“I must cut some more wood.” He nodded at the blazing hearth. “To keep us warm.”
“Of course.” He’d caught me in mid-bite. I wiped the flakes of pastry from my lips, feeling like a clumsy child.
“You injury. Does it hurt?”
I shifted my leg and an electric jolt of pain blasted through it. Idiot. Why had I moved? I’d forgotten all about the break until he asked.
“When I have finished with the wood, I will prepare another injection. He glanced at the window. It will be dark soon, so I must complete this.”
His phrasing struck me as peculiar. “Does it have to be dark before you can inject?”
“I must finish with the wood, and bring it indoors before darkness…visits?”
“Arrives.”
“Of course.”
“Well, don’t stand around on my account. Chop, chop!” I smiled, but he seemed confused by my joke. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain it later.”
“Of course. I would be very grateful.”
He slipped past the heavy door and pulled it closed. I shivered as the Alpine draught reached me, and adjusted the blanket he’d provided. I was reclining on a sofa. It could have been a chaise lounge. I wasn’t certain. But it was comfortable and I was wonderfully relaxed. Whatever blend of coffee he used, I wanted the recipe. The opposite of stimulating, it infused me with warmth, and eliminated all the tightness, and most of the aches, from my muscles. After a few moments, I struggled to keep my eyes open, blinking hard to keep myself in the here and now.
But I soon gave up the fight, and as darkness colored the windows black I drifted into a thankfully dreamless sleep, disturbed only occasionally by a sharp crack from the fireplace as a pocket of resin exploded.
~
I awoke to the smell of cooking. My stomach rumbled insistently, urging me to wakefulness, so I could track down the hopefully satisfying repast.
“Ashley?” I murmured as I stretched. The ache in my leg had faded, although I’d no idea if that was due to the welcome rest, or a mid-slumber injection courtesy of my host.
I lowered my splinted leg to the floor, tensed for pain, but something was working effectively. I felt no discomfort, which was peculiar, considering I’d broken a bone. It occurred to me he’d never explained if it was my tibia, or fibula I’d snapped. It didn’t matter, not right away. I had bigger issues to confront. I was hungry, and the smell of cooking was driving me to distraction.
I called for Ashley again, but there was no reply. Either he was ignoring me, or I truly was alone. Strange, considering his fervent wish to be indoors before nightfall. I checked the windows were still dark, in case I’d slept through the night and into morning.
As I shuffled closer to the sturdy wooden table, a large piece of paper caught my eye.
“Before you sit down, check outside the front door.”
“Okayyy…” I was glad he’d forewarned me. I’d have been annoyed if I’d made the trip across to the table, only to be sent away again. As it was, the front door was close to where I stood.
He’d left me ice cream. On the doorstep. It was still in a plastic tub, presumably so the local wildlife wouldn’t enjoy it before I could. Some assembly required, then. I closed the door, intending to leave the dessert in its natural freezer until I was ready to eat it. No sense in it melting in the heat from the merrily-blazing fire, was there?
I resumed my determined course toward the table. A chrome-plated cover sat on a dinner plate, which was resting on a warmer. Four small candles supplied a gentle heat to whatever was beneath. I steadied myself on the back of a chair and lifted the lid, which was surprisingly hot. Delicious aromas swirled past me in a cloud of aromatic steam. I inhaled deeply, relishing the first hot food I’d eaten in…ten days, Ashley had said. How he’d managed to feed me in all that time was a mystery. Hopefully, I’d get the chance to ask him, wherever he’d disappeared to.
I considered waiting for him, but my stomach was impatient. My mouth watered and after only a second of hesitation, I lifted the plate, careful to protect my hands with napkins, and set it down. Utensils had been laid out and a dark bottle of wine tempted me. I was too hungry to think about wine, though, and it would have been a bad idea on an empty stomach. No, perhaps later.
I began eating, sighing happily with each mouthful. The stew was delicious, and gamey, and was accompanied by carrot, onions and red cabbage, all of which had absorbed the flavor of the meat. I guessed the stew had marinated for many hours for the vegetables to become so tasty and soft. I actually started laughing, because the meal was so fulfilling.
