Dylan
I can’t fucking believe I have her here. After all these years, she’s with me.
And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.
I stare out the window while I wait for the tea to steep, lost in my thoughts. When it’s ready, I take a sip of it to make sure it’s not too bitter for Emma.
I grow the leaves myself—a trade I’m proud of—another form of living out here in the wilderness. Living off the land. Something I never thought I’d be doing, but something that I seem to have a knack for anyway.
It’s a hit—I’ve nailed it yet again. This is probably one of the best batches I’ve harvested, and I know that Emma will love it. I want to watch her savor every drop.
In the next instant, I nearly choke on the tea as it slides down my throat. Way too fucking hot. I gasp and lean forward on the counter, spewing the liquid into the sink and coughing.
Emma’s muffled scream startles me, scaring the living shit out of me. I whirl around, cursing myself for being so damn skittish.
I slam the tea cup down on the counter in the kitchen and rush to Emma’s aid. What if she’s hurt? Why is she screaming?
I checked her body when we first landed back at the cabin, but there were no major visible injuries. Perhaps she’s stumbled in the dark? The cabin gets pretty dim at night, making it hard to navigate for those who aren’t used to it.
Rushing into the room, alarm bells in my head are going off, just like the fire alarm at Emma’s apartment.
From where I’m standing I can’t see any obvious signs of distress. I stare at her for a moment in the darkness. She’s so fucking hot, just the way I remember her—maybe even hotter. The sex appeal oozes off her.
Should I take her to the hospital or will she be alright with me here? It’s a hard call to make—but I can’t let my face be seen in the outside world. I just can’t.
Decision made, end of story, the end.
It’s not my looks I’m concerned about, no. It’s much deeper than that. But heck, no point dwelling on it now.
Slowly, I approach her.
Emma cowers as I approach, curling up in the corner of the couch and clutching my bearskin to her chest. Her first instinctual move is to cower, hunkering down on the couch in fear. I see her body trembling under the bear skin I provided her for comfort and warmth when we first got back to the cabin.
“Emma…” I whisper and stop. Why is she shaking so bad? There’s no fucking way she can be cold.
Is it me?
Absentmindedly, my right hand strokes my beard. It’s long and a little unkempt, but hell, surely she’s not frightened of me? I mean, she knows me.
“Emma?” I try again and wait.
“Who…” Emma swallows hard and whispers meekly through the shadows. I can hear her shallow breathing. “Who…are you?”
At her words, my insides tighten, as if squeezed by some powerful vice. Did she really just ask me who I am?
Surely I misheard?
“Emma, are you okay?” I try again to reach her. Maybe she’s suffering from shock.
I crouch down on the floor to draw nearer to her, at eye level so as not to appear threatening.
“What do you want from me?” Emma recoils and protectively draws her knees up to her chest. “How do you…know my name?”
She sounds pitiful and weary. Instantly, I regret my decision of bringing her here. I reacted rashly and should have thought it through a bit better.
“I…you…I mean,” I stutter but can’t form a proper sentence. Fuck. The bare skin of her shoulder’s fucking driving me mad.
Tea, my mind’s screaming at me. Get her the fucking cup of tea you made.
“I’ve got some tea,” I mutter and stride out of the room.
Emma’s eyes follow me as she sizes me up. Then she shakes her head with genuine confusion. She has no clue who I am.
The mirror I pass in the hallway has me stopping in my tracks. Okay. So maybe it doesn’t quite look like me, like the fucking Dylan she last saw.
My beard is bushy, my eyes are shadowy, and my features are mainly hidden behind mounds of unruly hair not just on my head and face, but also all over my body.
When I return with her cup of tea, she shakes her head, pushing the mug away.
“Where am I? Who are you? Why did you bring me here?” Questions shoot out of her mouth at machine gun intensity.
And I don’t know how to answer any of them.
Emma stares, and when I offer the tea again, I try to reassure her. “It’s perfectly safe to drink. It’ll make your throat feel a bit better.”
She narrows her eyes, but she takes the steaming mug with a shaking hand.
“What do you mean on fire? Where am I? Who are you?” There she goes with all the questions again.
“Your apartment was on fire,” I start, trying really fucking hard not to stare at the spot above her breasts where the bearskin is about to fall down and expose her. “You were all alone and had no way out. I rescued you.”
I wince at my choice of words. Maybe I shouldn’t be so blunt.
Emma’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.
“I don’t—” she starts, then stops. Now she does try some of the tea. Briefly, she closes her eyes.
“Fire…my apartment…but why…” she mumbles.
It seems as if she’s forgotten I’m in the room because she’s let go of the rug shielding her naked body from my prying eyes.
“Mmm.” I try clearing my throat to get her attention, but it’s not working.
Her eyes are staring off into the distance. I wonder what the hell she’s thinking about now. Is she able to remember the fire and the rescue, or is she able to recognize me and—my own fucking thoughts trail off now.
The situation is stressing me out, and the whirlwind of the night is catching up to me emotionally. If I’m not careful, I’ll need a whole lot of therapy I can’t access up here in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Now Emma stares at the tea for a second and then shifts her gaze back to me.
The longer I stare at her naked upper-body glory, the harder this becomes. I need to get some clothes on this girl.
“I’ll be back,” I growl and leave the room.
When I return, I’ve got a spare flannel shirt. I toss it at her.
Recognition dawns. Her free hand frantically grabs the shirt and holds it protectively in front of her.
“Could you stop perving?” she hisses at me, and I turn away.
Fucking shit.
I’m a fucking man after all. I mean who wouldn’t look when the opportunity presents itself?
“As I was saying. I saved you from your burning apartment and, well, you won’t be able to return for a while.”
“Where am I? Who are you?” Emma repeats, covered now from head to foot in clothing way too fucking huge for her.
Unfortunately, it makes her look even hotter. It takes every ounce of self-control I’ve got in my muscles of steel not to jump her bones.
My lonely cock’s about to take over and send my brain on vacation. One thing is for sure—if I stay, the consequences will be ugly.
“You’re safe,” I grumble and stand up again. “Nothing will happen to you up here.”
Without another word, I leave the room. I can’t stay any fucking longer.
Already, my self-control has been stretched to its limit. I feel like a million isotopes are pulsing through me, ready to set the entire fucking cabin on fire.
“Hey, wait. You can’t just leave me here without answers,” Emma yells after me.
Briefly, I hover on the threshold of the door.
No. No fucking way. Don’t go back.
“Come back here, Grizzly, or whatever your name is. I deserve some answers.”
Silence. I’m leaning against the wall in my hallway. My heart’s racing in my fucking chest.
“Can you hear me? You can’t do this to me.” Her yelling is a little softer, and my heart is being ripped in two.
I’m torn between maintaining my distance and running back in and telling her everything.
Without another word, I rush out into the snow. A fucking ice bath should take care of quenching any urges I’m feeling right now.