Heart of Frankenstein

by Lexi Post

  The heat in the room finally began to cool as the wood he’d added burned down. Despite the unmet ache in his loins, he was loathe to move from her side. Not only did he enjoy having her in his arms, but he didn’t want to undo what he may have accomplished by sharing his body heat.

  He remained where he was, ignoring the movement of the sun that now hid behind an adjacent mountain, covering the cabin in a half-shadow. Instead, he watched his angel breathe, confirming she still lived.

  Then her lips parted, and she took a deeper breath.

  He froze, afraid she would wake immediately. When her eyelids didn’t open, he carefully extracted himself from around her. Wrapping the fur coat about her, his concern increased that she might look upon him and be horrified. With his heart racing in near panic, he quickly replaced the quilt and grabbed up his clothes.

  He dressed in his jeans and boots faster than a wolf snatching up its prey. With his flannel shirt now in shreds around the rocks keeping the woman warm, he needed to cover his torso before she woke. He didn’t want her to fear him.

  Moving to the chest at the end of his bed, he pulled out another shirt. It was wool, which would be far too hot once he added more wood to the stove. Digging beneath it, he grasped a white linen shirt he hadn’t worn in decades. Donning it, he buttoned it high enough to hide the horizontal scar across his chest, yet it still remained open at the collar.

  Stepping before the triangular piece of mirror he’d found in the Savik dump, he checked to be sure the leather choker with Inuit symbols on it still covered his harshest scar. The one on his forehead was concealed by his hair, but the one under his right eye was visible. He once tried an eye-patch for that, but with his height, it seemed to cause more fear.

  Confirming the leather around his neck was still in place, he strode to the wood stove and added two more logs, watching as they were engulfed in flames. He returned the pot to the stove top and waited for it to steam before pouring it into his tin cup again and walking back to his bed, back to Angel. That’s what he would call her. Men and women liked names, and in the Arctic wilderness, they took on names that meant something.

  Once again, he sat next to her and carefully opened her lips. Spooning in a small amount of the sweet water, he waited, anxious to see some sign of life in her. Excitement hit him as her throat worked to swallow the warm liquid. Since she didn’t wake or choke, he repeated the procedure, this time letting more from the spoon drip onto her tongue.

  She groaned, and he pulled his hands away, but she didn’t wake.

  He quickly gave Angel more sugar water. This time her tongue darted out and licked at her lips. His gut tightened with yearning. The need for companionship spiked hard through his chest. He had little time to recover before her lashes fluttered. He held his breath, anxious to see the color of her eyes.

  “Oh.” Her lids, which didn’t appear to open, squinched together. She tried to lift her hand, but it was caught beneath the blankets and fur coat.

  “Don’t.” He whispered the word because his normal voice was very deep and scratchy. He didn’t want to alarm her, but he couldn’t allow her to move. “Don’t try to move yet. You could stop your heart.”

  Her sudden intake of breath was the only sign that she’d heard him. That, and she ceased her struggles, much to his relief.

  “Am I in a hospital?” Her voice, though soft, flowed over him, loosening his tense muscles.

  “No. You’re in my cabin. I discovered you on the mountain.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered again followed by a moan of pain before she closed them tight. “My eyes. Burn.”

  She must have become blinded by the snow. She’d had no eye protection. He should have realized that. “Don’t try to open them. You’re snow-blind.”

  Her head turned toward his voice. “Blind?” The one word was choked out.

  The fear in her voice caused sympathy to rise in his chest. “It’s not permanent, but it could last a couple of days. If you’ll allow it, I can bandage your eyes so they can heal.”

  Her tongue darted out to lick her chapped lips again. “Please.”

  At her request, he rose. Striding toward the corner of the room that held the wood stove and cabinets, as well as a sink with cold running water, his mind quickly inventoried what he might use. He didn’t wish to use the tape he had as her skin was already sore from the cold. He could wrap her eyes with a scarf, but he needed something hard beneath it to protect her eyes from light.

