top of an already cursed sundae. As preposterous as all of this sounds, I believe him. I believe the troll who tried to chase me away from the forest, and then brought me back to his home to…what? Feed me? Take care of me? As bizarre as this is, no one has taken care of me in so long. Mom was sick for three years before the cancer took her. I’ve been the one taking care of her—then, and now with the bills. The loan sharks are waiting. I feel so sad, so wrung out of love and hope. Even if he does scare me, maybe it’s better than being alone.

“I can’t really afford to spend the night in a hotel, so it would be better if I could get home tonight. If—it’s not too much trouble?” I hate the way my voice sounds, pleading and unsure. I hate how the word ‘home’ sounds to me—hollow and broken, like the rest of me. My studio pre-furnished apartment that I’m at risk of losing isn’t exactly cozy.

He—Loth—walks away from the sink and stands before me. Towering over me, bare-chested, long black hair loose around his shoulders, fangs white against his gray skin, is a lot. Like, butterflies are threatening to erupt out of me while at the same time alarm bells are sounding in my brain, and once again, I don’t know where in space and time I am.

“It’s a long walk in the dark if you want me to take you to Red’s Bed and Breakfast tonight. I’m sure she won’t mind.” He pushes off the counter and opens a drawer to pull out a flashlight. Before I’ve thought it through, my head shakes no.

“I’m sure your forest is great at night. But no, I don’t want to walk it at night. Please, just drive me home. Has to be twenty miles, tops.” In reality, I have no idea how far I am from home. Stupid map.

“I don’t own a car. No need.” He shrugs, like this is normal.

“Is there a bus?” Hopeful, I know the answer before I ask the question. He shakes his head and smiles a sad smile.

“Like I said, we’re cursed. No one leaves. No one comes in. Until recently. Listen, I’ve got a spare bedroom for you. You’ll be safe here. I’ll take you to Red’s Bed and Breakfast in the morning.” Now he shrugs, a take it or leave it look. Though every muscle in his arms looks tense, as if he’s ready to grab me if I try to run.

I gulp, close my eyes, look inside myself. With no visual of his troll-like monstrousness, I replay his words, his tone of voice. Yes, I trust his words.

I let out the breath I was holding as I say okay.