“You think Gregory will give up that easily?”
“No, but they’ll start getting lazy, make mistakes, and we’ll be able to slip through.”
She looked doubtful but didn’t argue.
He drove until he reached a turn off to a town called Petersville. Vegetation had virtually closed off the road, a sign he took to mean that there were few people in the area.
Petersville turned out to be a ghost mining town. Long abandoned, the trees and bush had pushed their way back in. He’d have preferred something more remote, but it was a start. They could stay the night, and in the morning he’d scout around for an empty cabin outside of the town.
“Right there,” Elora said, pointing at a house that looked to be in fairly good condition.
Mason pulled the truck around to the side of the house, wincing as frozen tree branches scraped the solar paint. They got out, and he grabbed his coat from the bed of the truck, then feeling the frost that had formed on it, threw it back in. Covered with ravager guts, putting it back there had seemed like a good idea at the time, now not so much.
Inside, the house was as bare as the Tank cabins were. In the main room there was a stove and a table with two chairs. A small bedroom was at the back with a double bed and led to a full bathroom. He turned the tap and the pipes gave a high-pitch squeal, but nothing came out. Elora didn’t seem the least bit concerned. Instead, she had found a framed photograph that lay partly concealed under the bed. She stooped to pick it up and then stood there, staring at it as if she’d never seen a photo before.
“It looks clear,” he said, drawing her out of her daze. “We need to get a fire started before I get hypothermia.”
“Right. Sorry.” She placed the frame face down on the bed and ran back outside. He followed and as she grabbed their bags, he used his ax to chop an armload of branches.
He carried them inside and arranged them in the stove.
“Let me start it,” Elora said, nudging him out of the way. He almost expected her to say some sort of fire spell and the stove would roar to life, but instead, she pulled out a set of matches and lit a piece of kindling then placed it among the branches. She motioned him closer. “Stand here, and it will gradually warm you up.”
“I’m fine,” he protested.
“Mason, you're shivering, and your ears are bright red. Get over here.”
He stepped up beside her, enjoying the pink flush that came to her cheeks. She started to move away, but he grabbed her hand, stopping her.
“Sharing body heat is the best way to warm up.” He trailed his fingers along her arms and then over her waist. She gazed up at him with her big green eyes and his body tightened with desire. “Have I thanked you for saving my life?”
“N-No,” she stuttered.
“Well, I should thank you.”
He dipped his head until his lips were hovering over hers. Their breaths mingled, and he could almost taste the sweetness of her. She sighed, and the soft sound urged him to close the distance. He crushed his lips to hers, and she opened to his tongue, letting him sweep inside with a familiar rhythm.
Grasping her hips, he tugged her closer, letting his dick rub against the gentle swell of her belly. He slipped them around until he cupped her ass in his hands and squeezed the lush flesh. She moaned at the sharp dig of his fingers, and he moved his fingers lower, sliding between her ass cheeks. Her heat came right through her dress. He deepened the kiss, arousal ripping through him.
He tore his mouth from hers, gasping for breath before latching onto her neck. Her hands tangled with his shirt and pulled him closer before pushing. He let go of her supple skin to gaze down at her.
“We need to stop.”
Her hands pulled then pushed again, and he noticed the blood stains smeared across his shirt.
“You're right. I’m covered in ravager guts. Let me clean up.” He tugged his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor.
“No. I ... I can’t do this,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I thought I could be okay with this. I convinced myself I could. But I’m not.”
“Okay with what?”
“With you being ... not you.”
“I’ve never pretended to be something other than what I am.”
She stepped back, out of his arms, and smacked her lips. “Maybe not consciously, but this morning, the way you held me, touched me ... It made me hope that even without a soul that you might still be in there.”
He wasn’t surprised she felt that way. He’d seen it in her eyes when she orgasmed, heard it in her voice when she’d cried out his name. That morning it hadn’t bothered him in the least to know she’d only be disappointed, but at some point during the day, possibly when they ran from Nick or faced the ravager, he’d felt an unsettling deep within him. And whatever it was, it was growing.
13
An unbreakable man.
Elora had never really understood that part of the Soul Rune spell. She’d always attributed it to meaning physical strength, or even that his determination was steadfast. But after these last few days with Mason, she realized it went deeper than that.
Without a soul, most men would have resorted to their most basic instincts, their actions determined solely by the whims of their body and mind. The ancient stories Tina had told her had left soulless men as little more than ravagers in human skin.
Yet, Mason had held onto his humanity. Even with no connection to people or the world around him, he had held on to so many pieces of his former self. It’s what made it impossible for her to completely give up hope and so difficult for her to pull away from his touch.
Mason stretched his hands out close to the stove, his face impassive as if the intense kiss hadn’t just happened. She’d expected his complete lack of response, but it still hurt.
His fingers flexed and the movement tightened the muscles in his forearms, and the flickering light danced along his tattoos. At first, Elora thought it was one large tattoo spanning his chest and then traveling down his arms, but she could see now that there were individual ones that had been linked with intricate scroll work that resembled the ancient tribal markings.