  Jar lids could work if large enough. Quickly, he chose two from the cabinet and went back to his chest for the scarf. As he approached the bed, he purposefully shuffled his feet so she wouldn’t be startled by his voice. Laying everything next to her, he pulled his only chair from the table at the center of the cabin and set it next to the bed.

  “I’m going to wrap your head and protect your eyes. Don’t lift your head or move. It’s very important you remain still. Your muscles don’t have the proper blood flow yet, and the strain could cause your heart to fail.”

  Her brows lowered. “Are you a doctor?”

  “No, but I have lived in the coldest regions of the Earth for most of my life. I understand what has happened to you.” He sat on the chair and lifted the jar lids.

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips again. “I guess that’s the next best thing.”

  He didn’t respond, too focused on soothing her. Her eyes would simply take time to heal. As gently as he could, he laid a lid over each eye socket, resting the edges on her eyebrows and cheek bones. Slowly, he lifted her head with one hand while he maneuvered the scarf beneath it. The silky strands of her golden hair made it hard to concentrate.

  Finally, he had the scarf where he wanted it and he tied it around her head to keep the lids in place. “Now if you open your eyes, it shouldn’t hurt, but I would suggest keeping them closed for at least a couple of days.”

  “Thank you.” Her soft voice came out in a throaty whisper.

  “You’re welcome.” He stared at her. How long before her body warmed enough to cause her excruciating pain? He had nothing he could give her to take it away, but sleep might help. Rising, he headed back to his counter.

  “Where are you going?” Her panic in her voice stopped him cold.

  “I’m just across the room. I’ll make you warm tea to help your body heal though it may not be the most pleasant.”

  “Tea? I think a shot of whiskey would be more beneficial.”

  He quickly pulled out his small herb box. Mixing valerian with hops, he poured it into the pot of birch syrup water still simmering on the wood stove. Then he retrieved the cup and emptied the cooled water into the sink. “Alcohol will hurt you in your condition.”

  “It sounds like you know a lot—” she coughed.

  He was beside her in an instant. “Don’t.” Laying his finger against her throat, he stroked it, ignoring the pleasant feel of her skin. “Coughing will hurt your heart.”

  She swallowed against his finger. “Got it.” Her tongue came out again to lick her lips.

  He tore his gaze away and pushed back the chair, uncomfortable with the desire pushing through him. He stepped to the stove and poured the liquid into his cup, small pieces of crushed herb floated within it.

  As he returned to the chair, her lips lifted in a small smile. “I guess I’m lucky you found me. Do you have a name?”

  “I have the tea, but don’t lift your head. Allow me to do it for you.” He tested the liquid with his finger. With his sensitivity to temperatures less than hers, he hoped he had it right.

  “Okay, but when will I be able to move again?”

  He lifted her head with his hand. “Tomorrow. Until then, you should try to sleep.” He pressed the lip of the cup to her lips, and she didn’t flinch, which was a good sign. Very slowly he tilted it. He pulled it back to allow her to swallow.

  “That tastes weird. Is that herbal tea?”

  He nodded before remembering she couldn’t see him. “Yes. It will help you
sleep so you can heal, but you need to finish it all.”

  She lifted her lip at that pronouncement, but as he tipped the cup again, she drank. When she’d finished it, he set it aside.

  “Okay, I was a good girl and took all my medicine. Now can you tell me your name?”

  He walked away and rinsed out the cup. Over his shoulder, he answered. “You need to sleep now.

  “I’ll sleep if you tell me your name.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t have one.”

  Angela opened her mouth to argue, but she heard a door open and close. “Are you here?” Fear at being left alone and unable to move sliced through her. What if she could move and he had lied to her? What if he made it all up to keep her with him? What if he was a madman?

  Then again, what if everything he said was true and she killed herself out of panic? According to him, she only had to wait a day. That wasn’t too long. But if he told her she shouldn’t move again tomorrow, then she’d ignore him and run like a crazy woman.

