CHAPTER ONE

He stared at the almost naked woman frozen on the ledge of the mountain. She was breathtaking, especially to him. The women in the far northern regions of Alaska were bundled up so much that he couldn’t tell they were women. This woman had shed most of her clothes.

Her face, turned in profile, was white from the cold and her light eyelashes reminded him of dried cotton grass in the late summer. Her long neck revealed no pulse and her golden hair, spread out on one side, appeared as if it had been frozen while blowing in the wind.

He needed to move her, but he couldn’t help staring. Her breasts were covered by a thin white top that left her toned arms bare. Her waist was narrow, but her hips flared out in the shape that was the epitome of woman. She had long, tight pink leggings that disappeared beneath her socks, but her boots were thrown amongst her scattered outer clothes.

She looked like a fallen angel. If she was alive, they would make a good match because his past made him closer to Satan than any other angel in man’s lexicon of religions.

He looked back along the route he’d come. His tracks were obvious and unless a heavy snowstorm came in, they would remain so. Images of being attacked in Geneva sped across his mind. If anyone found her dead body here, he would be accused of murdering her.

With no choice, he crouched down, his heart heavy that such a beautiful woman in the prime of her life was gone. At least with hypothermia, her mind would have slept before she felt the final breaths of life leave her. Unlike his mate, who was gone before she could take her first breath. The age-old rage that used to fill him barely caused more than a stutter of his heart now.

Unable to resist, he stroked his bare finger over her cheek. At its softness, he drew back as if stung. Her cheek should be hard.

Hesitantly, he set his finger beneath her nose. Was that breath? He couldn’t be sure. If it was, it was so shallow that she would die soon. Taking her delicate wrist in his hand, he felt for the pulse he couldn’t see in her neck.

Nothing. Disappointment and sorrow rifled through him. Was he so enamored of her looks that he wished her alive? Doubting his own senses, he lay two fingers along the side of her neck. At first, he couldn’t concentrate, her skin so soft it distracted him.

Finally, he forced his mind to cooperate. Thump————thump————. Elation swept through him almost toppling him over. He had only felt so once before. Now, on the heels of his euphoria came panic.

He had to save her. His mind raced as memories sped by of a search party he’d participated in years ago, shortly after he’d settled on his mountain. He had found the young male and thought him dead as well, but a rescue crew had taken over. He’d asked numerous questions, fascinated by the human body and how his own was different.

Taking off his coat of bearskin fur that he donned when traveling anywhere he might be seen, he laid it on the ground next to her. Carefully, he moved her light form onto it and wrapped her tight. It was critical in this late stage that she not wake and try to move on her own or it could kill her.

Lifting her in his arms, he was thankful for the extra strong limbs he’d been given and carefully strode down the mountain to his home. It was a simple one room cabin set against the mountain, hiding the cave he’d originally lived in when first arriving in the region.

Having moved about the arctic for almost three hundred years, he was always careful to keep his presence a secret until he could determine where the closest inhabitant was and who or what they were.

After entering his home, he laid the angel on her back on his handmade bed. Wrapped in his grizzly bear coat, she looked small. He thought back to the young man that he’d found. The rescuers had used warm rubber containers at the man’s neck, on his hands, under his arms, and between his legs.

Quickly, he grabbed the smooth rock that he used to hold the door open when carrying supplies inside and set it in the coals of the wood stove. Striding outside, he grabbed up five smaller ones from his porch that he used for chasing away wolves and added them to the fire.

The marten skins he had drying wouldn’t be large enough to wrap around the rocks, so he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, and ripped it. The material was flannel and its texture was perfect for her soft skin.

Retrieving the rocks from the fire with his bare hands, he wrapped them in the material and carefully positioned them against her in the important areas. He placed the largest rock between her thighs then wrapped the coat around her again. He took the quilt hanging on his wall and laid that over her as well before standing back.

What if he was too late? What if she’d been there too long? What if she was already dead, slipping away while he prepared the rocks?

Then you’d be no worse off than you were before.

