by K. C. Crowne
“I’ll be fine,” he said gruffly, and I recoiled a little as he shut me down.
Viktor led me to the bedroom and all but tucked me in. The care he took to make sure I was alright countered his crude language and blunt speech.
I wished he would stay in the room with me. I didn’t want to be alone. But I wasn’t going to ask him again. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want to sleep in the same room as me. No need to be turned down twice in one night.
“Sleep well, Malen kiy,” he murmured and closed the door behind him.
Maybe he meant it condescendingly, but I didn’t mind him calling me by the little nickname. In fact, I liked it.
I reached for my phone, which still had no signal. Ryan had to be worried about me – I should have been back in the office this afternoon. I liked being caught in this absurd fantasy, so far removed from reality, but I had to get back to my life. Tomorrow, I would ask Viktor to take me to the truck, or to the closest town if the truck was a lost cause. Torn clothes or no, I couldn’t stay with him.
I closed my eyes and drifted off. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I became aware of a large body dropping itself onto the mattress next to me. He stayed on top of the sheets, but he was here. I smiled into the darkness and closed my eyes.
When I woke the next morning, the sun fell through thin curtains, giving the room a soft glow. Viktor was still asleep next to me, snoring lightly. Carefully, I climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the little bathroom. It had nothing but a toilet and a shower head. There wasn’t even a shower curtain. I didn’t have a toothbrush, so I put toothpaste on my finger and did the best I could.
Quietly, I opened the bathroom door again, peeking at Viktor, who still lay on the bed. His large body was stretched out, one arm thrown over his face. God, he was incredible. He had muscles for days and tattoos everywhere. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so I could see the tattoos curling around his neck and down one arm. It disappeared behind his back, and I was curious about the rest of it.
He shifted his arm and looked at me through hooded eyes, surprising me. “You’re awake.”
I nodded and walked to the bed. “You came to sleep in the room.”
“The chair is not made for sleeping.”
I smiled. “I bet.” He pushed up and winced, reaching for his shoulder, but he didn’t touch it. I frowned. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Let me see.”
When I put my hand on his shoulder, he tensed. After a moment, he relaxed a little. I nudged him gently, and he turned so I could see. The cut on his shoulder was an angry red, the jagged edges inflamed. Cut was the wrong word. His skin had been ripped away by a blunt object of some kind; the gash was ugly.
“You need to clean that,” I said. “Or see a doctor or something.”
“Nyet.”
He was so hot when he spoke Russian. He only dropped words here and there, but oh, my. I cleared my throat and focused. “It’s pretty deep,” I said. “How did it happen?”
“Mudslides can be a bitch.” He grinned at me as if this was a feat. But boys thought wounds and scars were trophies.
“Oh,” I said, realizing what had happened. “You got hurt saving me.” Like in the stories, I’d been a damsel in distress. It all sounded very romantic, but he’d been injured on my account.
Viktor only grunted. I wanted to argue with him about getting help but decided against it. He was a big boy. A very big boy. He could take care of himself.
“I need to go home,” I said after a moment.
Viktor frowned. “How?”
“I drove up here in a truck.”
“That’s long gone.”
I shook my head. “It can’t be. Where did you put my clothes?”
Viktor reached for a shirt and pulled it over his head, not even pulling a face while he did. When he looked at me, his expression was sceptical. “You’re not putting those back on.”
“I’m not very well leaving with a t-shirt on, am I?” I asked.
Viktor grunted. Something dark flickered across his face. Grunts and groans, almost like an animal, seemed to be his first language.
“Where are they?” I demanded.
Viktor sighed and stomped to the wardrobe. He took a folded stack of clothing out from the bottom and handed it to me. When I lifted my jeans, I realized what he’d been saying. They really were torn. But I needed clothes in order to leave.
I walked to the bathroom to change and saw Viktor follow me with his eyes until I closed the door. I looked at my clothes and frowned. They weren’t only torn, they were bloody. I could see the bandages Viktor had administered peeking through the rips. I looked in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. It was getting oily; I needed to wash it soon.
What I really needed was to get home and have a hot shower. Home seemed very far away from Viktor and his little cabin in the mountain. I didn’t even know exactly where we were.
“Are you ready?” Viktor asked when I stepped out of the bathroom. He had pulled on jeans that clung to his hips the way I wanted to cling to his hips. He wore a jacket, too, the one I’d worn when I’d sat outside with him yesterday.
“You’re taking me?” I asked, surprised.
“Might as well. It won’t help if you get lost on top of everything else.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
He walked to the cabin door without a sound and opened it, holding it for me. What a gentleman. As soon as we stepped outside, I gazed at the beauty around me. The trees were so tall, the canopy of leaves high above our heads. Birds chirped in the branches above us, and the light created thin shafts that reached the ground, which was wet with rain. It looked like it had been raining all night.
“This weather is crazy,” I commented as we walked.
“It’s the beginning of all your problems.”