  She took a deeper breath, but the urge to cough afterwards was strong, so she swallowed hard against the itch before taking rapid shallow breaths. Her body felt like lead and her thoughts grew hazy. What was it she wanted to know from him again?

  The warm waters flowed by her. Now THIS was a hot spring. She could just make out the mineral deposits on the rock next to her. Her stay in Tuscany at the Terme Di Saturina spa was turning out to be perfect. All she needed was a dinner companion, preferably a handsome Italian, who wouldn’t mind some company on a short-term basis. She definitely had the best job.

  She stretched her legs out in front of her as she held on to the rock ledge behind her, the water pulling her forward, relaxing her body. It must be early morning because the fog obscured the multi-level pools. The smell of the hot springs was muted, perhaps due to the fog. It were as if she floated on a cloud.

  Michael didn’t know what he was missing. She’d invited her brother to come with her on this trip, but once again, he’d refused. If anyone needed a vacation, it was him. He just didn’t get that there was more to life than his job. He’d only left Oakland three times since he’d taken the position as comptroller at Manderson Exports Inc. and all three times it was because she’d practically bribed him to come with her. He was far too ambitious, pushing off life until he had time.

  She mentally patted herself on the back. She’d managed to land a job that allowed her to work and have amazing experiences at the same time, plus it had great benefits and literally months of vacation time. Her next vacation was all planned. A cruise around Alaska and then a trek across the arctic. Mikey may think she was an adventurer, but she never vacationed without a guide. She couldn’t wait to be pulled across the snow by a team of sled dogs or to see her first polar bear from the safety of a snow caterpillar.

  Bringing her legs beneath her, she pulled her arms off the ledge and let her hands fall into the water. Ow! Her right one started to burn. How could the water be too hot around her hand but fine around her bo— Ow. She lifted both hands above the water, but they continued to burn. She stood, but too late, her feet felt like they were on fire.

  “Wake up. You shouldn’t move.”

  The voice floated to her from somewhere else. It was low and scratchy and recognizable for some reason.

  “Wake up, don’t move.”

  She opened her eyes but all was black. “Oh God, I’m blind.” Tears formed, making her eyes sting. She swallowed against them.

  “You aren’t blind. I covered your eyes so they could heal from their sunburn. In a couple of days, you’ll be able to see again.” The man held her left wrist as he smoothed something over her hand.

  Her memory returned. “That hurts.”

  His voice lowered. “I know. You have frostbite. Your hands are the worst, but your feet didn’t completely escape damage.”

  She took shallow, rapid breaths against the pain, not wanting to cough again as her memory returned. “How long did I sleep?”

  He set her hand down and covered it with a blanket of some sort.

  Shoot, she wished she could see. “It must be bad because I feel like my hands and feet are burning.”

  He laid his large hand on her arm, more to soothe than restrain. “Half a day.”

  Despite her efforts to be brave, her eyes teared up, causing more pain. “It hurts so much.” She could feel wetness against her cheek. If only she was at a hospital, and they could give her morphine or something. “Do you have any pain killers? I’d even take aspirin at this point.”

  “I don’t have anything to take the pain away. Would you like more tea to help you sleep through it?”

  She could feel the empathy in his voice. It was as if he hurt for her. Who was this man? And where was she? Maybe when she felt better she could tackle those questions. Right now, she just wanted relief from the pain. “P-please.” She couldn’t stop the choke in her words.

  She heard him move away and tried to concentrate on the sounds he made instead of the pain she was in.

  As if he guessed her thoughts, he spoke from across the room. “Think about icebergs and snow and a polar dive into the waters of the Arctic Ocean.”

  She forced herself to bring to mind her last cold trip. She’d taken a helicopter ride to a two thousand-foot mountain, Revaltoppe, in Greenland National Park. There had been only three of them, a fellow employee, herself, and the guide. She’d thought she’d dressed warm enough, but when they jumped down to the frozen ground and ran away from the beat of the helicopter blades, she’d felt no relief from the wind. Her face was frozen in seconds.

