Taming Alaska (So Not Prince Charming Book 1) (23 page)

Don’t you dare leave me, Shane. How the hell am I supposed to find him?

The rope tugs back. “Shane!”

Fluffy powder settles on the slope, still curling and flowing but not at the breakneck pace that it was.

“Shane.” I blink back tears because he’s probably buried under a ton of snow. Stupid man. I should’ve gone first, so he could dig me out.

No sign of life moves across the white expanse. “Shane,” I scream.

I trudge across the deep snow, yelling his name. The wind sweeps around me, digging its claws into my shoulders and pushing me back. The steel grey clouds rush across the horizon above the peaks.

A third of the way across, I swivel around and scan below me. The exhaustion that had wiped me out is gone for the moment, but the higher I climb, the harder it is for me to breathe.

“Shane!” It’s hard to see through the waterfall of tears. I lift my sunglasses to wipe them away and then clean the lenses.

My gaze sweeps across the snow. Something wiggles about twenty feet out in front of me. At first, I think it’s a small animal trapped by the snow but then I realize fingers flutter, and it’s a hand.

I run—my ankle screaming in pain—toward it, tumbling to the ground, and crawl to the hand. It’s unsheathed, red and blotchy from the cold. My gloved hands dig around his hand. I uncover his forearm. His fingers stop moving and so does my breathing.

“Don’t die.”

I claw at the snow until I create an air pocket for his face—a small one exists already. I free his shoulders, but a layer of ice has formed around him.

How the hell am I supposed to perform CPR when he’s encased in snow and ice? I smack his face. “Shane!”

His eyes blink away the snow. “You must like your men bound, so you can slap them around.”

“Oh God, Shane.” I kiss his face all over. “I thought you were dead.”

“I have a pick to cut away the ice in my backpack, but it’s attached to my back.”

I grab a tree branch and hack away at the snow and ice until both of his arms are free and my gloved hands are numb. I didn’t buy waterproof gloves, but now I wish I had.

“Cyn, I have more gloves in my backpack too.”

“I’ll get you out. I promise.” Though I don’t know how.

“I know you will.” His free ice-cold hand cups my face. “Keep the rifle close.”

I drop the pack and rifle onto the ground. With the wind whipping around us, I take off my skullcap and put it on Shane’s head then pull up my hood. I dig through the top of his pack, fish through it, and pull out gloves and the compact pickax.

My breath ices in the air. It’s so cold—poor Shane. After I passed out, he had saved me yet again. If we ever thaw out, he deserves an extra special treat tonight.

After rubbing his exposed hand between mine, I press his fingers to my cheek then slip them into my mouth to warm them.

He’s grinning, his cheeks reddened by the cold. “If you keep sucking on them, I’ll ejaculate and freeze my balls off, Princess.”

Smirking, I slip a glove onto his hand. “We wouldn’t want that.”

To my right, dark shapes shift between the trees. I chamber a round into the rifle. I’ve never shot a big gun like this—only handguns, so my nerves bunch my shoulders into hard balls.

From out of the spray of snow, a grey wolf lunges for Shane’s head. I take aim, but what if I hit him?

Chapter Twenty-two

Shane

While the powerful jaws snap at my face, I hold the wolf by its jowls, mere inches from my nose. Even with the bitter cold, sweat beads on my forehead, stinging my eyes. My heart pounds in my chest while the wolf’s paws scratch my ungloved hands and its sharp teeth gleam in the fading sun. “Shoot it, Cyn. Now.”

Her hands shake while holding the rifle. “I’m not that good a shot. I could hit you.”

The black alpha wolf paces by the trees, its mate standing behind him in the shadows. The other beta wolf growls and pounces, stalking closer to me. I can’t fend off two of them, and being stuck in this ice cube leaves me defenseless. Terror tenses my already sore muscles and wounded shoulder, further weakening me. I can’t keep this up.

“Dammit, Cyn,” I shout. “Shoot the damn thing.”

Foam and spittle fling from the beast’s powerful jaws. It comes dangerously close to my face. My nose is already pretty fucked up, but I don’t want to lose it. Using all my strength, I don’t let go but twist the animal’s neck, rolling it to the ground. The other wolf seizes the opportunity lunging for my exposed arm.

“Cyn, now’s your chance.”

