by Angela Foxxe
“It must get lonely up here. I never see you in town anymore. How come?”
She gritted her teeth. “I like to be alone.”
He nodded and smiled. “I can understand that.” His eyes passed over the towel that hid the pup. That’s the second time he’s looked at it.
“Have you heard or found anything today? Anything at all could be useful to us.” That feeling of things being wrong spiked in her gut. What was he doing?
“Aren’t you going to call your friends for help?”
He chuckled. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” His voice took on a thick tone. In a flash, he pulled his jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt leaving him bare-chested. The pup growled from the corner.
“You should have left him in the woods Monique. There was no reason for you to get involved in this. I had plans for a tasty morsel like you.”
She didn’t know why the man wanted the pup, or why he took his shirt off and looked at her like she was his next meal, and she didn’t care. She pulled the .45 out and squeezed the trigger in one swift motion. It would be easier to explain his death than hers. The pistol’s earth shattering roar filled the cabin as she squeezed off three rounds into his center mass. Petrov rocked back against the counter. Not down, he tore the radio off the wall and threw it at her.
She hadn’t expected him to live after the first round, let alone three. The radio slammed into her shoulder. She grunted as she fell backwards on the bed. Before her back touched the bed, he was there. Hands pinned her wrists down so tight her fingers went numb and the pistol fell out. His bloody torso was inches from her. She watched in horror as the wounds healed, the bullets fell out with a clink. In seconds, it was like he never was hurt.
“Now,” he said in his strange voice, “I’m going to fuck you till you beg me to stop, then I’m going to eat you alive. You should have given me that cup of coffee.”
She spat in his face. His lips curled up in anger. His next word was lost in a snarl. He looked down to shake the pup off his leg. The poor thing flew across the cabin with a squeak. He put both her wrists in one hand and held them above her head.
Monique squirmed under him, but his grip was like a vice. She couldn’t get any traction, and he weighed far more than he looked. When she tried to buck him off, he just laughed.
“Struggle all you want. I like fighters, they’re all the more sweet a conquest.” His free hand ripped her shirt and bra off, the straps cut into her painfully before snapping.
“No!” she screamed. “No!”
His hand fell on her large breasts, his laugh filled her ears. He leaned down to kiss her neck. The door banged open form the wind and he ignored it. His fingers pulled on her tits and he tried to force his mouth over hers.
Large hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him backward off of her. She jumped up the second she was free. Someone, she couldn’t see who, held him around his neck and under one arm, with his legs around his torso. They both growled and screamed obscenities as they struggled.
Fuck this. Her pistol wasn’t hard to find, she put a boot in his torso and stuck the pistol to his temple.
“No wait,” he screamed.
“Burn in hell.” The gun roared, splattering his brains over the tile floor.
*
Carver didn’t move. He lay on the floor holding the remains of Petrov’s body. She didn’t just fire once, she pulled the trigger until the slide locked back. Intentional or not, she killed a wolf. He sighed inwardly, The poor human, she doesn’t know the world she’s stepped into. Once his pack found out, they would never let her live, regardless of the circumstances. She stood above him breathing heavily. Her eyes looked trapped. Carver’s eyes were on hers, as tempting as her body was to look at, he didn’t want her to think he was another would-be-rapist.
She certainly was a world of difference than the natives of Vermont, or the tourists even. Her skin, while not black, had a smooth satiny look to it and was far darker than Carver’s. She was fit, for sure, he could make out the hints of muscle in her abs, something that was particularly difficult for women. The thing he was most drawn to, though, were her sea green eyes. Carver had never seen the ocean, but he imagined it was the same color as her eyes.
She wasn’t moving to cover herself, almost as if she expected to wake up. Carver carefully pushed the remains of the other wolf off of him. He held his hands out in front of him.
“It’s okay, I’m not here to hurt you.” He said each word with care. It snapped her eyes back to the present. She looked down at the gun, the slide locked open, the chamber empty. Then back at him. He could see she was in shock. He remembered well the first time he was forced to kill a human. It wasn’t a memory he cherished.
