Hidden Michael

by Victoria Pinder

  Her ears went numb.

  Above the trees, the storm clouds shifted and allowed her to gaze halfway up a mountain. She did a double take and rubbed the back of her neck. A huge mansion, or hotel, or some large, all-white building became visible. Was it the hotel on the GPS? She rubbed her eyes. The huge house was the answer, though every window was dark. Was this a trick of her mind, or did visions happen only in deserts?

  This drive up to Maine in a storm had been desperate and stupid. She had no idea what to do now. She swallowed, and ice rushed into her lungs. The wind howled, and she shivered. She should have bought a ski jacket. Winter sucked. She’d never seen snow until this trip, and now she wanted the warm beaches of Miami back.

  The cold seeped into her skin. Her fingers shook as she took the keys out of the hissing car. She reached for her pocketbook. Would the car blow up? She took a step back, and the car went quiet.

  Then she turned on her phone and tried again. No service. She bit her lower lip and stared up the mountain. The night was black, as the snow-laden clouds hid the moon completely from sight. She racked her brain. The mansion was halfway up on some sort of ledge.

  Then the wind and the fog blocked everything, and the house was no longer visible.

  She turned back to her car. Should she wait? She doubted anyone drove on this road. She’d be found frozen in the spring.

  No. Her mother needed her. She’d not seen any other cars in the past few hours, and no one would come to help her. An abandoned house or hotel still would have supplies to survive this.

  Something wet brushed her face. She blinked, and it happened again. It was too cold to be rain. Then she saw her breath in a cloud. The snowflakes now seemed heavier.

  If she waited, she’d die.

  Her gaze took in everything. The darkness made the white snow appear worse than a gun in her face. The dead trees closer to the road gave no signs of shelter. The winds howled through the evergreen forest and caused another shiver down through her sneakers. Her limbs were nearly frozen already. She took a step and almost fell. Her toes were numb.

  She swallowed hard. She grabbed her pocketbook and began hiking up the road. Her feet became so cold that the mechanics of every step took all her strength.

  Her fingers iced inside her gloves. She closed her eyes and imagined a fire. Someone had to live in that huge place. To warm herself, she blew on her gloves, not that it helped. The ground underneath her feet became more jagged. She must have made her way up past the embankment of the paved road.

  She almost turned back to stare at how far she’d gone, but the cold, wet snow melted on her neck to remind her she needed shelter fast.

  The fog almost tricked her senses into believing that the storm wasn’t that bad. Her teeth chattered. Ice settled on her eyelashes as she reached the top of the road.

  Erica shivered and hugged herself. She narrowed her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. Then her heart lifted out of her chest. Halfway up the mountain and to her right sat the huge chateau. Climbing up the small mountain was her only solution.

  She’d been right.

  A place like that would have a working phone or computer.

  She’d have to climb through half the dead trees and through the evergreen forest to get there, but hiking the mountain couldn’t be that bad. She swore her legs were still attached to her body. In pictures, people made mountains look beautiful.

  She stared down the road. The thick fog made the bottom of the hill disappear. Erica rolled her shoulders. She had no other option.

  Her icy hands reminded her she didn’t have much time. She turned to start up the mountain as fast as she could. She was wearing running shoes, not boots made for ice, and every step became more slippery while the wind pelted her.

  She slipped again and fell to her knees. The water on her limbs made her feel everything, but she kept up her march. The snowy bottom cushioned her falls, but she had to climb.

  The mansion didn’t have any lights on.

  Erica willed her legs to continue and took another step. Then another. Even if the darkness inside the building remained, she’d have a better chance inside than out.

  A smile grew on her face. In the warmth of Miami, she’d never wish for snow again.

  She lost the sensation in her fingers. The wind lashed her skin. To find a second of warmth, she rubbed her hands on her legs, but she kept on her forward trek. The snow hit hard, more like ice. It was worse than snow. Did snow freeze too?

