by Vivien Vale
I shoot load after load into her, and she just keeps on swallowing.
When I’m finished, I collapse with my back against the cool of the window. Emma nuzzles into me.
“Okay?” she asks, looking at me.
It is as if she needs reassurance that she’s pleased me. I recall our days working together.
I used to be dismissive of her, and she got into the habit of checking if things were done to meet my approval.
Somehow, I must get her out of this habit. I have to let her know there’s nothing she can do that will displease me...unless if she leaves me.
“Fucking awesome,” I say, kissing her again. When I pull away from her, I look around. “Any chocolate left?”
She laughs. “Not up here.” She shows me the plate.
“Pity,” I say, running a finger along her collarbone. “I thought we might find another use for it.”
Emma
I start to shiver.
The floor is cold, and I’m worn out, but I’m also utterly content and satisfied. What an amazing evening.
Dylan picks me up and carries me to bed.
“I can walk, you know,” I mutter but nuzzle against his bear-like chest.
“Sure you can, but this way, I get to feel you naked against my skin.”
He lowers me onto the bed, and I feel his lips against the top of my head. I get under the fluffy covers and wait for him to stretch out beside me. I push my back against his front and revel in the feel of his muscles of steel.
For the first time in a long time, I feel safe.
The curtains of the window are still open. Dreamily, I stare out at the vastness of white. As far as the eye can see, there’s snow. Even the tall trees are covered in it.
Suddenly, I feel incredibly small and insignificant, like a pimple on the ass of the world.
Life.
It’s beautiful and fragile.
I’m thinking of asking Dylan what he gets up to when he’s not entertaining a guest like me, but the sound of his snoring lets me know I won’t be getting an answer.
I close my eyes. The significance of the moment does not escape me. I’ve never been so close to a human being before—expect for maybe my own mother.
I remember climbing into bed with her as a little girl, but it was nothing like the man beside me now. Our bodies seem to fit together perfectly. We are one.
His body is hard as steel, muscled, and bear-like while mine is soft and curvaceous.
Maybe if I close my eyes, sleep will grab me, too, and I’ll enter a dream world, along with Dylan.
Time passes. Nothing. I’m still wide awake.
What are some things people do to try and get some sleep? Count sheep.
Yes, I’ll start counting sheep. One, two, three, four, five…
Nope. Counting sheep is also not working.
Turns out Dylan might be the perfect guy, but there’s no way I can get to sleep. I think he’s snoring so loudly that the walls are shaking. Or maybe it has nothing to do with his snoring.
Maybe it’s me.
It’s as if Dylan’s awakened something in me, some wild beast, some creature that has been slumbering deep within me—a creature only he can satisfy.
I sigh.
His snoring has now reached a near deafening crescendo. At this rate, he might unleash an avalanche outside.
I try and struggle out of his embrace, but he tightens his hold on me. Darn.
There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep with this racket going on. He doesn’t sound like a bear—he sounds like five bears!
Somehow I manage to untangle myself from his grip and slide off the edge of the bed.
I hesitate and let my eyes travel over his naked body. I still can’t believe what happened. It’s almost like a fairy tale come true.
Here I am, not a princess, just an ordinary girl beside the most eligible bachelor on the mountain.
Okay, so he’s the only fucking bachelor up here, but when he was in the city, in Manhattan, he was the most sought-after man. Women practically threw themselves at him.
Did I deserve him? I bite my bottom lip. Of course, he hasn’t said anything about a future.
No mention has been made of what’s going to happen when this blizzard stops and the snow melts.
Mixed feelings settle in the pit of my stomach. What would happen next? Not quite the fairy tale I imagined after all.
Now my thoughts are swirling around my head like a fly trapped in a glass jar, unable to escape.
No matter which way I look at the situation, I reach the same conclusion. It’s fucked.
With so much on my mind, I tiptoe downstairs. Boss is fast asleep on his bed. I grab another log and put it on the dying the flames.
For a while, I squat next to the bear and watch the dance of the flames. Blues, yellows, reds and orange combine and merge in a spectacular formation.
Boss would grow up.
I shift my gaze from the fire to the bear and ruffle his fur. He grumbles and twitches a little. I’m not sure if he’s dreaming or stirring because of my touch.
Better to leave him to it.
Aimlessly, I meander through the cabin. It’s curious how there are no photos of anything or anyone on the walls.
The walls and floor are made of wood, but Dylan has placed rugs here and there.
All in all, this cabin is pretty basic. Nothing flashy, yet everything one needs is here.
Something strange on the floor stops me. It looks like the wood’s been shortened. As I walk closer to it, I realize that it’s a gap.
I get onto my hands and knees and, to my surprise, find a latch. It’s a trap door.
My imagination is suddenly running wild. Perhaps it’s a portal to another world? I wonder giddily.
As a child, I used to love reading portal adventures. I imagined my wardrobe led me to a magical world, just like Narnia.
Should I go and explore? I slow my breathing and listen.
All I can hear is snoring. Both the bear and Dylan are sound asleep.
