Cherry Adair - T-flac 06 (30 page)

He held her saturated body tightly against his, legs and arms tangled, and rolled again. She didn't make a sound as he crushed her between his weight and the unyielding surface. Water sprayed off her clothing as he rolled over and over and over, until he was positive the ice was rock solid, and wasn't going to give beneath them.

"Hang on, Lily." His voice came swift and soft, hushed in the night, but he wanted to keep her conscious, aware. "We're almost safe, sweetheart. Almost there. We'll have a fire. Get warm."

"
Warm
," she repeated, her voice a ghost of its usual strength.

That scared him. She was bone white and damn near frozen. But that wasn't all he had to worry about.

Somewhere out there was a sniper who might just be itching to finish his job.

Blinding white shimmered and glittered in the moon's light. Every second they were out there on the ice was another second closer to a bullet in the back. Or the head. Or—There was no cover. Not even a cloud across the moon.

Eventually they hit the bank. Derek realized he'd been holding his breath, waiting for the sudden impact.

He staggered to his feet, taking Lily's dead weight up with him. Water streamed down her body; her head fell limply against his chest as he swung her up into his arms and ran.

Both teams of dogs waited up the bank in the shelter of an outcropping of rocks and shrubs. They moved restively as he carried Lily toward them, barking insanely and watching him with anxious eyes.

Derek carefully lowered Lily down his body until her feet touched the ground. Her knees buckled.

Bracing his knee between her legs to keep her upright, he held her upper arm firmly as she swayed.

Skin ashen, eyes unfocused, she gave him a puzzled look under lashes crusted with ice. "I'm a little p-penguin s-s-short and s-s-stout," she told him solemnly, voice slurred.

"That would be a teapot, sweetheart. I'm going to have you warm in a moment. Hang in there." The dysarthria worried the hell out of him. But slurred speech was going to be the least of her problems if he didn't hurry. He ripped off her wringing-wet hat and tossed it aside, took her long braid in his fist and squeezed out the water, then yanked his scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around her wet hair.

Minimizing heat loss, especially from her head, was the top priority.

Limp as a rag doll, she was conscious, barely, as she stood swaying in his hold. If he didn't have such a tight grip on her arm she would've crumpled at his feet.

"Stay with me, sweetheart," he told her roughly, as he yanked off his own hat and tugged it around her face and neck. The scarf would keep the inside dry while giving enough bulk to hold it on. "In a minute you're going to think you're lying on the beach in Hawaii."

Bullshit. She wasn't shivering. Bad sign. The most important thing was to warm her torso first.

She frowned up at him. "Know w-who you look like?"

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Who, darling?" He ripped open her water-heavy sheepskin coat as she watched him with dazed eyes, cheeks pale, lips tinged blue.

"Derek." She lowered her voice to a slurred, conspiratorial whisper. "I d-dream about him, you know."

"Do you?"

Her eyes fluttered closed as she sagged against him. He made a grab for her and gave her a little shake.

"Stay with me, baby. Tell me what you dream."

Her coat off, Derek grabbed the hem of her sweater and tugged it over her head. She slapped ineffectually at his hands, ataxia making her clumsy. "N-no way, b-b-buster. S-stop!"

"Just trying to get you warm." He found the buttons on her icy shirt, ripped them open and tugged the heavy wool off her shoulders and down her arms. Then he yanked her silk thermal undershirt over her head until she stood before him, shuddering, half naked in the moonlight, her skin marble pale and gleaming wet.

He briskly started rubbing her upper body with the extra scarf he carried in his pocket.

She scowled. "Th-this does
not
feel like m-my—n't hot and s-s-steamy—t-this h-hurts! Ow! S-stop it!"

"Good. Good that it hurts, Lily," Derek muttered, keeping his movements brisk and his words soft.

Jesus, she was cold. He kept up the friction. Waiting in vain for her skin to warm.

"Derek h-hurts m-me, t-t-too." She wiggled halfheartedly, trying to escape. Damned if he'd let her.

"Derek hurts you?" he asked, and told himself he was only keeping her talking because it kept her awake—aware.

"H-h-he w-wants m-me."

"Yeah," Derek muttered, still rubbing her fiercely with his scarf. "He does."

