Royally Yours

by Amy Brent

  “Yep. Weird name. Probably after Calla Lily—I bet her parents are hippies,” he muttered.

  “Oddly enough, I met a woman named Calla a long time ago.”

  “Was she a hippie?” he grunted.

  I shook my head, thinking back to the hot little redhead. “No.”

  My mind drifted to the woman that still visited me in my dreams. Although it was freezing outside, I was suddenly very hot. That memory always had a way of stirring up embers in the pit of my stomach.

  “Better get our snowshoes on,” Gabe said, stopping and pulling his shoes out of the pack on his back.

  I followed suit, leaning up against a tree for support.

  “I’ll take the right half,” I told him, testing the shoes on the snow.

  “Got it,” he said, and headed towards the left.

  Gabe was former Army, just as I was. We had both fought in the desert, but in different wars, or conflicts as the government called them. He was in Desert Storm and I had been part of Iraqi Freedom. The irony was that we had fought the same war in different decades.

  I trudged through the deepening snow, my flashlight dancing across the area in front of me, looking for a lost woman. It was too late to find her with tracks in the snow. Those would have been buried long ago. I hoped she was dressed for the weather and had some basics to keep her alive. I didn’t want to find a body. I wanted to find a woman, cold, but alive.

  Chapter Two

  Calla

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I cursed my own stupidity.

  I wasn’t really a stupid person. I had never been known for my spontaneous decisions or for doing things without thinking them through. Being careful and methodical wasn’t always exciting, but it had kept me out of situations exactly like the one I was in now.

  “It’ll be fun, be spontaneous, what could possibly go wrong? Why did I listen?” I mumbled.

  Obviously, everything could go wrong. I wasn’t a backwoods kind of girl. Why I thought I could traipse into the forest for a quick walkabout was beyond me. I was on good enough terms with nature, friendly, but being this up close and personal was a little much.

  “Dammit!”

  I stared at the black screen on my phone. It wouldn’t turn on at all now, the battery completely dead. I had been an idiot, hoping I would get a single bar to get out a text. The idea that a breeze would blow a signal my way had been silly, but I’d been desperate. I was well and truly lost.

  I had tried to use the GPS function on my phone to find my way back to the ski lodge, but it couldn’t pick up a satellite. That attempt had drained the battery and now I was stuck in the freezing cold, hoping against hope that someone would find me. Hell, I was hoping someone would know to even look for me.

  Stomping my feet, I tried to remind my toes they were still attached to my body. I felt them move past cold and head right into numb territory. The hand warming packs were no longer producing much heat at all. I had shoved them into my boots, hoping to keep my feet warm, but it wasn’t working. Now, they were taking up space and making my feet feel cramped in my boots.

  “Stay calm, Calla. Holly would have reported you missing,” I said aloud, needing to hear someone’s voice, even if it was only my own.

  That I had become a cliché was the worst; believing I could take a walk off-path and get back on my own. I’d wanted to do a little research and knew that walking the same path that thousands of other people did was not going to give me that raw experience I was looking for. My new book was going to be based in the Appalachian Mountains. I wanted to experience first-hand what my heroine would go through. It was the only way I could effectively write her story.

  Except she would be smarter than this. She wouldn’t get lost in the woods, in the dead of winter with a snowstorm predicted. I had taken a wilderness survival course before my trip as part of my research, which gave me a little knowledge, but not nearly enough. I should have hired a guide.

  “No, Calla. You should have stayed on the damn trail.”

  The one thing I remembered from the course was to stay put if you were lost. I knew to stay right where I was. If I started wandering around, trying to find my way back to civilization, I would only end up more lost, making it harder for searchers to find me. I had to stay put.

  “Think, Calla. Basics. What were the basics?” I mused aloud. “Fire, shelter, water.”