“You are the master of understatements and grunts,” I commented. He ignored me, and I clenched my teeth. Good looking or not, he was kind of annoying.
As we walked through the trees, I watched Viktor. He moved through the forest as if he was one with it, silent, careful. If I hadn’t known he was right here with me, if he was following me between the trees, I wouldn’t have seen him. Despite his size, he moved quickly, lithely. He reminded me of a predator, stalking his prey through the trees.
I wasn’t nearly as graceful. I stepped on every possible twig that could snap, stumbled over the roots of trees that seemed to lift just as I passed them. I slipped on loose sand so that he had to catch me, which he did, every time. His thick arm would wrap around my body, or his large hand would catch mine. And every time, I wished he would never let go.
How did he know the way through the forest? If I had to find my way, I would get lost and wander for days. But Viktor walked with a purpose, as if he knew exactly where he was.
“There,” he said, pointing a thick finger when he stopped.
I looked through the trees and saw nothing. “What am I looking at?”
“The place where your truck was parked.”
I blinked. This couldn’t be right. I looked around, frowning. The ground was uneven, with fallen branches and logs and other debris scattered about. I’d parked in a small clearing where the ground was flat.
Viktor took another step forward and I followed him, looking at the devastation that stretched out in front of me. I didn’t recognize the place. The trail I’d followed to get there had washed away. The entire mountainside looked different. Trees had been yanked from the ground like weeds, their roots sticking up in the air like fingers reaching for the sky. Flat ground was now puckered, and the smell of raw earth filled my nostrils.
“It won’t be easy getting down this mountainside,” Viktor said, indicating the lack of a road. “It might be a while.”
“Will they come clean it up?”
Viktor barked a laugh. “No one cares about this part of the woods.”
But if no one came to clean it up… how w
as I going to get out of there? And where the hell was my truck?
As we stood, looking at the carnage, rain started falling. At first, it was just a rustle in the leaves above, the sound beautiful, but the water didn’t reach us. As it penetrated the leaves, though, the water splashed on my face, wetting my hair and dripping on my clothes. I shivered, suddenly cold. The rips in my clothing did nothing to keep me warm.
“Come,” Viktor said. “We need to get back to shelter.”
“Is there no way I can get home?”
Viktor shook his head. “The main route back to Grizzly Falls was washed away.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s my business to know,” he stated. He turned and walked up the slope.
I scrambled after him. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the truth,” he told me. “The mountain road is impassable for now.”
“But I need to get home!” Thunder rumbled above me, scaring me a little. I actually ducked, then looked up at the menacing sky. “Whoa!”
“Come, Malen kiy. You don’t want to be caught out here in a storm.”
As he said it, the rain fell harder, falling around us like there were no leaves blocking the water from above. The forest disappeared in the torrential downpour. The water came down in sheets, changing the scenery so that nothing looked like it had before.
I followed Viktor, trusting that he knew where to go. Because I had no idea.
When we returned to the cabin, we were both soaked to the bone. Viktor opened the door and let me get out of the rain first before he ducked in through the doorway behind me. I turned around and he was very close to me. I had stopped too soon, and he’d rushed to get in out of the rain. Our bodies were so close together, I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His chest rose and fell as he looked down at me, and his eyes were filled with things I didn’t know how to put to words.
Viktor lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. His caress was always so gentle. I shivered when he touched me.
“You should get out of your wet clothes,” he murmured. His voice was a deep baritone, caressing my skin. It made me want to press my ear against his chest to listen to the sound rumbling through me. I wanted his hands to skim over my skin instead.
I wanted him to help me peel the soaked clothing from my body.
But his words broke the spell, and I took a small step away from him, both for the sake of being polite, and for my own sanity.
“How will I get home?” I asked again. My voice was breathy. I swallowed, trying to pull myself together.
“You’ll have to ride out the storm here with me,” Viktor said. “It won’t last forever.”
I nodded. I didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere else to go. And the idea of being stranded here with him wasn’t altogether a bad one. Even if the storm did last forever…
“I’ll go change,” I said, jerking myself into action lest I stand there staring at him like a fool again.
On the way to the bathroom I grabbed my phone. The battery was still charged, which surprised me. I didn’t use it - without signal there wasn’t much I could do on it. I didn’t want to be rude and make Viktor feel like I didn’t feel welcome. I was grateful for his hospitality, but I was starting to worry about checking in with the people who expected me home by now. My mom would be going crazy with worry.
While I was locked in the bathroom, towelling off my hair, I tried to dial out. I needed to speak to my mom, or someone who could let her know I was okay. And someone needed to know where I was.
The call didn’t go through. The no-signal tone was loud in my ear. I sighed and lowered the phone. I typed a text and sent it, hoping if there was some kind of signal at any point, the message would go through.
Viktor
She wanted to go into town, but I couldn’t let her leave. No way in fucking hell. Not only was it dangerous out there as the earth continuing to rearrange itself every couple of days, but I didn’t know who she might tell about me.
