The road ended where the forest began.
I noticed it the second my GPS went silent. No warning. No "recalculating." Just a blank screen and a narrow strip of asphalt cutting through towering pines. Even the air felt different – cooler, heavier, like it pressed against my lungs instead of filling them.
I slowed down.
A sign appeared a few seconds later.
BLACKWOOD RIDGE
Private Property. Authorized Access Only.
I frowned and pulled over to the shoulder. According to the contract, this was the place. A private community. Isolated. Quiet. Temporary work, decent pay, no questions asked.
The kind of job you take when you're out of options.
I exhaled, got out of the car, and shut the door a little harder than I meant to.
The forest was too quiet.
No birds. No insects. Just the faint sound of wind moving through branches high above. It made the hairs on my arms lift. The feeling wasn't fear exactly. It was… awareness. Like my body knew something my brain hadn't caught up to yet.
"You're being ridiculous," I muttered.
I climbed back in, drove past the sign, and followed the road deeper into the trees.
Ten minutes later, the forest opened up into a clearing.
My foot eased off the gas without me thinking about it.
The settlement didn't look like any "private community" I'd ever imagined. There were no bright signs, no manicured lawns, no cute little mailboxes lined up in a row. Just dark wooden buildings spaced out with intention, like whoever built the place understood exactly how much distance people needed from each other.
It didn't feel abandoned.
It felt claimed.
I parked near the largest building – something that looked like an administrative lodge and stepped out with my bag slung over my shoulder. The moment my feet hit the ground, a strange pressure slid along my spine.
Like invisible eyes locking onto me.
My breath caught. I forced myself to keep walking.
The front door of the lodge opened before I reached it.
He stepped out as if he'd been waiting.
I stopped so fast my bag strap cut into my shoulder.
He was tall. Not just tall – tall enough that my brain automatically filed him under problem. Broad shoulders under a dark jacket. Solid frame. Not bulky, not lean. Controlled.
Dangerously controlled.
Dark hair, pulled back loosely, a few strands escaping around his temples. A sharp face with hard lines and no softness. A man built out of restraint.
And then his eyes landed on me.
They were dark – deeper than brown, closer to something cold and endless. When he looked at me, it wasn't like being seen.
It was like being measured.
My heart stumbled.
Heat flushed up my neck for no reason I could explain. My stomach tightened in a way that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the sudden, humiliating awareness that I had a body and it was reacting.
His expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
His jaw tightened so hard I saw the muscle jump.
For one sharp second, he looked angry.
Then it vanished, swallowed by a blank, unreadable calm.
"You're late," he said.
His voice was low. Too low. It slid under my skin and settled somewhere in my chest.
I blinked once, then forced my spine straight. "I'm right on time. According to the contract."
I reached for my phone on instinct, even though I already knew the GPS wouldn't work out here. His gaze dropped to my hands, then back to my face – slow, deliberate, like he was cataloging details he didn't want.
"You shouldn't have come alone," he said.
That didn't sound like concern.
It sounded like a warning.
"No one told me I needed an escort." I lifted my chin. "The directions were clear."
Silence stretched between us.
The air felt thick now, charged, like the moment right before thunder cracks the sky. I became aware of how close he was standing – close enough that I could smell him.
Clean. Sharp. And beneath it, something wild. Something that made my lungs want more air.
I hated that my body noticed.
I hated that it liked it.
My breath hitched.
His nostrils flared like he caught the change.
Something flickered behind his eyes – fast, violent, almost… hungry.
His hand curled at his side, fingers flexing like he was stopping himself from doing something.
For a second, I thought he might reach for me.
Instead, he stepped back abruptly, creating distance like it physically hurt him.
"Name," he said curtly.
"Mara." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Mara Hale."
His gaze sharpened, slicing through me.
The silence that followed was heavier, like the forest had leaned in to listen.
Finally, he spoke. "Kael."
He didn't offer a last name.
Something told me he didn't need to.
"I'm here for the administrative position," I said, clinging to professionalism like a life raft. "Short-term. Six months."
"I know why you're here."
The way he said it made my skin prickle again, and this time it wasn't just nerves.
Kael turned and walked toward the building like the conversation was over, like my presence was a fact he had to deal with and nothing more.
He didn't look back.
He didn't have to.
My feet moved after him anyway.
The interior was warm, smelling of wood and something unfamiliar – something that didn't belong in a normal house. My body registered it before my brain did. My heart rate ticked up like I'd run a flight of stairs.
The door closed behind us with a solid click that echoed too loudly.
My chest tightened.
Kael moved to a desk at the far end of the room and placed both hands on its surface as if grounding himself. He didn't look at me at first, and I found myself watching his shoulders instead, the way they rose and fell with his breathing.
Like he was trying to keep it controlled.
"You'll stay in the east housing," he said. "You won't wander. You won't enter restricted areas. And you will not ask questions about things that don't concern you."
I blinked. "That wasn't in the contract."
"It is now."
The words hit me like a slap.
"Excuse me?" I said, sharper than I intended.
His head snapped up.
For the first time, I saw something raw flash across his face – something dangerous and barely restrained.
"Listen carefully," Kael said, voice quiet in a way that made my skin tighten. "This community is not like the places you're used to. The rules exist for a reason."
"And I'm just supposed to follow them blindly?" I shot back. "Because you say so?"
His eyes darkened.
"Yes."
One word.
It landed between us like a challenge.
My pulse thudded in my throat, but I refused to look away. I'd dealt with men who tried to intimidate. I'd dealt with bosses who mistook their title for permission.
This felt different.
This felt like standing too close to the edge of something and realizing the fall would be fatal.
Kael held my gaze for a long moment.
Then he looked away, jaw clenched, as if my refusal to bend had cost him something.
"This was a mistake," he muttered.
"What was?" I asked, even though I already knew.
His mouth tightened. "You being here."
The words should have made me angry.
Instead, a sharp, unexpected ache opened in my chest, like he'd pressed on a bruise I didn't know I had.
"If you don't want me here," I said, forcing my voice calm, "you shouldn't have approved the contract."
"I didn't."
I froze.
My breath stalled. "Then who did?"
Kael didn't answer. He straightened, and the shift was immediate – control sliding back over him like armor. Like whatever had almost cracked between us had never existed.
"You'll be shown to your quarters," he said. "We'll talk later."
"About what?"
His gaze dropped to my mouth, before he could stop himself.
Heat pooled low in my stomach, sudden and humiliating.
The air changed again. Tightened.
Kael's throat bobbed when he swallowed.
His voice came out rough when he spoke. "About whether you should stay."
I should have been relieved by the idea of leaving.
Instead, something deep inside me twisted at the thought, sharp and wrong, like I was already attached to something I didn't understand.
Kael turned away, and I caught the movement of his hands, fists clenched so tight his knuckles looked pale.
For the first time, I wondered if the danger here wasn't the place at all.
But the man standing in front of me.
And the invisible line I had crossed the moment I drove past that sign.
Because the way he looked at me –
Like he wanted me gone.
Like he wanted me closer.
Like wanting me at all was something he couldn't afford.