  I had a bottle of water, but had no interest in drinking the cold liquid right now. I had matches, but everything was covered in snow. I had nothing to burn with my handy matches. A fire could draw the attention of anyone searching for me—assuming someone was searching. Shelter. I needed shelter. I looked around at the canvas of snow and trees followed by more snow and more trees. It wasn’t exactly promising.

  “Snow cave!”

  I could do that. I hoped. The snow was really coming down, making it almost impossible to see. I fought back the fear that bubbled in my gut. The idea that I would be outside all night was really freaking me out. If the cold didn’t get me, I was convinced that wolves, or some other horrifying creature would gobble me up.

  The task would keep me busy and my mind off what I was convinced would be my certain death. It would also help my limbs keep from freezing from lack of movement. I had to get my heart pounding to get my blood pumping to my extremities. My fingers were in that stage of painful cold, but it was better than numb I reminded myself. When I stopped feeling cold or pain, I was in serious trouble.

  “Oh, Holly,” I groaned, as I packed a mutilated snow brick into place. “Please, please tell me you reported me missing, you crazy bitch.”

  I laughed out loud at my choice of words. “No offense, Hol!”

  The cold was making me crazy, and I was now talking to my neurotic assistant who wasn’t actually there. It was probably hypothermia. My brain was frozen and I was going to die in a snow bank. I was going to be a Calla-sicle. My funeral flashed through my mind. Who would go? Would anyone miss me besides Holly? That line of thinking threatened to send me into a pity party. I didn’t want to examine my life and my relationships, or lack of. Not now.

  “Stop it, Calla! Get your shit together and finish this igloo.”

  I worked with more gusto than I thought I had in me, though the igloo looked nothing like those I had seen on television. There weren’t perfectly shaped bricks or a perfect semi-circle opening. It wasn’t pretty, but I was able to sit inside. The goal was to keep it small, three times the size of my body is what the instructor had said. I knew I needed something to sit on, so I didn’t quite literally freeze my ass off, but yoga mats were in short supply in the forest.

  If only I had a knife I could have cut down some of the pine tree branches. I wasn’t that prepared.

  “Crap,” I groaned, realizing I was still in a bad situation.

  I crawled inside my little igloo, praying the damn ceiling didn’t collapse on my head. I couldn’t even check the time. When my cell died, my way of telling time died along with it. The last time I had checked, it had been about four. I was supposed to check in with Holly at eleven. Surely, she would have been concerned enough to call in my disappearance. Who was I to call Holly neurotic? I was the one who never missed a call. I was always on time. I loathed tardiness. That should have been a clue for Holly.

  Night had fallen almost completely, the sky darker with the heavy snow clouds hanging low. Every minute out there alone in the dark felt like an eternity. I hadn’t brought along a flashlight, another rookie mistake. When I set out this morning, I had only planned to be gone a couple hours. I wasn’t supposed to be in the forest at night.

  Someone had to find me.

  “Please, someone. Anyone. I’ll even take a hermit,” I pleaded with the darkness.

  I couldn’t believe how dark it was. The phrase pitch black took on new meaning. With no moon or stars to give any kind of twinkling light, it was inky black. I wouldn’t be able to see an attack if one came my way.

  “Don’t go down that road, Cal
la,” I told myself. I had to stay calm. Panicking would get me dead in a hurry.

  I had a self-defense course under my belt, at least. Another class I had taken for another book. I was confident I could defend myself against a man. I couldn’t defend myself against nature, though. She was far scarier than any crazy recluse could be.

  Getting lost had not been on my agenda. I was already imagining the embarrassment I would feel when my rescuers found me. I would be the damsel in distress, something I truly hated. The women in my books were always strong and capable, which was why I was doing the research. Turned out, I was not my heroine, and that really pissed me off.

  I huddled inside my little shelter, exhaustion from the long day making me sleepy.

  “No!” I shouted, realizing it wasn’t exhaustion. It was one of the signs of hypothermia.