Gently, I lift the latch and peer down into the darkness. I can make out a staircase, and it does not take me long to find a light switch.
After I take the first two steps, I stop. Holy shit. What was I doing?
My heart starts to beat a little faster. Would Dylan mind if I went into his secret room?
What if I discovered some dark secret of his? What if this hides the remains of someone he killed?
The more I think about it, the faster my heart beats, and the crazier my thoughts become.
Dylan said he had to leave in a hurry because someone wanted to hurt me...but how do I actually know if he was telling the truth?
With a deep breath, I keep walking down. And then I stop walking and breathing.
It takes me forever to come to terms with what I’m seeing. My brain refuses to accept what my eyes are seeing.
Eventually, probably only a few minutes later, I go all the way into the room.
It looks like some secret surveillance operation. There are numerous monitors all over the room.
What had stopped me dead in my tracks were the images of my burned apartment.
Dylan...was spying on me.
I take a deep breath as my heart pounds in my chest like a jackhammer. I never did ask him how he knew my apartment had been set on fire.
Mixed emotions rage through me. I’m fucking angry, disappointed, and hurt. I feel so betrayed.
To distract myself, I look at the other monitors. Some of them are blank. Was he watching other people or had it only been me?
The room is spinning a little. I still can’t believe it. All this time he’d been watching me from up here in the mountains, and I had no fucking idea.
And then, movement on the screen distracts me. I approach it and watch.
There are men on the monitor. It takes me a while to recognize what the fuck I’m looking at.
I’m no geography expert, but I bet these men are now on
our mountain. There are four of them, and they’re heading our way. Judging by their black clothing, facemasks, and guns, they’re not coming over for a friendly chat.
Were these the same guys who set fire to my apartment? But what are they doing here?
My thoughts are in such fucking disarray. The only reason they’re here would be to…but surely they couldn’t...they wouldn’t.
By now, my heart is beating in my throat, and I’m starting to panic.
What the fuck am I going to do now? The four men are moving quickly.
Where was Dylan?
Dylan.
Of course. I turn around and race back up the stairs.
Having a go at him for watching me would have to wait till a little later. We have dangerous men to deal with.
As I race up the stairs, I wonder how we’re going to get out of this alive.
Dylan
The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
Something is not quite right.
I toss and turn. Darkness is around me, chases me, follows me. I’m running, and yet I’m getting fucking nowhere. It’s so dark, I’m struggling to see anything.
And then I can make out a figure.
Emma.
Emma is ahead of me, urging me on, but it’s no use. Out of nowhere, someone grabs her and takes her away.
She calls my name. She’s yelling my name.
The way she’s yelling has my blood run cold. It’s as if there’s an ice infusion through my veins.
Unfamiliar noises and strange tingling assault my senses. Fucking alarm bells are going off inside my bed, and I bolt upright in bed.
Fuck.
I’m breathing heavily, and it takes me a few seconds to get my bearings. I had been dreaming. I blink rapidly to dispel the images of my fucking nightmare.
Everything’s all right. Emma was safe, nothing to worry about.
Emma. She’s here with me in the cabin. The bad guys can’t touch her. I hope I didn’t wake her with all the wrestling.
Slowly, relief washes over me. I glance beside me and suck in my breath.
Fuck. Emma is not beside me.
Emma.
What the fuck happened to Emma? Did I just sleep through a kidnapping? I doubt it, unless I’d been drugged.
Instinctively, my right hand touches my head. No obvious injury, no blood, no blunt instrument used to knock me out.
So what was going on? Why wasn’t Emma in bed with me? And what were those sounds I could hear from a long way off?
Maybe everything was not all right.
With lightning speed, I jump out of bed and grab some clothes. I put them on as I run downstairs. Just as my foot takes the last step, I can hear her scream my name.
The pitch of her voice tells me something’s wrong. Something’s fucking wrong.
Something else tells me things are not as they seem. Boss is standing in front of the door growling. It’s a deep ferocious growl, the kind that says Don’t enter my fucking territory.
“Dylan!” Emma screams, sounding almost hysterical, and I grab onto her as she stumbles out from my surveillance room.
“They’re coming…four of them…and they’ve got guns…”
It takes me no time at all to put two and two together. From the garbled hysteria, I gather that those bad dudes have found Emma, found us.
Judging by baby bear’s reaction, they must be getting close.
Too fucking close for comfort.
“Boss,” I call the bear and grab Emma. “Down the stairs. Quick.” I command, but she’s not moving.
“Boss,” she calls, and her voice quivers.
We’re fucking wasting valuable time here. Without another word, I run to grab Boss. He’s still growling, and I think I can hear voices.
I practically push Emma down the stairs and pull the latch shut after us. Then I unhook a special thick metal plate door and pull it all the way over before attaching a lock to it.
“That should keep them out,” I observe and scramble down the stairs. The bear is reluctant and hovers at the top.
“Come on, buddy,” I coax him. “Nothing you can do. We’re safe here.”