“My name’s Carver, I’m going to get up now, okay?” He moved his hands to help him stand. Startled she took a step back. He got to his knees and went no higher.
“What’s your name?” He could see her eyes clearing, control coming back over her face. Her cheeks flared red and her smell completely changed. She was going to be okay.
“Close the door before we freeze to death,” she muttered. He moved to the door slowly. He kept his back to her, trusting that she wasn’t reloading. When he heard the sound of fabric on skin he knew she trusted him, at least a little. He secured the door shut. His entrance ruined the pitiful lock that normally held it closed, so he jammed a bit of wood to keep it shut amidst the wind that picked up with every second.
Outside the window, the visibility dropped to almost nothing. He could feel the pressure changing and the storm coming. It was going to be big. He felt something rub against his leg.
“Kirk,” he whispered. He dropped to his knees and hugged his son to his chest. He couldn’t hold back the tears. His little pup licked his face and made squeaking noises.
“I thought he was a wolf pup, but I guess he’s your dog?” Carver bristled at the unintended slight.
“He is mine,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I thank you for caring for him. I thought I would never see him again.” The pup yipped at him, not a bark, but more of a high pitched cough. The dark-skinned woman smiled at that.
“I didn’t get your name,” he said politely, scratching Kirk’s ears. There wasn’t a scratch on him. How did he survive the avalanche and not get hurt?
“Monique, uh, yeah, just Monique.” Carver smiled, her voice sounded soft and sweet. It hid a lot of pain though. He could understand that.
“Thank you for helping me with... with... this,” she finally said lamely. “Whatever this is.”
“I’m sorry for what he tried to do. I hope you understand we’re not all like that.” He didn’t know how much she knew already, and he didn’t want to be the one to fill in the blanks for her.
“Right, not all men are rapists, just the ones I meet.” He cocked an eyebrow up and started to speak when she continued, “Why are you naked?”
He forgot that he wore nothing. The wolf couldn’t come as long as the barb in his leg injected its poison into his system. Finding Kirk seemed far more important than clothes. If he was going to stay human though, he would need protection.
“I was in an avalanche, it’s when I lost Kirk.” He suppressed the memory of Sienna, he couldn’t grieve for her now, though he wanted to. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream her name, but he couldn’t.
“I must have lost my clothes then.” The cabin wasn’t huge, and the smell of the dead body already filled the air. We can’t stay here.
“I’m really sorry, Monique, but we have to go.” She looked blankly at him, then the door.
“You want to go out in a snowstorm naked?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she was right, he needed clothes. Petrov’s discarded shirt and jacket would help, but his pants weren’t fit to be worn, and his feet were too small.
“I don’t suppose you have any men’s boots around?”
He pulled on the shirt and jacket, feeling awkward standing in her kitchen, naked from the waist
down. To her credit, she didn’t look at him. But that would change, it was why he needed to go. He couldn’t be around her for much longer before his hormones kicked in.
She dug through an old Army foot locker in the corner; it looked vintage to him. She came out with a pair of boots and pants that looked like they might fit. It was unusual for him to find clothes that fit, simply because he was bulky. Six feet tall and two hundred pounds of muscle made it hard to find pants to wear. Apparently though, the man who wore these previously was of similar stature.
“My uncle, well, great uncle, he carried ammo on the beaches of Iwo Jima. That man could lift a car. You have a similar build.” She answered the question his face asked. Carver pulled the pants on; they were old, but still in good shape. The boots were a little newer, not much, and they were well worn. It would be enough for him to get to a cave and get this barb out.
He winced as the pants pulled on the dart. Monique noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was hurt in the avalanche, nothing to worry about. Thank you for your hospitality, but I really have to go. You’re going to want to store that,” he pointed at the body, “somewhere air-tight.” She nodded.
