Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  She nodded.

  It was slow going with the need to make sure every handhold could support their combined weight against the current. More than one branch snapped, but he managed to get them both to the side.

  He took her hands and placed them in the network of roots extending from the beaver-gnawed trunk that was firmly embedded in the bank. She’d have to find the strength to climb on her own. The roots would snap under their combined weight.

  She struggled to grip the slick roots.

  “You can do it, honey.”

  She nodded and pulled herself upward. Inch by slow inch, she emerged from the river and climbed over the log to land. Thank goodness overhanging branches shrouded them, or they’d make a clear target for whoever had zapped them earlier.

  She collapsed on the bank while he pulled himself up and out, then dropped to the mossy ground beside her. The low overhanging tree provided adequate cover. They could take a moment to catch their breath before getting the hell away from the deadly river.

  He pulled her against him, seriously concerned about her intense shaking. Her deathly pale face and blue lips didn’t instill confidence they’d escaped the river before hypothermia had taken hold.

  “I d-d-on’t know w-what’s worse.” Her words were broken with chattering teeth and stuttering speech. “The fr-igid w-ater or the c-c-old air.”

  Shit. They were three miles from the main buildings. He grabbed his phone from his soaking backpack. Waterlogged and useless. “We’ll go to the prove-up cabin.” He touched her cheek. The half mile to the cabin might still be too far. Her boots were gone, lost to the river. “Can you hike barefoot? The cabin has electricity, a fireplace. Everything we need to get you warm.” There was also a direct radio link to the compound. “I can carry you, but we’ll get there faster if you can walk.”

  She nodded.

  He dropped a kiss on her cold lips. “That’s my girl.” He stood and pulled her to her feet.

  “W-hat if…what if wh-wh-oever z-apped us is w-w-aiting at the cabin?”

  Alec drew his gun from his back holster; thankfully, it hadn’t been dislodged as he slammed into rocks in the river. “Infrasound is directional. Trees—or water—can break infrasound waves. If you feel a sudden headache, or any other infrasound-like symptoms, take cover.” He checked the load on his gun and chambered a round. “Leave it to me to hunt the bastard down.”

  Isabel proved her strength as she hiked barefoot without complaint or hesitation. She held up as well as many soldiers he knew. As soon as they were safe, he’d strip off her wet, miserable clothes and warm her.

  They reached the crest of a steep hill, affording them a limited view through trees to the south and east. Twenty yards of open space separated them from the safety of the cabin. When they were inside, he could commandeer a damn tank if he wanted and take out the bastards who’d forced her to swim down a glacier-fed river—less than ten miles downstream from the actual frigging mile-thick melting glacier.

  Beside him, her body shook uncontrollably. Alarmingly. The clicking of her chattering teeth rebuked him for his failure. He had to get her warm. Keeping the cabin in view, he grabbed her shoulders and positioned her against the trunk of the nearest spruce, then took her hands in his. Her fingers were ice, but his weren’t much better. He lifted his shirt and placed her cold hands against his belly. His skin might be cold and damp, but she was even colder.

  Her hands slid up to his chest, leaving an icicle trail in her wake. “Surprisingly, this isn’t a come-on.”

  “I know, honey.” He turned to study the structure below. “It’ll take me a moment to type in my security code to unlock the cabin. While I do that, I want you to tuck in between me and the cabin, so no one can get a clear line of sight at you.”

  In this condition, if they were both hit by infrasound, he might not be able to hold it together long enough to get her inside. This way, only he’d take the hit. She’d be okay.

  “Can you run for the door?”

  She nodded.

  “You are one in a million, honey. On three.” He counted, and they both sprinted through the open space.

  Halfway, she stumbled. He scooped her up and ran. At the door, he pressed her between the wall and his body as planned, and punched in his code.

  The click of the lock releasing was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. He lifted her again and carried her inside, then slammed the door closed with his foot. Still holding her with one arm, he slid the manual bolt home and punched in the code to arm the security system and relock the door.