  I rubbed my hands together and then furiously rubbed my arms, then my legs. The sound of my gloves rubbing against the so-called waterproof material of my coat echoed in my tiny shelter. The movement did nothing to warm my cold limbs, but it did remind me they were still there.

  Suddenly, my brain registered a different sound.

  What was that?

  I stopped moving and strained my ears to identify what I was hearing. It was snow crunching. It was a soft, whooshing sound followed by a crunch. It could be an animal. Maybe it was an animal dragging a kill. Something nocturnal and carnivorous was out there, waiting to find me. I was dead meat—literally.

  Gulping down the ball of fear lodged in my throat, I was afraid the sound would attract whatever predator loomed beyond the walls of my shelter. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I thought I was going to get sick. I wasn’t cold anymore.

  I could feel that fight or flight instinct kicking in, but it could fuck off. I couldn’t possibly flee. My legs were short, and the snow was deep. I would get nowhere fast. My squat frame was no match for a lithe predator. I was going to have to fight. That thought was laughable as well. What was I going to do, throw my cellphone at the beast or maybe stick my tongue out? That would work.

  “Calla!”

  I blinked. Did the predator just say my name?

  It was the cold. It had to be. It was screwing with my senses. Instead of jumping up and identifying my position, I stayed put. While I sat there, that voice echoed through my brain. The voice had been oddly familiar. It dredged up memories that had been locked away for a very long time and only brought out on really special occasions. Like occasions when I had too much wine, was all alone and needed to get off. The voice had to be a result of the hypothermia. At least I would die with a very pleasant memory replaying in my mind.

  “Calla!”

  My frozen brain was screwing with me. It was probably the wind. Did the wind speak?

  “Calla!” the voice called again, sounding much closer and I detected exasperation.

  It was a tone I knew well. I was usually frustrated and exasperated most days with myself and those around me. Was the person mad at me? I didn’t care. Said person could kiss my ass, as long as they saved my ass first. It was a person and that’s all that mattered. I scooted out, stood and waited. I didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t surprise me. I couldn’t see a damn thing. To my left, a beam of light cut through the darkness.

  “Here!” I shouted and attempted to wave an arm. My arms felt more like tree logs than appendages. They were heavy and hard to move, but I forced my body to do it anyway, albeit rather clumsily.

  The flashlight-wielding human stepped into view, the light directed towards the snow directly in front of me, created a glow that encompassed both of us.

  “Are you Calla?” his deep voice growled.

  “Yes.”

  My eyes traveled up to look at his face. I couldn’t see much in the dim light, but I could make out a long beard. He was huge. A shiver of fear crawled down my spine, making me shudder. I decided the girth of his shoulders and chest had to be attributed to his snow gear. The man had to be wearing layers upon layers of coats. It was slightly intimidating, but I had already said I was cool with a scary mountain man. Anything was better than the brutal cold and deep snow. My eyes traveled back down to his feet and I saw he had snowshoes on. I should have thought of that.

  “Let’s go,” he grumbled, sounding very displeased.

  He held out a hand. I hesitated for a moment before I reached out to take it. I stepped forward, or at least I tried to step forward, but my foot caught on something and I tumbled face first into the snow.

  “Dammit!” I cursed, rolling to my back, fighting the urge to bawl in frustration.

  He was standing over me in an instant, the same hand reaching towards me. I took in his wide stance and an image of a Viking popped into my head. I wondered if he had Scandinavian ancestors. I quickly pulled myself back to the reality of my situation and pushed aside my wild fantasy.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  My pride was shattered, not that there had been left much after getting lost in the first place. I took the offered hand, immediately noticing how large it was and let him pull me to my feet. This time, I moved my feet slowly to make sure I wasn’t wrapped up in hidden vines or branches covered by the snow.

  “Let’s go,” he demanded, his voice muffled by the cloth pulled up to his nose.

  I considered saying something, but figured I better keep my smart mouth closed. Not everyone appreciated my sense of humor and I certainly didn’t want to piss off my rescuer. He already seemed a little on the tense side. It wasn’t as if I set out with the intention of getting lost. I would thank him once we got back to the lodge and then, I would never have to see him again.