“Compliments to the chef!” I called to the apparently empty chalet. After a minute’s pause, I opened the wine, allowing it to warm in the glass. I was glad I’d waited. The wine was dark, but still translucent, and delivered hints of pine and cherries. The perfect choice for the meal…whatever kind of beast had laid down so I could enjoy eating it.
Once I’d finished, I was thoroughly full. Not having eaten a full meal in over a week had reduced my capacity somewhat. I decided to wait before attempting dessert. So I hobbled back to the sofa, somehow managing not to spill the wine over the rug. As I sipped the warming red, I considered my situation. Somehow, I’d have to get word to the outside world. Mom and Dad would be frantic, and my sister would be in tears. She’d frequently warned me against foolish pursuits such as mountaineering and skiing. But I was the adventurous one of the family, and couldn’t escape my calling. And look where it had landed me. In an isolated chalet, cut off from the world. But I’d been hit by an avalanche, and lived to tell the tale. I prayed the rest of the team had been as fortunate.
I hoped a similar fate hadn’t overcome Ashley. Why so keen to finish cutting wood before dark, and then vanish into what was clearly late evening, or even night?
My eyes began to droop and I hard-blinked them open. The warming fire combined with my contented stomach and rich wine was conspiring to put me to sleep again. I’d already slept enough, I figured. Time for some ice cream. I levered my reluctant body upright and headed for the door. Oddly, it seemed further away this time. Maybe the room was bigger. No, how could that be? I was drunk, that was all. Or the wine and the painkillers were mixing. My head spun pleasantly, not helping my balance in the least. I debated to wisdom of returning to the sofa, but the thought of Alpine-chilled ice cream intrigued me.
I managed to reach the door without falling. The warm light that flooded past me contrasted sharply with the stark monochromatic Alpine darkness, inky blackness above stark white. The plastic tub of ice cream was still there, surrounded by tiny footprints, no doubt made by inquisitive nocturnal critters. Using the door handle to steady myself, I bent to pick up the tub and was startled to see a different set of prints, much larger than the others.
They were human. They were barefoot.
~
I stared, unable to believe my eyes. The bare feet were larger than my own, and could only have been made by one person, one man.
Ashley.
But why the hell would he go outside without any boots on his feet? I extended my injured foot, not wanting to put my weight on it, and placed my foot inside the first print. It was half as big again. No doubt, whatsoever.
“Ashley?” I called. My worst fear was that he might by lying out in the cold, unable to move or call out to me. “Ashley, are you out there?” Only the soft crackling sounds of a sub-zero night answered my calls. Nervous, I moved back inside, wondering what to do next. The cold wasn’t helping my leg, neither was hobbling about on it. I closed the door, but left it unbolted, in case Ashley returned. What had happened to him?
I returned to the sofa and huddled beneath the blanket, cradling the glass of wine. I’d completely forgotten the ice cream, having lost the urge. Maybe this barefoot walking was a regular thing for him. Maybe he did it every night. Why should he face any problems tonight?
It was still a weird thing to do, but if he lived out here alone, he was well aware of the d
angers. I could only hope he didn’t come to any harm, because I would be in a whole load of trouble if he disappeared.
“Stop worrying, April. He’ll be fine.”
The distant howl of a wolf shattered my optimism. I groaned. One more thing to worry about, being eaten by wolves. Great. Now I would be up all night fretting.
Chapter 4
I woke up with a sudden start, disoriented and in a panic. The snow had been crushing me, pressing down hard, stopping my breathing. But someone had been digging down, scratching at the snow, until the dim whiteness brightened. I dared to hope someone would find me. They must have known I was there, or why would they be digging right above where I lay? I tried to be patient, but the snow pressed in on me, stoking my fears. The scrabbling noise grew louder, and closer. I didn’t know what my rescuer was using, but it was quick. The light grew stronger, dazzling me. The snow above my face vanished. Scrabbling paws tore open a hole. Daylight flooded in.
And a huge wolf stared down at me.