  Far better than the structure Isabel had taken Alec to on Thursday, the prove-up cabin had originally been a basic one-room log home built by a homesteader—a requirement to prove he would live here and work the land—but had been expanded over the years. Alec had added his own embellishments after he purchased the company. It now boasted indoor plumbing, electricity, and bulletproof windows—a necessity with the live-fire trainings. Between the thick log walls and hardy glass, they were safe.

  He set Isabel on her feet and pulled the damp top from her body, wishing this were a different circumstance to be stripping her, but he was seriously worried by the bluish tinge to her skin. “Finish undressing while I build a fire,” he said.

  He turned to the fireplace and opened the damper, then threw in a fire-starter log and a bunch of kindling. No time to finesse the job. He lit the wrapper on the starter log, then turned to see Isabel fumbling with her pants, unable to work the button.

  He helped her. The lightweight hiking pants easily came off even when wet, and were made of a special fabric that wicked away moisture and dried quickly, which was probably the only reason her body hadn’t completely shut down on the hike to the cabin. There was blood on her waist. A scrape from the river. Warmth first, then he’d check out her wound.

  He shucked his own shirt, then turned back to the fire. The kindling hadn’t caught yet, but he tossed in a log anyway, hoping he wouldn’t kill the meager flame. It was more important that he help Isabel. After she was warm, he could worry about the damn fire.

  She stood in the center of the room, almost in a daze, shivering.

  She was in trouble.

  With the knife from his belt, he cut his bootlaces, no time to untie the wet leather. Thus freed, he stepped out of the boots and stripped out of his pants and socks. Naked but for boxer briefs, he scooped her in his arms and carried her to the bed. After pulling the thick comforter aside, he placed her in the center, then slipped in beside her, covering them both with flannel sheets, wool blanket, and down comforter.

  He gathered her against him, her cold body pressed to his as he whispered encouraging words. She was a helluva hiker and outdoorswoman but lacked bulk to keep warm or the training to power through trying physical circumstances.

  He held her tight while she tried to burrow into him. “Mmmm,” she said. “You feel heavenly.”

  Hardly—his skin wasn’t much warmer than hers, but being skin to skin and covered by blankets he too was beginning to warm.

  He kissed her forehead as he lowered his hands to the scrap of wet fabric that covered her butt. This last bit of modesty was ridiculous in this circumstance, and he peeled off her panties, wishing the first time he got his hands on her luscious ass had been part of foreplay.

  She snuggled closer with her hands pressed flat on his chest. They weren’t as cold as they’d been earlier. Her cheeks were already losing the bluish tinge in favor of a pink glow, but she was sleepy, her body seeking hibernation to conserve resources. He pulled her tighter and unhooked her bra, determined to rid her of the last of her wet clothing.

  Her eyes remained closed as she slid her hands over his chest in a sensual exploration, tracing muscles. She made a low purring sound and shifted to cup his ass, which was still covered by wet cotton briefs.

  He wanted nothing more than to enjoy the feel of her hands on his body, but his conscience made him pull back. Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t open her ey
es. “Closer,” she murmured.

  “No, Iz. You’re half-asleep and hypothermic. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Please, Alec. Warm me.” Her lips pressed to his chest, his throat, then moved upward and sought his mouth.

  Damn, how he wanted to go there. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not this way. “I am, honey. But that’s all I’m gonna do.”

  With a sleepy yet somehow wicked smile, she slid a hand between them and stroked his unwilling erection through his damp briefs. Jesus, he was hypothermic and exhausted, yet she gave him a woody that could put the Washington Monument to shame.

  But this wasn’t consent, and he wasn’t some asshole who couldn’t tell the difference. He lifted her hand from his cock and turned her over, so he could spoon against her back, keeping her warm but limiting her access to body parts that were more than eager for her touch. “Just let me hold you, Iz.”