But that wasn’t true. Before he didn’t know of her. Now, her path had crossed with his. Only twice before had he gazed upon such femininity with awe. The first time was while still in Germany when he’d watched Felix and Agatha, the people he learned to speak from while living in a shed attached to their house. They never knew he was there until the day he tried to befriend their blind father.

He fisted his hands and tore his gaze from the face of his angel. The ensuing attack upon his person when he was found inside with their father was only the second betrayal of his miserable existence. It was less the stick Felix raised than the fact Felix raised anything against him that hurt, though it was less painful than his first betrayal, but a true harbinger of the exile to come.

Turning back to the woman, he focused on the memories of what else the rescuers had done. He glanced at the wood stove. It might be too cool in his cabin. Immediately, he walked to the wood pile set against the wall and added two more split logs. They caught as they landed on the red coals, filling the stove with yellow flames.

He returned to his bed and knelt down. Once again, he positioned his index finger beneath her nose. His stomach loosened as a faint breath stirred the tiny hairs below his knuckle. She lived.

To help the body warm from the inside out, we use warm sugar water until we can get the victim to a hospital. The words of the rescuers ran through his head, his memory sharp, and in this case, he was grateful for that.

He rose and moved to his long counter to pour fresh water into a small pot. He didn’t have sugar but he had birch syrup he’d boiled down himself. Pouring a liberal amount of his late season harvest into the water, he set it on the wood stove to warm.

If he hadn’t seen the sun reflecting off something near her, he would have never spotted her. She must have been lost, which meant someone would be looking for her. He’d had no choice but to leave her clothes where they lay. He would need to go back and retrieve them for her.

Though he understood he couldn’t keep her, nor that she would want to stay, he wanted to be sure she lived long enough to make that decision. If she died while under his care, he would be hunted down…again.

Pulling the pot from the stove, he poured a small amount of the sweet water into a tin cup. Dipping his finger in, he guessed at its warmth before picking up his spoon from the counter and moving toward the bed. Kneeling on one knee once more, he dipped the spoon into the sweet water and lifted it to her mouth.

Carefully, he dripped a little on her chapped lips, but it rolled to the side and down her jaw. Emptying the spooned water into the cup again, he used it to part her lips, but they closed again.

He hesitated to touch her face. The action seemed too intimate. Moving her body to warm her was like any other body, but her face, so smooth and unblemished, was what made her different just as her brain and heart made her who she was. Who was she?

Angela Ellis luxuriated in the warmth, a hot tub one of her favorite guilty pleasures. Letting her head fall back, she looked up but there was only fog. Where was she? Moving her gaze toward the ground, she couldn’t see it. She closed her eyes again. She must be in heaven.

She chuckled. With a job that took her around the world, it wasn’t a surprise she couldn’t remember where she was for a moment, and really, how much did it matter? She was warm and happy and alone. Life couldn’t get any better than this…except on her next adventure vacation.

She lifted her head as excitement thrummed through her. That was coming up soon. A month-long cruise along what she referred to as the people-less frontier. She loved the idea that there were billions of people on Earth, yet there were still places devoid of human life—except for visitors like herself.

She moved her arms through the bubbling water. Or was she already on her vacation? She tried to think. Images of a dark bar with round outside windows flowed through her mind. More followed, standing in formation in a life jacket for a muster drill, eating fresh caught salmon, staying up to see the lights of the Aurora Borealis. She let her head fall back again. She must be in the hot tub on the outer deck, the ecological ship’s only nod toward the cruise industry. They must be traveling through fog.

No wonder she was a little disoriented. She wouldn’t even be able to tell which way was up if not for the hot water. The fog didn’t seem to move. Why was everything so fuzzy? Did she drink too much last night?

He steeled himself and gently forced his angel’s lower jaw down, effectively opening her mouth and dribbling a little of water into it before releasing her. He watched, but she didn’t swallow. Not wanting her to choke, he turned her head toward the wall and lowered her chin so the water could leak out.

She was in too deep a sleep. What if she never woke? The thought sent a chill through him far greater than simple cold temperatures. There had to be something else he could do.