He scooped up Kirk on his way to the door. The little pup whined at him. “No,” he said quietly. If Monique thought it odd he spoke to the wolf, she didn’t say anything.
“Well, thanks again for helping him.” The door opened easy enough. The wind blustered and snow whipped in every direction. The pup whined some more.
“Yeah, you too.” She sounded lost, broken.
You know what they’ll do to her. You’re leaving her to die. He couldn’t help her, he had to focus on Kirk. No one else mattered. He was a dozen steps from the cabin when Kirk started squirming.
“Hold still boy, we can’t help her, no one can.” The pup didn’t agree. He pushed with his hind legs and surged over Carver’s shoulders. Carver sighed. The little pup was insistent.
CHAPTER FOUR
Monique stared blankly at the body on the floor. Her mind was slow to respond; she couldn’t form thoughts or take action. Everything seemed like it was in molasses around her. The strange naked man who saved her left almost as fast as he arrived. Now there was a body to deal with, a door to fix, and from the sound of it, the storm raged on outside.
She looked down at herself, the white turtle neck she pulled over her head didn’t feel like much protection. Not against the elements or anything else. At least Carver turned out to be a decent guy, he didn’t try to take advantage of the situation, not like... No. Full stop. Fix the door, hide the body, survive. Focus.
The little pup suddenly careened through the door, his wet paws slid on the tile as he tried to negotiate a corner. He tumbled over to land in a pile at her feet. Carver came in right behind him.
“I’m sorry, he doesn’t want me to leave you and this is his way of telling me.”
Uh huh, sure. She started to think twice about him being a “good guy.” She looked around for her gun; it lay on the bed where she dropped it. Almost as if he read her mind, Carver lifted his hands in the air.
“Listen, I know this has been a strange day, but Kirk is right. If I leave you here, you’ll die.” That cleared her mind. Her eyes narrowed as she made her way to the bed. He made no move to stop her.
“That is of limited use, as I’m sure you realize.” The vision of Petrov on top of her, the bullets extruding from his flesh to drop on the floor, flashed through her mind. She knelt beside the bed, and sure enough, three .45 slugs lay in little pools of blood on the floor.
“What was he?” She couldn’t shake the feeling that her nightmare wasn’t over. I came here to escape this, dammit. It’s not fair.
“I can explain, honestly, but we have to go. They will be drawn to his death and we don’t want to be here when they get here.”
Monique ran her hands over her face. This was too much. Too much weirdness, and yet something strangely familiar, mixed at once. She looked at the body, the pup in the door with his big yellow eyes looking at her, and Carver. Something about him told her she could trust him. But she made that mistake before.
“Listen, seconds matter, get what you need to survive, but we have to go,” he implored her. His tone decided it; he seemed genuinely afraid. Not the typical “trust me baby” she was used to.
“Okay, give me a sec.” If they were going out in a storm, she wanted her full kit. The pack lay against the wall almost fully loaded. She stuffed the pistol, the spare box of ammo, and her extra first aid kit. What am I doing?
What you always do—survive. In less than five minutes, she stood at the door, ready to go. Carver scooped up the little pup and headed out into the storm. Monique followed along, lowering her goggles so the snow wouldn’t blind her. The fresh powder was already an inch thick, and with the weight of her full kit on her back, she had to take each step carefully.
I must be in shock, she realized when she didn’t know where they were going. They just left the safety of a cabin to head blindly out into a snowstorm. Monique looked back over her shoulder; even if she turned around, she wasn’t certain she could find her way back to the cabin. With no other options for the moment, she trudged forward following the man who saved her.
Over the next hour, the weather only got worse. Blustering snow turned into a full on gale. Even with her parka, she couldn’t stay out for long.
“Hey,” she yelled to Carver. “Hey, we need shelter.” She wasn’t sure he heard her until he turned his head and nodded. He pointed off to his left, and started walking that way. Monique 100followed, the ground turning up hill. God, that’s all I need, go up hill and get exhausted.