  She wiggled her ass against his erection, and he groaned. He tightened his arm around her hips, limiting the friction she could create, and nipped at her neck. “If you don’t stop, I’ll get out of the bed.”

  She stilled immediately, indicating she might be more awake and aware of what she was doing than he suspected, but that didn’t weaken his resolve. He held her tight, being careful to place his hands well away from erogenous zones—and slowly her body relaxed against him as she drifted into a deep sleep.

  When he was certain her core temperature was near normal, he gently extracted himself from her side and the bed. He tucked the thick blankets around her. Her hair had dried and splayed across the pillow in a sexy tumble.

  God, how he wanted her. She was strong and brave and smart. She made him laugh, and when he watched her kneel by the marker where Vin died, he’d wanted to cry for her too. He could fall in love with her if he weren’t careful. But for now, he just wanted her. To make her laugh and take away her tears and to give her pleasure. But it would have to wait for a time when she was fully cognizant of the choice she was making.

  He’d meant it when he told her it was her move. She still didn’t quite trust him.

  He turned to the hearth and added another log to the fire. He rubbed a hand over his face as he considered what to do next. He needed to radio the compound. Operatives on ATVs could pick them up. They both needed dry clothes and Isabel needed boots. He glanced at his own boots and frowned. He also needed laces, although the parachute cord in his pack would serve in a pinch.

  Who the hell could he trust to bring them clothes and an ATV?

  He and Isabel had been hit with infrasound in a stealth attack at the most vulnerable moment of the lengthy hike, leaving him to wonder if they’d been followed, or if someone had been lying in wait, knowing he’d take her to the river where Vin crossed.

  Was that what had happened to Vin? Had he been chased across the river, but instead of swimming, he’d finished his crossing and tried to lose his pursuer in the woods?

  On that side of the river, he’d had no cabin to escape to, and having lost his pack when he fell into the icy water as a light snow fell, his fate was sealed. Whoever hunted Vin probably didn’t even have to follow to know he’d meet his death on the opposite bank, which explained the single set of footprints barely visible in the snow.

  Alec was certain he, Isabel, and Vincent had all been hit with infrasound. The question was, who had done it? And why?

  16

  Isabel woke slowly, a gradual easing into consciousness. She rolled to her side to take in the room and get her bearings, gazing through lashes to hide that she was more awake than asleep. The cabin was dim, cozy, and smelled like chocolate. Alec crouched in front of the hearth, a fire poker in his hands as he rearranged flaming logs that didn’t need rearranging.

  She remembered everything—the kiss by the river, the frigid water, his hands on her skin as he held her tight—but most importantly, she remembered running her hands over his body, over his erection, and the intense want that had coursed through her. Even now her body hummed with need. Not generic arousal. No. She wanted Alec Ravissant, and that desire filled her with shame.

  Evening sun spilled onto the floor in front of the windows. The only other light in the cabin came from the fire, which lit Alec with a warm, dancing glow. She opened her eyes fully to take in the sight. He was beautiful. Shirtless. The golden light played across his bare skin. Hard, corded muscle formed thick shoulders, and his wide chest tapered to a narrow waist. He’d been out of the Army for at least three years, but clearly he’d kept up with the hard physical training he’d maintained as a Ranger.

  The display of firelight on muscle was magnificent. She wanted to grab a mug of hot chocolate—which must be the warm, sweet scent that filled the room—and watch him for hours.

  He turned and met her gaze. “You’re awake.” The words were soft. Concerned. “How do you feel?”

  “Cold.” Regret shot through her. She shouldn’t have been flip. What if he offered to warm her again? She couldn’t say yes but didn’t want to say no.

  He nodded toward the hearth. “Move closer to the fire.”

  She gathered the comforter around her naked body and scooted to the edge of the bed. The room shifted as her head swam. Okay. She still wasn’t one hundred percent. With the blanket clutched tightly around her, she approached the hearth, wondering if it was the flames or the man she was drawn toward.

  Both had irresistible heat and the power to burn her.