"B-b-but on'y now."

"Now and always, sweetheart."

"Uh-uh." She wagged her head drunkenly, shoving at his hands with her frozen fingers. "D-der'k n-n-not an al-ways m-man."

Those few frozen words punched at him and felt like dozens of icy knives piercing his flesh and scraping at his heart.

"He's not?" Don't engage, he told himself as he scrubbed at her skin with the scarf. Don't pay attention.

She's half out of her mind.

"N-n-not f-f-for m-m-me," she whispered and gave a sigh that tore at him. Then she tried to pull away.

"H-h-hurts."

She was so weak, her attempt at escape was pitiful. He continued rubbing her dry as quickly as he could
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

despite her protests. "I know, sweetheart. I know it hurts. Almost done. I have to get you dry. Ah, hell.

Don't cry."

Trying his damnedest to ignore the tears running down her ashen cheeks, he tossed the thick wool scarf aside and yanked off his coat, which he'd kept on to retain some of his own body heat before transferring it to her. Stuffing her arms through the armholes was like trying to corral an octopus, but he finally succeeded and zipped it closed, then snugged the collar up around her face. He brushed the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs.

She looked so forlorn it tore his heart. "God, Lily." Her name ripped from his throat like a prayer tossed to an unaware heaven. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her briefly, more for his sake than hers. He needed this moment. One moment, to hold her. To assure himself she was alive. Safe.

But even as he thought it, he knew she wasn't safe. Not yet.

"T-think I'll t-t-take a lil n-nap now."

"I know you're tired, sweetheart," he assured her, heart twisting. "I know." Blocking emotion from his brain, Derek knew he had to raise her core temperature. Fast. She wilted in his grip and he swung her up in his arms again and ran to her sled.

The sled was totaled from being dragged and bounced, first across the ice, and then up the rocky bank, most of it on its side. Her gear was strapped to what was left.

"I'll get you guys unstrapped soon," he told the dogs. "Lily first." One-handed, he unclasped the straps and started ripping out what he'd need.

Sleeping bag first.

He snapped open her tarp, spread the bag on it and lowered her gently. With a deft economy of movement he slid his hands under the coat she was bundled in and yanked down her soaking-wet pants and long underwear, and pulled two pairs of thick wool socks onto her feet. He rolled her, unzipped the thermal bag and stuffed her inside it. Then he zipped it up to cover her head and face.

Jesus. He wasn't moving fast enough. He scraped his hands roughly up and down her length, rubbing the sleeping bag and the frozen woman beneath.

"Shiver, sweetheart. Come on. Start shivering. Please." He desperately wanted to crawl into the bag with her and warm her. But there were things he needed to do first. He just hoped to God he could do them fast enough to keep her alive.

"Arrow. Come." Derek arranged Lily's dogs around her in a tight circle. Arrow, her lead dog, rested her head on Lily's shoulder and watched Derek with trusting eyes. Dingbat huffed worriedly as he settled his chin and one paw on Lily's belly, watching his every move as Derek scavenged enough bits of wood to start a fire and put a pot of snow on to boil.

Next, he unstrapped his tent and sleeping bag and set up camp as fast as he'd ever done in his life. By the time the tent was up, the water was boiling merrily in the pot. He found Lily's hot water bottles and filled them, wrapped them in several of his T-shirts and tucked them into his own sleeping bag inside the tent and close to the fire.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Next he grabbed his duffel, the large Thermos off his sled and his rifle, and tucked everything inside the tent.

There was a chance the sniper hadn't stayed to watch his arrival. A chance, slim, but a
chance
the bastard thought he'd done what he'd come for, and was gone.

Derek didn't like the odds. Not when Lily was part of the equation.

Didn't matter how much he wanted to go after the son of a bitch, she was his top priority right now. Still, he placed both his weapons near the entrance to the tent. Ready.

"Okay, kids," he told the dogs softly as they looked up at his approach. "I've got her. Good job."

He picked Lily up, sleeping bag and all, and carried her the few feet to the tent.