“No, no, what? Get away, get away!” I lashed out with my arms, but connected with nothing. I pressed myself back, trying to escape the creature, but when my eyes snapped open, the snow was gone.
The room was empty.
Breathless and shaking, I stared around, putting the pieces together. The avalanche had been real. I’d been swept away, buried, but I remembered nothing of my rescue. The distorted dream had come from my imagination, surely, unless a rescue team had used a search dog to dig me out.
But if that was the case, where were they? Why was I in an isolated lodge, with I-walk-barefoot-in-the-snow Ashley?
No, the dream must have come from some depraved imaginings of my brain, because it had ended, not with a wolf looming over me, but with a naked man.
“What the fuck was in that wine?” I asked the silent room. Maybe it was unfair to blame the alcohol. I should be blaming Ashley for plying me with painkillers, then leaving strong wine within my reach. Or I could have shown more self-restraint. I was supposed to be a responsible adult, after all.
“But why a naked man?” I mumbled as I drifted back to sleep. “Why a wolf?”
~
Something was pressing down on me. I woke in a panic, as I had before. This time there had been no wolf, and no naked men. Just the weight of something on my injured leg. I forced my eyes open and tried to get my bearings. I was on the sofa, covered by a blanket. The light was poor, as the fire had died to a glowing pile of embers. The windows were pale squares of pre-dawn light, barely visible against the dark walls.
But I was able to make out the form of a man, his skin shining with perspiration even in the low light. I stared, disbelieving the evidence before my own eyes. He wore no shirt. His back, shoulders and chest were bare. I couldn’t see if he was wearing anything at all. Shit! Was he naked? I wanted to slide away from this latest nightmare but his weight, no his hands, were on my bad leg, placed on either side of the injury. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt, when I should have been in agony. That proved it was a dream, didn’t it? In which case, nothing mattered.
Nothing was real.
Intrigued, I reached out a hand to the nearest perspiring shoulder. It was strong, and hotter than I expected. The owner lifted his focus from my leg and peered at me, a surprised expression on his face.
“You’re awake?” Naturally, he looked like Ashley.
“I suppose I must be,” I said in a soft murmur. “What were you doing to my leg?”
“I was trying to help you heal.”
“By lying on it?”
“By focusing upon it.”
“Oh. Okay. Why not?” If my dream wanted to be cryptic, then fine. Curious as to what else might happen, I rubbed his shoulder and dared to ask the question.
“Are you naked?”
He smiled. “I neglected to don my shirt, but otherwise I am clothed.”
“Aw,” I said with a small pout. “Pity.”
His laugh was soft. “You should go back to sleep. The healing requires a great deal of rest, for both of us.” He started to rise, but I grabbed his wrist.
“Please don’t leave. I’m lonely. And I was scared.”
“You have no need to be afraid. The chalet is secure.”
“But you weren’t here. I was alone.”
He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You are alone no longer. Sleep well.”
I sighed happily as his lips touched my skin. My hands rose to cup his shoulders. I wanted to pull him closer, but he slid out of my light grip without effort.
“Don’t leave.”
“You must sleep.”
“Stay here and keep me warm,” I pleaded.
“I cannot. It would be…” he inhaled deeply.
“Nice?”
“Dangerous.”
“Why? Because I’m naked?” Indulging in the fantasy, I threw the cover aside, revealing my body to him.
“April…” he groaned.
“Lie with me,” I said again. “Please. Keep me warm.”
He sighed. “I shall put a shirt on first.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You should dress also.”
“Don’t be such a spoilsport.”
“This is inappropriate. You are affected by the drugs.”
“Drugs, shmugs,” I scoffed. “Get into bed with me. Let me put my arms around your big, strong body.” I stretched out my arms and wriggled my fingers, beckoning him.
“I will lie on top of the covers, no closer.”
“You’re no fun.” I pouted. “Are you worried I might take advantage of you?”
“The opposite is likely, April. You should not tempt me.”
“Oh? So you’re tempted?”
He glanced at the windows. “This is most difficult,” he muttered.