  She stopped short of the circle of heat. Alec set the poker in the rack and turned to her. He grabbed the edges of the down comforter where they met at her breastbone and stepped backward, drawing her into the warmest spot in the room.

  The comforter had a slick, satiny texture against her bare skin, the pleasurable sensation intensified with proximity to Alec. She cleared her throat. “How long did I sleep?”

  “About two and a half hours.”

  “You missed your meeting with the new guy at the compound.”

  He shrugged. “You needed to rest and get your core temperature up.”

  “I’m sorry I…came on to you the way I did.” She felt her face flush; more proof her core temperature was back to normal.

  Alec’s carnal grin made her body flush even more. “I’m not.” The hands gripping the comforter tightened, causing the cloth to rub against her nipples, igniting an ache for something more. “And I hope you didn’t take my action as rejection. Make no mistake, Isabel; I want you. Very much. But you were in no condition to consent.”

  She’d been one hundred percent aware of what she was doing. The hypothermia had merely given her an excuse to ignore the voice of reason. Now that she was warm again, she was bereft of ways to quell her conscience. “For two people who are supposed to be enemies, we’ve spent a lot of time in each other’s arms in the last few days.”

  “Darling, I’m not your enemy. I never have been.” He released the comforter and stepped back, the hard line of his jaw indicating her words had irked him.

  It was probably better that way. She was feeling far too close and comfortable with him. It had to stop. She faced the fire. Gripping the blanket with one hand, she slipped her other arm out, exposing a shoulder, and reached toward the flames to warm her fingers.

  Behind her, Alec made a sound low in his throat. A tiger sort of noise—neither growl nor purr, but somehow, both.

  She glanced over her shoulder and caught the raw desire in his eyes. She reached for the blanket to cover her shoulder, causing it to gap even more.

  Alec grinned and sat on the couch. “No. Don’t cover yourself. I like the way the firelight matches your hair and makes your skin glow. I can handle looking without touching.”

  She pulled the blanket up. “Sounds like a dangerous game.”

  “I’m okay with dangerous.”

  She turned to fully face him, and stepped forward, loosening her grip on the blanket as she moved, so it slipped down, revealing both shoulders and the tops of her breasts. “Well then, this could be fun.�
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  Alec groaned. “I take it back. I’m not cut out for the rules you play by.”

  She pulled up the blanket and returned to the fire, which was strangely colder than standing bare-shouldered in front of Alec. “Without condoms, it’s game over anyway.”

  “Honey, there’s a helluva lot we can do without condoms.”

  Her body flooded with heat as her mind ran through all the things he could do to her with hands and mouth, and she was even more turned on by thoughts of the things she could do to him. The urge to kneel before him in the firelight and take him into her mouth was almost overwhelming. She wanted to feel his cock against her tongue, to make him groan her name as she sucked on him.

  She flushed as she realized she’d just licked her lips while staring at the bulge of his sweatpants. She met his gaze, and his eyes held raw hunger. His nostrils flared. He must know what she’d imagined; he’d probably envisioned something similar.

  She wanted to revel in his heat, explore every hard inch of him, and feed his hunger.

  “Also…we do have condoms.” His voice was a deep rumble of sound. She felt the vibration in her solar plexus. “In the supply closet, between the first aid kit and spare clothing.”

  She blew out a breath. Clothing. Yes. Focus on that. Clothing was armor to protect against base desires she’d only regret giving in to. “There’s dry clothes?” But of course there were; dry, clean sweatpants tented over his erection. Her gaze traveled over his sculpted abs and hard pecs as she remembered the play of firelight across his perfect torso. “Would it have killed you to put on a shirt?”

  He chuckled and stood, then scooped an item from the side table. “There was only one shirt and one pair of sweatpants, and I figured you’d want the shirt.” He held up a large hooded University of Alaska sweatshirt that was long enough to reach her upper thighs. He reached for the drawstring on his sweatpants. “But we can trade if you prefer.”