Before the fallen wolf gets to its feet and the other beta wolf attacks me, Cyn fires off a round, striking the downed wolf in its chest. Blood spurts onto the fresh snow, pooling into a crimson puddle sinking into the whiteness. The alpha wolves scatter.

The wolf I was holding drops to the ground, gasping for air, probably from a punctured lung. It struggles against death claiming it. “Shoot it again, Cyn.”

The other beta wolf stops and slinks several paces back, its tail tucked between its legs before it darts for the trees. My coiled muscles slowly unwind, releasing some of the tension.

Cyn swallows and holds the rifle against her shoulder this time.

“Don’t hold the rifle that way. Hold it by your side like a shotgun.” All we need is a dislocated shoulder from the kickback.

Pressing her lips together, Cyn squeezes off a round. A tear spills down her cheek.

No time for tears now. She can cry all night while I fuck her senseless as soon as she frees me.

“Snap out of it, Cyn. Get me the hell out of here.” Damn she looks hot, the snow matting her wild hair, her sensual, kissable lips, those dark eyes aflame and lighting a fire under my ass. It’s the only thing keeping me warm.

The shock of the cold has taken hold of my senses, reminding me of where the hell I am. I hate that I’m frozen, half-buried, and my balls are freezing as well as the rest of my body.

She rushes over and picks at the ice. “Chill out, O’Flannery.”

“If I were any colder, I’d be dead,” I say, my teeth chattering, just like the times Red locked me outside in subzero temperatures in my underwear for mouthing off at him.

Once she removes some of the ice encasing me, I wiggle myself out and fall onto the snow. My pants and thermals are soaked through, the cold nicking my skin with its knives.

Cyn curls around my body, the heat of her pumping into me. I kiss her with lips purpled by the numbing cold. “We have to get off this mountain, Princess.”

Worry pinches her pretty face. “Can you stand?”

“Trust me. When you shake that ass, I’ll follow.”

“How can you joke at a time like this? We’ve almost died several times today.”

I nuzzle my nose into her cold face. “Cause my mind’s in the gutter, and the only way to get it out is for you to satisfy my hunger.”

She smacks my sore arm. “Shane, don’t.”

I tap her nose, smiling and shivering. “No tears. Save them for later. You can cry on my chest while I make you scream.”

She crinkles those lips I plan on devouring tonight—after I unthaw.

With her help, we hobble down the mountain past the tall firs while thick snowflakes settle on us. Being in Austin’s heat actually sounds good right about now, though that won’t last. Alaska is my home, and I need to figure out how to bring Cyn here permanently. After all she went through, it’s going to be a helluva sales pitch, though sex seems to be my bargaining chip.

Cyn is near exhaustion, temporarily relieved from the catnap she took, but now, we’re both cold and I’m soaked to the bone. I imagine those long legs wrapped around my neck, and the scent of sex drenching us. She and I in the cabin fucking hard and rough drive me down this damn mountain.

God, this woman dug me out of the snow, fell off a mountain, killed a wolf, and has given me a hard-on that hurts like hell.

The cabins are only a little over a mile away from the base of the mountain. Shivering, I tug Cyn against me. She’s providing my only warmth, and I couldn’t be happier that she is here with me. My pants are now frozen, numbing my legs and making it difficult to walk. I can’t wait to get to the cabins and light a fire.

As we plod toward the cabins, my eyes catch a dark shape lumbering across the snow about a hundred feet away. It’s a grizzly, probably mine returning to its den for hibernation. This may be my last shot to kill the bear.

Chapter Twenty-three

Cyn

It’s been dark for a couple hours now. The northern lights splash color across the sky in brilliant hues. They’re beautiful and steal my breath away. I can enjoy them, even though the cold has sank its teeth into me.

Shane is much worse. His lips are purple and his body shivers uncontrollably.

“How far away are Loki and Red?” Maybe we shouldn’t even stop but head straight to town.

“Almost a day. They have to hike another fifteen miles to cross the river to cut back toward the mountains.”

Concern crinkles my brow. “So we can rest and warm up here?”

Even though he must be miserably cold, he waggles his brows. “We can spend the night.”

I don’t know if I agree with that, but from the way Shane is dragging his feet, he can’t move any further.