When a woman met a mysterious man in the mountains, she would tell her girlfriends about it, if no one else. There were too many pieces to pick up. The missing truck. Insurance claims. Hospital visits if it turned out she wasn’t okay for whatever reasons.
And the moment anyone got wind of the tattooed Russian who lived in the mountain, it was my ass on the line. Maksim kept a finger on the pulse. He would be looking for me, and he wasn’t an idiot. He knew I wasn’t in Russia anymore. He might have looked for me there, threatened the right people, bribed a few more. He would have found out where I’d crossed the border.
If Maksim was anything, he was resourceful.
I couldn’t let Angela out of my sight, and as long as I could use the mountainside disaster as a reason, she wouldn’t give me too much trouble about it. She was feisty as fuck, and unless I told her the truth about why I needed her to keep quiet about it, she would do as she damn well pleased.
She just didn’t understand why that would be the worst thing she could ever do to me. And I wasn’t going to tell her.
The last thing I wanted was for her to find out what a monster I was. When she looked at me, there wasn’t hatred in her eyes. In fact, it was more akin to affection. Although that was just my fucked-up mind twisting shit to make it work for me. Because if someone like Angela could like me, I couldn’t be that bad, could I?
I was that bad, though.
“What are we going to do about food when it’s raining like this?” Angela asked, coming from the bathroom where she’d changed. She wore my t-shirt again. It was so big on her it looked like a dress. A fucking sexy dress that I wanted to tear off with my teeth.
“I have a few things,” I said and walked to the pantry. In it, I had dried fruit, jerky, and more canned beans and sweet corn that I’d bought at the store. I didn’t go into town all that often, but sometimes I went to Snowmass Village, a small town close to Grizzly Falls, for provisions. “And there’s plenty of bird left over.”
“You have chips?” Angela asked, incredulous.
“And chocolate, if you like.”
She laughed. The sound shot right to my core, and I had to talk down another erection or look like an asshole with a bulge in my pants because she was laughing about food.
“And yesterday, you killed a turk—”
“Pheasant.”
“Pheasant. I thought there were no luxuries around here.”
I shrugged. “Who says pheasant isn’t a luxury?”
Her eyes twinkled at my little joke, and I loved her response. Everything about her made me smile. It was a strange sensation; one I was unused to.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Chips, to be honest,” Angela said. “But I shouldn’t.”
“I have dried fruit.”
She pulled a face. “I guess that would be better for my waistline.”
I frowned and looked at her body. Her fucking perfect body. Her edible body. Her fuckable body. “What’s wrong with your waistline?”
She blushed lightly. Her rosy cheeks were beautiful. “I could lose a few pounds, if I’m honest.”
“No, Angel.” She didn’t correct me, tell me to call her Angela. “You are perfect.”
She blushed bright red. I fucking loved it. I turned and reached for the chips in the pantry. When I did, a sharp pain shot into my shoulder. I felt the scab pull open and blood seep out. When I touched the back of my shirt, it was drenched in red.
“You can’t just leave that, you know,” Angela commented dryly.
Fuck, she’d seen me wince. “What’s the alternative? I can’t reach back there to stitch it up.”
Angela paled a little, the redness in her cheeks from her blush draining away. “You stitch yourself up?”
I nodded, wondering why she looked ill.
“Oh, God,” she said and pressed her hand to her mouth. “I can’t do this.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Blood.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t do well with blood.”
Ah. I didn’t understand people who couldn’t deal with blood. It only added to her purity, though. To her innocence. I’d lived my whole life with blood, spilled a metric fuck ton of it myself. To see her shy away from it was refreshing. Endearing.
There was no end to how this woman surprised me.
“We’re going to a doctor,” Angela declared.
“No fucking way.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. I’d turned to face her, and now that she couldn’t see the blood, she didn’t look like she was going to keel over.
“What is your problem? You don’t have to be the big macho guy all the time. You have a hole in your shoulder,” she said, emphasizing the word hole. “If you don’t get that fixed, it might get infected. Ever heard of septicaemia?”
I grunted a negative sound as I stared at her. Of all the shit I've had to deal with in life, diseases weren’t one of them. “I never even get a fucking cold. I don’t need a doctor.”
“It’s blood poisoning. From terrible infections. It can kill you.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. She was trying to look out for me. It was sweet, but I wasn’t going to a doctor. They would ask my name and other questions I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to be in the system.
“Where do you go for your supplies?” Angela asked.
“Snowmass.” It was a small village where most of the employees who worked at the ski resorts commuted from.
“Bet they have a clinic there.”
“Bet we’re not going.”
Angela’s lovely face contorted into a scowl. “It’s not all big and strong of you not to go, you know. If you get sick because you refuse to look after yourself, that’s not manly. It’s stupid.”
Was she… challenging my manhood? I lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t go to the doctor.”
“Well, I can’t stitch you up and you keep reopening it,” she complained, glaring at me. “It’s ridiculous. Go to the damn doctor.”