“It’s not difficult. Get into bed with me. Hold me. Put your big hands all over my body.” As I spoke, I caught my lip between my teeth. I hadn’t intended to be so forward. But then, it was only a dream, wasn’t it? Everything was a figment of my imagination, including the bulge in the front of his pants. Before he could react, I’d sat up and grabbed hold of him, gasping at his hardness. He jumped back out of my reach.
“No, no. This is too much.”
“Oh, hell” I lay back, disappointed that my own figment had blown me out. No dream-sex for me tonight. So I spread my legs and slid my finger across my moist lips. Ashley groaned and pressed a hand to his face as I circled my fingers. Small wet sounds reached my ears.
“April, please. You must stop this.”
“No. You have to stay and watch me come.”
“I have to do no such thing. I’m leaving.”
“Please?” I’d pushed him too far.
“Why?” He seemed angry that I should want him to play. Why was this man of my dreams being so stubborn? Maybe I needed to try harder. I slipped a finger inside me, then another.
“You’re not even tempted? “
“Of course I’m tempted!” he snapped.
“Then give into it. Come down here and play with me.” This fantasy business was proving difficult. Why wouldn’t he just play? His eyes went to my pussy, which was deliciously slippery. Abandoning any pretence, I rolled my hips as I fingered myself, pushing out my lips into a pout. My breath hissed through my clenched teeth. I was hot for some fun, and I wanted Ashley—dream Ashley, at least—to help me play.
He stepped toward me, and I grinned. “Come get me.” I spread my legs a little further. But it was too much. Ashley spun on his heel and hurried out of the room.
“What? Nooo…” Why did my fantasy refuse to cooperate? Crushed, I pulled out my fingers, but kept circling my clit, in case he changed his mind. I wanted to be ready for him, because there was no way he could resist me.
Except he did.
I kept myself hot for as long as could keep my eyes open. I didn’t get as far as an orgasm, but I was aching for someone to touch me, to satisfy me. I drifted toward sleep with my legs still spre
ad, and the blanket on the floor beside me. It was only in the last few seconds, that it occurred to me; I might not be in a fantasy after all. The horrified thought made me snatch up the blanket and cover myself, too late to salvage my dignity.
Chapter 5
When I next woke, the sun was spearing into the chalet, drawing dazzling squares on the floor. My face burned as I recalled the events of the early morning. The moment I heard Ashley moving around, I pulled the blanket over my head and hid my stupid, slutty face.
When he tried to ease it away, I held it tightly, shaking my head.
“Leave me alone.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, April.”
“Did you get amnesia? Did you forget what a stupid little slut I was last night?” I pulled harder at the blanket.
“One of the listed side effects of the pain killer I injected is vasodilation, dilation of the capillaries.”
“It doesn’t mean I get to act like a whore.”
“You weren’t in control. Your body became unusually sensitive, and desired physical contact.”
“I’m so embarrassed. I can’t look you in the eye.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He tried to ease the blanket from my head, but I clung to it. I’d tried to entice him into my arms. I’d spread my legs and begged him to touch me. There was no excuse for the way I’d behaved.
“Okay,” he said at last. His grip on the blanket eased. “I will cook breakfast. Perhaps hunger will persuade you into the open.”
“I’m never coming out of here. Please call a helicopter, or a sled team to take me away.”
“I give you ten minutes.”
~
He was right, damn him. Once the smell of bacon reached me, I struggled to stay on the sofa. The blanket slid from my head and I inhaled deeply, relishing the wonderful aroma. I groaned. What was a girl supposed to do?
I resisted for another sixty seconds before giving in. Still feeling sheepish, I put my feet on the floor and dressed as quickly as I could, staying as low as possible. Not that it mattered, really. He’d seen everything I had to offer. And offer it I had, in spades. My cheeks burned at the memory. But the fact he’d been so dismissive of my outrageous behavior gave me some comfort. Plus he’d been strong enough to resist me, whereas I’d given into my sexual urges and offered myself to him on a plate. God knows what would have happened if his resolve had crumbled. We’d have been at it like rabbits, most likely.
Shifters Mountain Page 2