  With her gaze on the ground, she stumbled a few times but dragged herself up, determined to keep going. She refused to succumb to the dense fog that became so thick she couldn’t see her hands. Erica Mira would not die in the middle of nowhere without leaving her mark on this world. She’d not leave her mother alone in this world. She had to keep trudging through this mess. Her sister had already abandoned both of them.

  The massive building sat in the field across from her. The white walls reflected off the moon that peaked through the storm. The mansion was at least three floors, with big windows and no lights on inside.

  A howl came from behind her.

  Wolves? Her legs wanted to run, but she couldn’t lift them. She ran her hands down her body, which was now just as numb as her feet. She rubbed her thighs to keep her circulation flowing. Salvation wasn’t far now.

  At the massive wooden door, she touched the doorbell, but it was frozen. The metal iced through her numbed fingers.

  No noise greeted her ears. Had the bell rung?

  Her heart raced again.

  She banged, but she couldn’t make much noise.

  The wind chilled her blood even more.

  Desperate, she turned the handle; the door opened. She stepped inside the black-as-night room. “Hello?”

  Her voice echoed through the darkened hall. The walls kept the wind outside, but Erica’s body trembled.

  She stared above her and toward the walls and slowly her gaze adjusted. Dust rested on everything from the abandoned front desk to the picture frames. She stepped back, and her hand caught in cobwebs in the corner as she reached for electricity. She flipped the switch, but no light came on. She jumped, but her limbs were numb. The white marble floor appeared dull beneath its layer of dust. Marble wasn’t good for her right now. Erica marched in place to stay warm.

  A cold wind inched up her back from some unseen force. A dull light helped her see in the room. Beyond the lobby desk of the forgotten hotel was a grand room littered with linen-draped furniture, but it was the portrait of a beautiful blonde woman that captured her. The dust didn’t dull the vividness in the portrait. The coldness in the blue eyes that stared at Erica sent chills through her body.

  She wanted to run back outside, but she refused to die out there. She had to live. She breathed harder. With a gulp of air, she wished she had traveled with someone. Her chest was so heavy now, and every breath she took was a struggle. If she’d brought a friend or even her wayward sister, it would have made the dark, black, dirty windows less menacing.

  There had to be a warmer room inside the house.

  Clack.

  She froze near the door, then jerked around. What was that? She ran her hands over her heart and tried to stop the panic in her chest. The wind or branches scraped the windows.

  A shadow came closer. She pressed her lips together. “Hello?”

  The noise had come from the back of the house. She withheld a scream and went toward the noise. She needed to find something warmer to stop the cold, but she had nowhere to go. The sound called to her soul.

  Nothing stirred.

  She blinked.

  Her mind fogged up. Outside sent her brain into a tailspin. She needed warmth.

  Boom.

  Her ears buzzed and registered the sound, and she clutched the doorknob.

  Crackle.

  Fire. She let the handle go. Someone had started a fire. Her chest craved warmth. She’d live through this. She imagined a fireplace and headed toward the sound in the ot
her room.

  Pictures stared at her as she walked down the dark hall, so she bowed her head. She’d find the fireplace. She had to. She walked unsteadily until she reached double sliding doors. She pressed her trembling hands onto the wood and realized she walked on hardwood floors now. She slid open the doors and her chin jerked up. She stepped into a cozy room and smiled at the fire in the huge fireplace, with bookshelves all around. This place was her dream, and she fell to her knees.

  The fire hypnotized her.

  “Who the hell are you?” a male voice demanded from behind her.

  She shivered, then turned to see. Who was this dark-haired man?

  Her vision blurred. She narrowed her eyes and pushed past the black spots that swam in her vision. A well-built, muscular man with flannel pajama bottoms and dark, unkempt hair stood at a side door.

  She rubbed her forehead. Her jaw chattered. “E . . . ri . . . ca.”

  “Who are you? Why are you in my house?”

  “C . . . ol . . . d.”

  He tilted his head and stared hard at her with his almost black eyes. “Your clothes are soaking wet. How are you not dead?”