One look at the monitors confirms the worst of my fears. We’ve been fucking found. If Emma has been trying to tell me there were four guys, she’s right.
Outside the door of my cabin are four men dressed in dark clothes wearing face masks. They’re all armed with at least one gun each.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
How had this happened? How the fuck had they traced Emma here? Or had they traced me? I run a million possibilities through my head.
I turn to Emma. She’s white as a ghost, and her eyes are filled with fear.
“Are they…” She doesn’t finish the sentence.
She doesn’t need to. I know what she’s trying to ask.
“That’s them all right. I’ve got no fucking idea how they found you or us.”
I notice she’s shaking. I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her.
“It’ll be all right,” I murmur and hold her while my eyes are glued to the monitor.
“But…how…what…they’ll kill us…” Emma stutters, and I just keep stroking her back.
She’s right, of course. Those fucking dudes mean business. From what I can tell, they’ve not come to have a cup of tea with us.
I furrow my brow.
“What’re we going to do?” Emma’s sounding frantic. I can feel her heart pounding against her chest.
“We’re going to get out of here alive,” I reply and keep watching what the men are doing.
As far as they’re concerned, we’re fucking asleep in the house. They’re not going to ring the doorbell and get us up. From their movements, I don’t think they’re going to break in either. What’s more, it’s not fucking easy to break in.
But what are they going to do then?
I thank our lucky stars we have no lights on, aiding these guys into thinking we’re easy prey.
Prey. We’re not prey—we’re the predators. We’ve got the upper fucking hand, because we’re aware of what the fuck they’re up to.
“Should we get out? Should we talk to them?” Emma’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
“I don’t think these guys believe in talking.” I point to the screen.
Emma nods. “But how will we get out?”
I pace the length of the little room.
“We can’t just wait in here for them to come and shoot us?” Emma’s nearly sobbing.
“Don’t worry—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Don’t worry? You’re telling me not to worry? Did you see those fucking big guns they’ve got? They burned my apartment down, remember?”
Bingo. Of course. They don’t need to fucking shoot us, because they’ve got another method to get rid of us.
How convenient. They’re only fucking armed in case they run into trouble.
“Dylan, look,” shrieks Emma, pointing to the screen.
One of the men is pouring petrol at the front door. The others have scattered, but I bet I know exactly what they fuck they’re doing.
“Oh, Dylan, we’re going to die. I’m too young to die,” wails Emma, and I grab her by the shoulders.
“Emma, listen to me. You’re not going to die. At least, not today or while you’re with me. Maybe one day of old age, but not right now.”
My words don’t hit their mark. “I’m going to be burnt alive. I don’t want to die. What about poor Boss?” She’s sobbing, and I can feel her body going limp.
Tempted as I am to slap her in the face so she gets a grip, I don’t. Instead I shake her a little.
“Listen to me, Emma,” I try and make eye contact with her. “You’re not going to die.”
Above us, the flames are crackling. Obviously, the fire has well and truly taken a hold.
Briefly, I lament all the things I’m going to lose. Sure, I’m not terribly materialistic, but there are some thing I’ve grown atta
ched to.
A summer ago, I traded a bearskin for a first-class hunting knife. It was one of those short blade ones. It would be burnt to a crisp, as would my bear coat, and some of my other clothing.
Fucking bastards.
Anger now wells up in me. I want to fucking punch someone.
They’re destroying my house, my four walls built with love and sweat and tears.
“Emma, listen to me.” I put my hand under her chin and lift her face until I see her make eye contact. All life’s gone out of her eyes.
“This room is a safe spot. It’s fire-proof. The house can burn, and we will be safe in here. We won’t feel anything.”
At first, I’m not sure she’s heard what I say. Her eyes stay listless and dull.
After what seems like an eternity, but is probably only a matter of minutes, she asks. “What do you mean? How can we be safe?”
I push her loose strands of her hair out of her face and tuck them behind her ear.
“I mean, this room is built to withstand heat of up to several hundred degrees. It’s also explosion-proof and storm-proof. Nothing can touch us down here.”
She looks around, still looking frightened, her eyes wide like a deer’s.
“I…I don’t understand.” She sighs. “We can’t stay here forever. Food, water…”
I nod. “Of course we’re not going to stay here forever. We’re going to have our own exit strategy and beat these fuckers at their own game.”
She doesn’t believe me. I can tell. She thinks I’m lulling her into a false sense of security to make the time we’ve got left easier.
I sigh and lean forward to kiss her.
For a moment, there’s only us, the kiss, and the knowledge that whatever we’re facing, we’re facing it together.
Emma
When he stops kissing me, I feel as if the oxygen is being sucked out of me.
Panic grips me tightly. How long could we survive down here? Not long I assume. With the fire raging above us, it’ll only be a matter of time before the ceiling will cave in or we run out of air.
Either death sounds slow and painful to me.
I can’t understand why Dylan is so obsessed with the monitors. What the fuck does any of it matter anymore? I mean, if we’ve got minutes left, we should make the most of it.