Once inside he held her upright as he unzipped her from her sleeping bag. She emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon. Knowing skin-to-skin contact would warm her up the fastest, he hesitated. He wasn't about to chance having to haul ass after the bad guy buck naked in the snow at a moment's notice. He opened his shirt and pushed his pants down, then quickly unwrapped her from his heavy coat and climbed into the bottle-warmed sleeping bag with her.

Jesus. She was cold as ice. But at least she'd started shivering—a good sign. Derek tucked her hands under his armpits, curling his body around hers to have as much skin contact as possible. He sandwiched her legs between his own, then wrapped his arms around her, spreading his hands on her icy back and butt, and pulled her tightly against him, her face tucked into his neck.

He immediately started shivering himself.

She moaned as he moved his arm out of the bag to reach for the Thermos close by.

"F-freezing."

"I know, love. But you're going to be okay."

"Hmm. C-cold. N-n-not w-wet."

"Right. Now, let's get you warm from the inside, sweetheart." One-handed, he managed to uncap the large Thermos, then poured half a cup of Annie's minestrone.

The soup steamed gently as he put the wide-mouthed cup to her mouth. "Soup. Open."

She managed to part her lips, but her teeth chattered so hard she couldn't unclench them. "S-sorry."

Derek stared at the cup, then took a sip, concentrating on the liquid and leaving the vegetables in the cup. The soup was savory and hot enough to burn his tongue. He touched his mouth to Lily's, and when she opened her mouth, transferred the soup from his mouth to hers.

She moaned with pleasure as the hot liquid slid down her throat. He took another sip and repeated the process until the cup was empty. "More?"

"Nuh-uh. N-nuff. S-s-still c-c-cold!"

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"I know, sweetheart, you'll be warm soon."

"N-never."

Concerned, he nevertheless chuckled. "Yeah. I know it feels like it. Think hot thoughts. Think Hawaii.

Sun. Heat. Making love on the beach."

"
Mm-mm
g-g-good?"

Hypothermia 101. Moving muscles provided body heat. He crushed her cold mouth with his. Nothing gentle now. Beside the urgency he felt with her naked body pressed against his length was the imperative urgency to get her warm.

Slowing down, he grazed her mouth with a light-as-a-feather touch. Tilting his head from side to side at the same time to seductively brush her lips, he then sucked her lower lip inside the wet cavern of his mouth.

Her mouth opened readily under his and she invited him in, her tongue a full participant.

Heat rose in Lily like a distant memory. She wanted to touch him, but her hands were clamped tightly beneath his arms. She pressed her breasts against the hard plane of his chest, brushed her nipples against the crisp hair there and shuddered, not from cold, but from the sharp, sweet sensation shooting from the tips of her breasts to deep inside her. Not even an iceberg stood a chance against the rising heat she felt inside as he laved her mouth with kisses, deep and wet.

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath as he brushed warm fingers across her cold cheek, then held her face cupped in his large hand as he continued kissing her as though to stop would be the end of the world. His other hand ran up and down her back, pressing her tightly against him to the furnace heat of his body with spread fingers.

He kissed her in as many ways as Eskimos had for saying snow.

Slow kisses. Fast kisses. Hot kisses. A hot breeze as he blew gently on her damp mouth, then heated her beyond boiling as he ran the tip of his tongue slowly along the middle of the roof of her mouth, then softened it to explore her teeth and gums, causing Lily to moan with pleasure.

He was an excellent kisser. He didn't just kiss, he made love to her mouth as if nothing else mattered in the world than giving her sublime pleasure through their seeking lips. He drew away slightly to give her a moment to draw in an uneven breath, two, three—Then, as if he couldn't wait another heartbeat to have his mouth on her, his tongue delved deeply into her mouth with long, sure strokes. Heat poured through her veins like hot champagne, her breasts ached, her nipples felt almost painfully erect.

The hard, silken heat of his erection brushed against the cleft of her thighs and she shifted restively, her legs firmly sandwiched between his so she couldn't move but a scant, suggestive inch back and forward.

He hummed with pleasure. His mouth moved from her swollen lips; Lily murmured a protest, but he'd already found her next favorite place for him to kiss as he placed the furnace of his open mouth against her jaw, taking small, stinging bites along the way. Lily's throat arched and she hummed low in her throat as he skimmed his mouth between her neck and collarbone, then laved damp kisses along the ridge.