A conversation he’d overheard at the outpost came to mind. A woman had been joking with her husband about sharing body heat with his hunting partner. The man had fallen through the ice and needed to get warm.

He could do that for his angel. Standing, he quickly removed all his clothes. Since his sensitivity to temperatures had lessened over the centuries, he had no idea if his body would give off heat, but he had to try.

He folded the quilt down, and careful not to dislodge the heated rocks, moved her toward the middle of the bed. He opened the coat and lay next to her, quickly pulling the quilt over them. Gently, he lifted her head onto his arm and wrapped his other across her stomach.

Her body felt cold even to him. Would she ever warm? Moving his leg against her to make contact all along the side of her body, he carefully covered her legs with his other one, bending it at the knee to avoid putting any weight on her.

She smelled like the Arctic air and a faint hint of mint, her hair beneath his nose already softening. Her curvy body yielded to his hard one. He let his warm breath pass by her nose, hoping she’d bring that heat into her lungs.

As he lay with her, a new sense of how fragile she was penetrated his brain. She wasn’t like most of the women he came into contact with. Though she was a nice size, her face was not weathered by the harsh elements of Alaska and her skin was far too pale to have been hit by the northern sun for years.

She was even more beautiful than he’d originally thought. She was precious, like an angel. Fate had brought her to him. With her, saving her, he might finally find peace. Despite his newfound hope, or maybe because of it, his body came alive with the sensations of touching her.

Though she retained a layer of clothing, he’d shed all of his. His cock, nestled against her hip began to grow firmer. The skin on his arm where it touched hers, prickled with pleasure. And he couldn’t resist stroking his nose over her cheek.

His body wanted to mate, but he never could. He wasn’t a man. He was something else, something reprehensible, something other than human. The only hope he had for his existence was peace. But it didn’t keep him from yearning for what could never be.

Though he was regulated to finding snippets of comfort in the mundane, with her in his arms he found a sense of happiness. Even if just for a fleeting moment in his timeline, he would treasure it.

He held her a little tighter, enjoying the feel of his hard cock pressed against her and the silkiness of her hair upon his arm. As desire built inside him, he embraced it for the oddity it was, reveled in its sensations.

The heat in the room finally began to cool as the wood he’d added burned down. Despite the unmet ache in his loins, he was loathe to move from her side. Not only did he enjoy having her in his arms, but he didn’t want to undo what he may have accomplished by sharing his body heat.

He remained where he was, ignoring the movement of the sun that now hid behind an adjacent mountain, covering the cabin in a half-shadow. Instead, he watched his angel breathe, confirming she still lived.

Then her lips parted, and she took a deeper breath.

He froze, afraid she would wake immediately. When her eyelids didn’t open, he carefully extracted himself from around her. Wrapping the fur coat about her, his concern increased that she might look upon him and be horrified. With his heart racing in near panic, he quickly replaced the quilt and grabbed up his clothes.

He dressed in his jeans and boots faster than a wolf snatching up its prey. With his flannel shirt now in shreds around the rocks keeping the woman warm, he needed to cover his torso before she woke. He didn’t want her to fear him.

Moving to the chest at the end of his bed, he pulled out another shirt. It was wool, which would be far too hot once he added more wood to the stove. Digging beneath it, he grasped a white linen shirt he hadn’t worn in decades. Donning it, he buttoned it high enough to hide the horizontal scar across his chest, yet it still remained open at the collar.

Stepping before the triangular piece of mirror he’d found in the Savik dump, he checked to be sure the leather choker with Inuit symbols on it still covered his harshest scar. The one on his forehead was concealed by his hair, but the one under his right eye was visible. He once tried an eye-patch for that, but with his height, it seemed to cause more fear.

Confirming the leather around his neck was still in place, he strode to the wood stove and added two more logs, watching as they were engulfed in flames. He returned the pot to the stove top and waited for it to steam before pouring it into his tin cup again and walking back to his bed, back to Angel. That’s what he would call her. Men and women liked names, and in the Arctic wilderness, they took on names that meant something.