He didn’t go far. Monique blinked and he was gone. The snow swirled around her as she took a tentative step where he was. The snow parted to reveal a cave entrance. Better than freezing to death.
She pulled a road flare from her pocket, struck it, and tossed it into the cave. Red light illuminated the walls that disappeared deeper in. At the very edge of the light, she made out Carver’s form. He waved her forward. She trusted him this far, and he had saved her. Something about him awakened her, made the last seven years fade.
She found him in a small room off the main cave. It was big enough for four people to lay down in, with a little shoot in the roof that sounded like it went to the outside. She picked up her flare and put it in the center of the cave before she sat down.
“There’s no wood,” Monique realized. She could start a fire, but without a fire source it would do her no good.
“We’ll be safe in here, the wind...”
“It’s not the wind, it’s like five degrees below zero in here. I’m gonna freeze to death without a fire.” She was genuinely alarmed, at least when she was moving her own body heat kept her warm along with her parka. Now, though, out of the wind, there was a whole new danger. The only position that presented itself wasn’t one she cared for. Her survival instinct kicked in though.
“Take your jacket off,” she said. She unzipped her parka and shed it next to her pack. Her body shivered from the sudden cold. In her pack, she dug out her sleeping bag, it was rated for the temperature she expected to encounter, and she never thought she would be stupid enough to go out on the mountain in the winter. With the bag laid out, she stripped down to her underwear and crawled in. She held it open for him. He didn’t move.
“In about five minutes this cave is going to be an icebox, if we’re not both in here to share body heat, we’re both dead.”
“You don’t understand...”
“Carver, god knows why, but I trusted you, get your ass in here,” she growled. He moved. The sleeping bag was big, but it wasn’t meant for two. Carver slid in next to her, his hard body gliding down the length of hers sending little lightning bolts into her. Parts of her that hadn’t felt anything in years began to wake as if from a long slumber.
“You’re warm,” she murmured as she tucked her arms into his chest. Monique felt emotions sti
rring in her she thought long buried. Something about this mysterious man brought out the wounds in her heart.
“Monique, what happened to you, why are you up here?” he asked, as his arms wrapped around her to draw her in tight. The bag was suddenly very warm for her. She could feel her wall coming down. She wanted to tell him things she didn’t want to tell her self, things she hid from these last years.
“I was in a hospital,” she heard herself say, not believing that it was she that spoke. “I’d just had a baby. My parents were there with me. The father... well, he didn’t stick around.”Carver pushed the hair back from her face, the tender gesture sent goose bumps up and down her skin.
“You’re cold,” he murmured, he brushed his lips against her forehead. Monique let out a long sigh. “Go on,” he urged.
“We lived in New Orleans, and there was this big storm. I didn’t find out till afterwards what they called it. The hospital evacuated, but somehow I got left behind with my baby.” The tears started rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably. “They wheeled us into this waiting area and then left us. I kept waiting for them to come back, then the flood waters came and...” She couldn’t hold back the sobs.
“I tried Carver, I tried so hard, I couldn’t stop the water from...” He didn’t need her to say any more, the sadness in her heart told the story.
“It wasn’t your fault, you did everything you could. Sometimes bad things happen and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
She buried her head in his chest and cried. It felt like hours later her tears dried and the weight that she carried around with her for seven years lifted.
“How... how did you do that?”
“Monique,” he whispered, “I’m not what I appear to be. I have gifts, and sometimes they can be used to help bring the truth out.”
For her, all she cared about was the terrible guilt that punished her for years, guilt about not saving her baby, about losing her parents, and the terrible ordeal she suffered getting out of New Orleans, it was all gone. She looked up into his brown eyes, and without thinking she kissed him. He froze at her touch, she poured everything she had into that one kiss. He froze at first but soon relented. Her tongue slipped inside of his mouth and they explored each other. She felt him harden next to her. Her whole body vibrated with excitement and emotions she hadn’t felt in years.