  Her lips parted. She guessed he wouldn’t throw her out to die. Her gaze went to the ceiling, then back to him. The man had the bone structure of an avenging angel statue seen in churches across the globe. She bowed her head. She blinked and stared at his big, full lips and square jaw. Angels were warm.

  He stepped back. “I’ll be right back.”

  She pressed her lips together and tried to tell him to stay. No words formed. He walked out another door at the other end of the room. She chewed her lip and collapsed fully on the floor. Her teeth chattered, and she shook her head. She wouldn’t die, not now.

  He’d left a mug of something hot on a nearby table. Her lips parted and she dragged herself to the table. Finally, she sniffed the drink. The smell seemed familiar, but her nose didn’t seem to work. Who was he? What was he? She’d never seen such broad shoulders.

  Another shiver escaped her. He could be a murderer. He could be on the phone with the police. Whoever he was, the thought of his brown eyes sent a thrill down her body. She sounded stupid to herself right now, and she ought to go, but that was not a choice given her situation.

  She tried to stand and head toward the door, but she stumbled. Her feet were like lead. Instead, she dragged herself back to the drink, and the aroma of creamy hot chocolate filled her nostrils. Her fingers reached out for the cup.

  Her hands trembled, but the warmth of the mug steadied her fingers. Finally, she lifted the glass and gulped some of the hot liquid.

  She’d pay him back.

  Then another shiver coursed through her body and she lost the ability to think again.

  She struggled but managed to put the cup back on the table.

  The unpaid bills on her coffee table at home floated through her mind.

  Then she shook so badly that she fell backward, and her backside hit the floor. Her jeans were soaked. The ice inside her bones was so intensely cold.

  The button of her jeans didn’t want to release. She’d not dry if she was soaked. With a sigh, she managed to pull off her gloves and warm her hands by the fire.

  He returned with a blanket and clothes. As he threw the blanket over her shoulders, a hint of pine and sandalwood tickled her nose, and he pulled her back to the couch. His tempting scent dissipated while she shook violently.

  “Hold on, ma’am. You’re not going to die on me. I’ve nowhere to bury you.”

  Bury her? Those words blasted in her ears while he took off her shoes. Her body continued to shake. She didn’t stop him. Her body wasn’t hers. Her vision dissipated into floating black circles. She blinked and even her eyelashes bore icicles. Her head was light.

  He pulled off her wet sneakers.

  Her heart beat faster.

  He reached up to strip off her jacket, and again, she let him. It wasn’t like she could struggle. He wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, then went to her shirt buttons. She tried to nod, but she couldn’t do more than stare at the ground.

  Would he rape her in a minute? Her breaths were heavier and took a harder toll on her, but even in a weakened state, she realized no. The dark-haired angel had helped her.

  “Keep the blanket on, ma’am, or I can leave if you’re able to dress yourself. But we need to get you out of your wet clothes before hypothermia kills you.”

  Her jaw chattered, and every moment grew worse. Her hands shook uncontrollably. “I c-c-can-n’t.”

  He nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes off you.”

  When he reached for her blouse to strip if off her shoulders, she frowned. Her gaze stayed cloudy. Naked near a stranger sounded like a bad idea, even if the man had those big, smoldering eyes. But her shoulders twitched the moment they were free from her wet clothes.

  He dropped the shirt and jacket on her shoes and fixed the blanket tighter around her waist. “We have to get you dry and warm. You’re not helping yourself. Just relax. I won’t hurt you. But we need to get your jeans off next.”

  She shook her head, but her chest seemed warmer. Her teeth still chattered, though.

  “Look to the couch. I brought you dry clothes and another blanket. You’ll be warm.”

  Doesn’t mean you won’t hurt me. Her mind screamed out crazy thoughts. She had to trust him. She’d broken into his house. Her hand went to his arm, and the warmth burned into her. She nodded and swallowed.

  He adjusted the blanket, then lifted her body up to yank off her jeans. Her body was limp and numb. If he raped her, she wouldn’t feel anything.