  “Here.” Her savior lifted her head and brought the cup to her lips.

  The liquid wasn’t hot, but warm, enabling her to drink it quickly. At his kindness for her, a complete stranger, she began to tear up again.

  He let her head rest on the pillow before he laid his hand over her forehead. Did she have a fever? Would she die out here, wherever here was? She tried to remember why she had frostbite, but the burning in her extremities made it hard to concentrate. Or was it the tea?

  How could she ever repay him? She had a nice nest egg saved up for when she retired and if it wasn’t for him, she would never even make it to fifty-eight. Was Mikey at her apartment in San Francisco? Was he looking for…

  CHAPTER TWO

  He sensed the minute Angel gave in to sleep. The tension in her body, steeled for pain, eased. The stress of that pain would tax her heart. He was relieved she’d allowed him to make her more tea.

  If he could, he’d take her pain on himself, but he couldn’t understand what it felt like. He’d been burned the first time he encountered fire, having had no one to teach him that it could hurt, but as the decades had gone by, his sensitivity to temperatures and pain had been dulled.

  He no longer feared what man or beast could do to him. The knowledge that his misery would continue into eternity, his just punishment for his early years, kept fear at bay…with one exception. But to feel pain as she did, her tears leaking past the scarf and wetting her cheeks, was beyond him. If only he could spare her that as well.

  And her pain had just begun.

  Since he’d treated someone for frostbite before, he was confident in his ministrations on that level, and on the progression her hands and feet would take, but the only hypothermia victims he’d come across were either dead, had soon died, or were air-lifted away. He had no idea what the procedures were once they were taken to a hospital.

  For the first time since he’d met his closest neighbor, Timber, he wished for his company, if only to plot out Angel’s care. Rising, he lifted the tin cup from the bed and walked across the cabin to set it in the sink. He returned to her and gently removed the flannel wrapped rocks from around her body, their temperature no longer warmer than her. Turning next to the wood stove, he added the last of the split logs to it.

  He needed to bring more wood inside and he preferred to do so while she slept, so he shucked off his shirt and folded it
neatly before returning it to the chest. Grabbing up his axe, he strode outside and around the corner of the cabin to where his wood was stacked. The ledge his cabin was built on was large with a sloping decline on one side, an incline on the opposite northside and even ground directly across from the cabin.

  He didn’t need as much firewood as men did for staying warm, but with Angel requiring greater heat, he would have to fell a few more trees before winter set in. The logs he had stacked were too large for the wood stove, so he set one on the stump he used and swung the axe.

  Lifting one half of the log onto the stump, he swung the axe down again and split it in half. He continued to split logs into quarters, the physical activity easing some of his anxiety over his guest.

  While he’d help people in the wild, he’d never taken care of anyone for more than a day before. He’d owned a dog once, but it hurt too much when it died. Everyone and everything died…except him.

  Loading the split wood into his wood box, he carried it into the cabin. As he entered, he was careful to be quiet. He’d rather Angel slept. He hated that she was in pain and there was nothing he could do to help.

  That she had pain was a good sign. It meant she was healing, but the process would be agonizing.

  Her hands were far worse than her feet. He had no doubt that blisters would occur. She must not have had insulated gloves, but her boots had been good until she’d taken them off.

  He’d gathered all her belongings while she’d slept earlier and laid them across his table to dry. It was a strange phenomenon of hypothermia that people disrobed. She must not have disrobed much before he found her. For that he was thankful.

  Quietly, he stacked the wood and checked the fire before sitting in the chair by his bed. Angel was so fair, her skin, her hair. It made him anxious to see her eyes. He’d never seen the eyes of his mate, but she had been dark, her hair the black of night, her skin in the tallow candles appeared dusky.