“You didn’t have those before,” she said when he glanced up and caught her staring at him.
“The tattoos?” He shrugged. “I had a couple of them before Niobe took you.”
“I never saw them.”
The corner of his lips tipped up. “We didn’t have a lot of opportunities to see each other with our shirts off.”
“Do they mean anything?”
“Some of them.” He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, concealing the majority of the ink. She wanted to ask which ones he’d had and what they meant, but he’d turned away and was heading for the door.
“Where're you going?” she asked, and he paused.
“To grab the rest of the gear from the back of the truck, unless you want to be crawling up in there.”
“You need to warm up.”
“It’ll only take me a minute; besides, the food is in the sled bag. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
While he went out to gather the bags, Elora dug out the bowl and cup from her bag, then filled them with snow.
Mason came back with the bag and the aura spear, then went out again. When he reappeared, he carried his bloody coat and a large wash basin full of snow which he placed in front of the stove.
“What’s the water for?”
“To wash my clothes,” he replied.
“That’s disgusting,” Elora said, spotting entrails hanging from the coat.
Mason held it up for inspection, then went to the door and shook it out. Pieces of ravager fell to the ground just outside. At least it would deter other wild animals from coming near.
“If you're going to wash that, we need to get the fireplace going,” Elora said. “The stove won’t give off enough heat to dry it before the morning.
“I spotted a log pile behind the building. I’ll go grab a fe
w.”
“No. If you keep going out in the cold without a coat, you’ll end up sick.” She held up a hand to stop the protest she saw his lips forming. “It’s only a few feet away. I think I can handle it.”
She’d expected it to be pitch black outside, but the sky was lit up by the Northern Lights. Unlike the sharp fractured flares that ran along the barrier when it was breached, these moved smoothly, like a green blanket fluttering in the breeze. She allowed herself a moment to take in the sight and decided the dance of the spirits was a good sign. They’d made it out of Stebbins and Anchorage unscathed.
Maybe they weren’t going to get to Juki’s as soon as they’d expected, but for now, they were safe, and she no longer had a doubt about Mason’s commitment to their quest. Even if he didn’t want his soul back, he couldn’t go back now.
“You okay out there?” Mason’s voice called from inside.
“I’m good,” she responded and hustled around the corner to the woodpile. Covered with a tarp, the wood was dry, though it looked old and brittle. It would burn rapidly, but once it was started, she could use the inferno spell to keep it going.
When she re-entered the house, Mason was kneeling in front of the fireplace, poking a long broom up the chimney.
“What are you doing?” she asked and placed the wood beside him on the hearth.
“Making sure the flue is clear. If we don’t, the whole place will fill with smoke.”
While he finished checking the chimney, she pulled out their food rations, spreading them on the table. Considering she’d only packed enough for her, she wasn’t surprised by how little there was left.
She grabbed a package of candied salmon and slit it open with her knife then opened a can of beans. It wasn’t the most appetizing combination, but it would settle the rumbles of their stomachs.
“We're lucky this thing had a chimney damper,” Mason said as he arranged the logs in the firebox and pressed the kindling in. “It closed off the top and stopped anything from getting in.”
She passed him the matches and watched as he lit the kindling. The fire caught the old logs, and she knelt on the stone hearth. Holding one of her hands out, she closed her eyes and tried to visualize what she wanted the spell to do.
“Mother of all, I call to you. Inferno tai ma ti. Set this fire to my will. Na-ah tunga lentus.”
The fire roared to life then rapidly receded as the spell controlled the burning of the logs.
“Is that another spell you made up?”
She nodded. “How did you know?”
He snorted. “I’ve never heard such a mishmash of languages in a single spell before.”
“My grandmother was more traditional in her magic. She liked to use Latin and ancient Enochian words, but I was never fluent enough in either to create my own spells. Niobe drew on the Inuit and Eskimo languages.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I just use whatever comes to me.”
They sat at the table and ate their meager meal. It didn’t take long for the small house to warm up, and once they’d finished eating, Elora set about cleaning the kitchen area. If they were going to stay a few days, she refused to do so surrounded by dirt.
Mason toted the basin of now melted snow to the bathroom, then made another trip outside to gather more snow, before disappearing into the bathroom with his coat. When he returned a half hour later, he was wearing only his boxer shorts.
Heat spread through her and her body clenched. The bowl she’d been cleaning shook, splattering water over the short counter. Tearing her eyes away from the delicious sight he made, she plunged the bowl back into the sink and vigorously scrubbed it.
“I managed to drain the water from the tub, but there’s still nothing coming out. After I set a few traps in the morning, I’ll take a look at the pipes. Even if we're only here a couple days, it’d be nice to have easy access to water.”
She kept her head down. “You should hang your clothes by the fire. They’ll dry quicker.”
“You trying to get me back in my clothing?”
She couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips. She looked over at Mason, and he was smiling right back, his arms stretched above his head so he could grasp the door frame. It was a pose that put his ab muscles on perfect display.
“You're slightly underdressed.”
“Or perhaps you're overdressed,” he pointed out.
“No, it’s definitely you.”
“Well, I figured you’d rather I be half naked than continue to smell like dead ravager.”
“It was bad,” she agreed. “Although, not as bad as the time you hid your father’s shield in the Station House. He went around town for weeks, going on about how it had been stolen, when it was only a couple of feet away. When he finally figured out what you’d done, he had you muck out the Station’s sanitation tank.”
He laughed, but she heard the hollowness of it. He remembered all of these events, and maybe he could even be amused hearing about them, but he didn’t remember how they felt.
She placed the clean bowl on a towel with the other dishes to dry and wiped her hands on her skirt.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “I think I’ll turn in.”
“Me too.”
There was an awkward pause as Elora processed the fact that there was only one narrow bed for the two of them.
“Mason, I ...”
“Relax. I’m dead on my feet, and we’ve got a shit load of work to do in the morning. All I want is to sleep.”
She swallowed around the thick lump in her throat and nodded. Mason had never given her reason to doubt his word.
“Let me get my clothes, and I’ll give you a minute to settle yourself.”
He went to the bathroom and came out carrying his damp clothes. As he started arranging the garments over the chairs, she quickly went into the bedroom and changed out of her dress. She pulled a worn shirt from her bag and tugged it on. She was sliding into the bed when the door opened.
Mason didn’t waste any time. He strode across the room and climbed in beside her. He was a large man, and unlike the nights they’d spent huddled in the tent, something about lying in bed with him made him bigger and the contact of him pressed against her even more intimate.
“You really think we’ll be safe staying here?” she asked.
“Despite his ranking, the Dealer has a bad habit of assuming the obvious. He’ll keep the Tank guards focused on the roads heading south to the Capitol and east to Dawson City. The longer it goes without a sign of us, the more he’ll assume we're heading south.” He shifted and laid his arm over her hip. “Now, hush up. I need to get some sleep.”
The next few days, Mason hunted and worked on the pipes while Elora spent time inside, cleaning and preparing the meat he brought in. As relieved as she was to not be on the run, she was growing tired of seeing only the inside of their little house.
That morning, she stood in the doorway, watching Mason head out to check the traps he’d laid the day before. The clear sky and brisk breeze were invigorating and even after Mason disappeared behind the mining office, she stood in place, soaking in the sun. The temperatures had risen, and while it wasn’t exactly warm, it wasn’t so cold she was freezing, either.
But it was weather that wouldn’t last. Elora had seen enough snow storms in her life to recognize the one headed their way. She could search the other houses along the road and possibly find a few things to scavenge to help keep their supplies going.
She tugged on her boots and parka then stepped outside. As the door closed behind her, she hesitated and reached back in for the aura spear leaning against the wall just inside. There may not be ravagers around, but there were other dangers, and she’d be a fool to not take something to defend herself with.
The house next to theirs was more run down but wasn’t crumbling like the one across the street. She tried the doorknob and snorted when it didn’t budge. What kind of people lock the door of the home they were abandoning?
She went aro
und to the side of the building and found a window. Raising onto her tiptoes, she rubbed the heel of her hand across the pane and peeked through into a kitchen. She was about to try prying the window open when she spotted a door along the back wall of the kitchen.
Ditching the window idea, she made her way to the back and found another door. It was locked as well, but it lacked the shelter of the awning that the front had and the years of harsh weather had left it splintered and frail.
Elora took a few steps back and then with a slight running start launched her shoulder at the door. A middle slat broke off, but the lock didn’t budge. She was about to try again when she realized she could stick her arm through the hole and unlock it from the other side.
The inside of the house was falling apart. Chunks of the ceiling littered the floor, and extensive water damage scarred the walls. But there were also supplies. Packages of dehydrated food filled the open cabinets. A squeal of joy erupted from her as she bobbed up and down in excitement. Dehydrated food packs were designed to last decades and included essential vitamins. She glanced around for something to carry the food with. Not finding anything, she went into the other room and pulled a sheet off the bed.
Back in the kitchen, she swept an arm across the table, spilling the dust and debris to the floor, then spread out the sheet. She piled the food packs in the middle, then went back to the bedroom. In the closet, she found a few shirts and another dress, while the dresser was filled with pants and socks. Even if nothing fit her or Mason, they could use them as towels.
With her bundle full, she carted the loot back to their place and dumped it on the table. She rolled the sheet up and stuck it under her arm then headed out again. She went from house to house, even venturing into some of the most damaged properties. The houses were in varying stages of decay, and while a few had been left stocked, the majority had been wiped out.
She’d finished checking a house across from the offices when the first snowflakes drifted down and caught on a gust of wind. Clutching her stash of food and clothing to her chest, she started back to their house. There were still another couple dozen buildings to check, but she couldn’t risk getting caught in a storm.
Winter Souls: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 10 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 13