  He threw the jeans onto the heap and readjusted the blanket around her. She sighed as his skin brushed hers, and he shook his head. “You’re soaked right through. It’s time to get you dressed.”

  He reached for the red plaid clothes behind him. Whoever he was, he was her dark savior. Her body heat rose from his hands on her waist, and he picked her up to stand. She stumbled and had no balance. He kept her steady and struggled to unfold the red flannel plaid. The heat went through her, but she stared at him.

  She burned when he slid his hands down her body to keep her on her feet.

  In his arms, she became warmer than the fire, but her entire body was numb. He shook his head and stared at her forehead. A moment later, he picked her up to desposit her on the couch next to the clothes.

  “Your underwear and bra are soaked through. Are you able to finish this yourself?” He reached next to him to pick up the red warm flannel. Her eyes didn’t quite take it in. “If you drop the blanket and reach up, we’ll get this on you fast.”

  She struggled in her blanket and instead reached for her bra, but her fingers shook uncontrollably.

  “Erica, whoever you are, put your hands up and get on this nightgown first. It will help you.”

  She heard her heavy breaths, but her body shook violently. Then she closed her eyes and dropped the blanket. Her breasts brushed against his chest for an instant, and then he took her hands in his to hold. Her eyes opened as he struggled to get her wrists inside the sleeves. She let out a snort and realized she needed to trust him the second the nightgown covered her.

  “Can you get to your bra and underwear?”

  She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t make a sound.

  He nodded, then reached behind her nightgown to unsnap her bra. “My wife used to wiggle her bra off and stay dressed.”

  Used to. Past tense. Her lips ached to kiss him, but Erica shook her head. She wasn’t herself.

  He gulped, reached inside the nightgown, and traced her legs to her underwear. If he had wanted to rape her, it would have been easier without the nightgown. Now, though, her legs had sparks of life from where he brushed her raw skin. A moment later, he tugged her cotton underwear down, and the cold wetness of the material chilled the sparks.

  Freed from the cold, she pushed herself into his massive chest and broad shoulders and brushed her hands on his back.


  “Hell. What are you doing?”

  She licked her chapped lips. “W-warm . . . Y-y-you . . . you’re h-ot,” she managed.

  As he hugged her for a moment, he closed his eyes. “Body heat will help you, I suppose.”

  He tucked her closer in his arms, and she breathed better. The man had an olive tone to his skin, and the smell of pine and sandalwood left her unable to think of anything else. His warmth stopped the insistent shivers that raced through her. The heat inside her grew warmer, but not entirely. She’d not lose him. Her brown-eyed angel made her body tingle. She jostled her hips and scooted right into his manhood. A lightness went through her and made her giddy. She traced his body with her fingers while he whispered in her ear, “Stop. Don’t do that, sweetheart. I’m helping you.”

  Her muscles were awakened. Would sex warm her? She scooted backward. The question made no sense. The heat she had inside exploded every time she stared into his tantalizing brown eyes, and right now joining with him was all she could imagine. She rubbed her forehead. This was crazy. She made no sense to herself right now. Sex was not the answer.

  Her hands trailed down his strong thigh. Unlike the rest of her family, Erica Mira never took chances. She never threw caution to the wind. Perhaps her near-death moment or how her knees buckled near this stranger drove her. She licked her parched lips and then decided to follow her instincts.

  She pushed herself up to kiss this beautiful, dark stranger. His skin smelled of oak, and her body loosened to wrap herself closer to him while her lips found his. She sighed and pressed herself into him, and his mouth ravaged hers for a split second.

  He stood up and wiped his lips. “You’re delirious.”

  The fire inside her grew, though she couldn’t speak. The desire in his eyes melted some of the ice.

  “I’ve not been near a woman since my wife died.” He turned away from her and stared into the fire. “And I don’t take advantage of people.”

  Shivers ran through her without him next to her. She didn’t even know the man’s name, yet she had visions of his naked body in hers. She stared at his back and tried to take stock. She needed to survive. “Th-ank . . . y-you.”