The sign on the cabin door that Shane unlocks has little hearts and says, ‘Reserved for O’Flannery and future wife.’

I grimace, my heart puddling into my soaked socks. Like she did to my wedding, Nikita is ruining my honeymoon that Shane has saved by providing significant consolation. Why do I even feel this way? He and I will be done with each other after tomorrow. I can’t live here.

Shane told me if he could start the snowmobile, we’d drive it to Tonakwa. This is my last night with him, and I have to share it with the memory of his ex-fiancée.

Beside me, Shane shakes, and I know that I have to warm him up. His mastery in bed has left me not thinking straight, but the sex has to wait. I have to care for him, like he’s done for me. He drops his backpack on the wood floor and collapses onto a bearskin rug.

Inside the public use cabin, my fingers run along the rough lip of an old-fashioned galvanized bathtub with a propane heater. Buckets of water stand near it. This was for her. Envy peels off the scabs of the fresh wounds, the terror, the pain, and the fear acquired during the day. Images of McKenna being torn apart flash in my mind, springing tears to my eyes. I don’t even know how to process them.

In contrast to the horrific day, a bottle of champagne sits in a cooler of half-melted ice. The room also contains a propane stove and mini-fridge—no bathroom though. Running water out here probably would burst pipes.

Sheers form a canopy over the bed, and dried rose petals litter the mattress that is made with fresh sheets and a handmade quilt. I have died and gone to heaven—a bed—a real bed. It beckons my body to lie on it, and I almost give in until my gaze falls on Shane, his eyes squeezed shut still battling the cold.

Looking at this oversized man, rugged, strong, and capable, I wonder why I’ve been so stupid. Shane’s not perfect, but his imperfections make him the ideal man.

“You did this for Nikita?” I ask, impressed but trying to hide it. It’s incredibly romantic, and all this is for her, not me. Regret of not chasing him my first year of college writhes inside me.

“My friends did it.”

His rich, husky voice burrows into my skin, rekindling the flame that flickers in my heart for him.

“You have good friends. Aren’t we like a week early though?”

Another shiver rumbles through his shoulders, so my arms instinctively wrap around his wide body while my chest presses against his back.

He kisses my arm, provoking a shock of sizzling awareness of the way he smells of earth and pine, of his strength flexing underneath his touch, and the roughness of his lips abraded by the harsh elements.

Shane teethes the hairs on my arms, tugging on a few. It’s erotic and elicits jolts of current into my center. “Yeah, but this isn’t far from town, so they probably check on it every few days.”

I steer Shane in front of the fireplace because his normally hot skin feels cool to the touch. He’s still shivering, and I don’t even know what to do other than warm him up. I light the pilot and flip the switch—my kind of fire. The flames pop up and dance across the fake logs.

As he unlaces his boots, I say, “Let me help you undress.”

A wicked grin slashes his weather-beaten lips. “I look forward to that.”

With Shane sitting on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, I tug off his boots, falling backward in the process.

“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching for me.

My whole body is one aching muscle, but I nod anyway.

While staring at Shane, sadness unravels me. This was for her, not me.

He gives me a weak grin. “I like being babied sometimes.”

I shoulder bump him. “This won’t happen often.” It’s nearly impossible to pry off his frozen pants, both pairs. I yank and tug, sticking my socked foot against the hearth for leverage.

He wiggles his butt to allow the pants to come down. “I can help.”

“And let me miss out on all this fun.”

His large, calloused hand palms my knee. “I’m not that bad off. You can quit worrying.” A grin stretches the scar on his chin. “When I was eight, my friends and I went ice fishing. We caught nothing, so we were determined to stay out there until we did. Our fuel ran out and we nearly froze to death.”

I kiss those slightly blue lips. They scrape against mine while scorching them. “Very stubborn.”

“Yes. My dad came and got us, put us near the fire until we warmed up. That’s the coldest I’ve ever been.”

I look at him—really look at him. I don’t know why I’ve never really seen him. I pull the quilt from the bed, a shower of rose petals littering the floor, and drape it across his shoulders.

In his underwear, he sits as close to the fire as humanly possible. “Seriously,” he says. “Thank you.” He has one of the most magnificent bodies known to man. Legs—this man has legs, wide shoulders, every portion of his body is ripped with lean, rock-hard muscles.