  Chapter Three

  Jake

  I realized it was going to be a long walk back to the lodge. The woman was short, like really short. When the snow started dumping, I had sent Casper home. It would be too deep for him and I wasn’t going to risk losing him. The dog was smart and listened well. I knew he would be waiting for me when I returned. The woman, on the other hand, I doubted her legs were much longer than my dog’s.

  Looking at the woman standing there, freezing in her ridiculous get up, I was irritated. She was dressed for a spring hike in the woods, not a blizzard. The snow was going to be a real bitch for her to walk through. Not to mention, she was likely already bordering on hypothermia. Thankfully, she wasn’t one of those skinny little things and had some meat on her bones to help insulate her body.

  I shook my head again, realizing that walking to the lodge was not feasible and hoping that someone could grab a sled and haul her ass back up there.

  “Gabe,” I said into my radio.

  “Here.”

  “Got her.”

  “Good job. I’ll head back to our rendezvous point.”

  “See you there.”

  When I shone the flashlight in her direction, I could see her looking at me, disappointment on her face. I wasn’t sure what had her disappointed and I didn’t really give a shit.

  “We need to move,” I said in a loud voice, making sure she heard me before setting off back the way I had come.

  “You don’t have a snowmobile?” she asked in a terse voice.

  “No, I don’t have a snowmobile,” I replied, irritably.

  It was a stupid question. Why would I be walking if I had a damn snowmobile? We didn’t use snowmobiles in case we ran over the missing person or missed their call for help. If she wanted to tell me how to rescue her, she could damn well go sit back in the snow.

  “Oh, well, that sucks,” she snapped.

  I shot her a glare, but didn’t bother responding. I wasn’t going to get into a war of words with her. I wanted to get my ass home and she needed to get out of the weather.

  The woman trailing along beside me was struggling to keep up. I could feel the frustration coming off her in waves. I glanced over to get a better look at her. She was built. I could see the curves and knew some of what I saw could be blamed on the snow gear, but she wasn’t exactly weari
ng the warmest coat or pants for the cold. The flimsy Gortex jacket she was wearing wasn’t designed for cold weather. It was thin and hugged her body. I had noticed the straining zipper over her breasts and imagined she was at least a D-cup. The perfect size for me to bury my face in.

  I wasn’t going to apologize for noticing, either. I was a boob man, the bigger the better. Actually, I was a tits and ass kind of guy. I hated the skinny, waif-thin women who trotted around on legs that looked as if they would snap in a strong wind. I liked my women with some substance. More cushion for the pushin,’ I mused. When I was thrusting deep inside a woman, I didn’t want a hip bone jabbing me.

  My mind was going places it had no business being and I wasn’t even sure why. I didn’t consider myself an overly-horny man, but one look at her wide hips had triggered something inside my brain. She elicited a sexual response that surprised me.

  “I can’t walk as fast as you,” she bitched, reaching out to grab hold of my coat with one of her gloved hands.

  We trudged along, the snow making it difficult to see. Snowflakes combined with the below freezing temperatures stuck to my eyelashes. The cold air when the breeze kicked up stung my eyes, making them water. I could feel her pulling me back as she clung to my coat. If she pulled me down, I was going to be pissed. I stopped walking and evaluated the situation. It was closer to my cabin than the rendezvous point and I wasn’t about to head back up that mountain to take her all the way to the lodge.

  “Stop,” I called out.

  “Gabe,” I said into my radio.

  “Here.”

  “Heading to my cabin. I’ll radio command and they can pick her up there. It’s too far to walk back in this weather. I need to get her out of the cold.”

  “Got it. I’ll let the others know.”

  “Heard you loud and clear,” Tom’s voice cut through the radio.

  Turning to see where I had lost the woman who was no longer clinging to my coat, I was just in time to see her fall forward again.