Once again, he sat next to her and carefully opened her lips. Spooning in a small amount of the sweet water, he waited, anxious to see some sign of life in her. Excitement hit him as her throat worked to swallow the warm liquid. Since she didn’t wake or choke, he repeated the procedure, this time letting more from the spoon drip onto her tongue.

She groaned, and he pulled his hands away, but she didn’t wake.

He quickly gave Angel more sugar water. This time her tongue darted out and licked at her lips. His gut tightened with yearning. The need for companionship spiked hard through his chest. He had little time to recover before her lashes fluttered. He held his breath, anxious to see the color of her eyes.

“Oh.” Her lids, which didn’t appear to open, squinched together. She tried to lift her hand, but it was caught beneath the blankets and fur coat.

“Don’t.” He whispered the word because his normal voice was very deep and scratchy. He didn’t want to alarm her, but he couldn’t allow her to move. “Don’t try to move yet. You could stop your heart.”

Her sudden intake of breath was the only sign that she’d heard him. That, and she ceased her struggles, much to his relief.

“Am I in a hospital?” Her voice, though soft, flowed over him, loosening his tense muscles.

“No. You’re in my cabin. I discovered you on the mountain.”

Her eyelashes fluttered again followed by a moan of pain before she closed them tight. “My eyes. Burn.”

She must have become blinded by the snow. She’d had no eye protection. He should have realized that. “Don’t try to open them. You’re snow-blind.”

Her head turned toward his voice. “Blind?” The one word was choked out.

The fear in her voice caused sympathy to rise in his chest. “It’s not permanent, but it could last a couple of days. If you’ll allow it, I can bandage your eyes so they can heal.”

Her tongue darted out to lick her chapped lips again. “Please.”

At her request, he rose. Striding toward the corner of the room that held the wood stove and cabinets, as well as a sink with cold running water, his mind quickly inventoried what he might use. He didn’t wish to use the tape he had as her skin was already sore from the cold. He could wrap her eyes with a scarf, but he needed something hard beneath it to protect her eyes from light.

Jar lids could work if large enough. Quickly, he chose two from the cabinet and went back to his chest for the scarf. As he approached the bed, he purposefully shuffled his feet so she wouldn’t be startled by his voice. Laying everything next to her, he pulled his only chair from the table at the center of the cabin and set it next to the bed.

“I’m going to wrap your head and protect your eyes. Don’t lift your head or move. It’s very important you remain still. Your muscles don’t have the proper blood flow yet, and the strain could cause your heart to fail.”

Her brows lowered. “Are you a doctor?”

“No, but I have lived in the coldest regions of the Earth for most of my life. I understand what has happened to you.” He sat on the chair and lifted the jar lids.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips again. “I guess that’s the next best thing.”

He didn’t respond, too focused on soothing her. Her eyes would simply take time to heal. As gently as he could, he laid a lid over each eye socket, resting the edges on her eyebrows and cheek bones. Slowly, he lifted her head with one hand while he maneuvered the scarf beneath it. The silky strands of her golden hair made it hard to concentrate.

Finally, he had the scarf where he wanted it and he tied it around her head to keep the lids in place. “Now if you open your eyes, it shouldn’t hurt, but I would suggest keeping them closed for at least a couple of days.”

“Thank you.” Her soft voice came out in a throaty whisper.

“You’re welcome.” He stared at her. How long before her body warmed enough to cause her excruciating pain? He had nothing he could give her to take it away, but sleep might help. Rising, he headed back to his counter.

“Where are you going?” Her panic in her voice stopped him cold.

“I’m just across the room. I’ll make you warm tea to help your body heal though it may not be the most pleasant.”

“Tea? I think a shot of whiskey would be more beneficial.”

He quickly pulled out his small herb box. Mixing valerian with hops, he poured it into the pot of birch syrup water still simmering on the wood stove. Then he retrieved the cup and emptied the cooled water into the sink. “Alcohol will hurt you in your condition.”

“It sounds like you know a lot—” she coughed.

He was beside her in an instant. “Don’t.” Laying his finger against her throat, he stroked it, ignoring the pleasant feel of her skin. “Coughing will hurt your heart.”

She swallowed against his finger. “Got it.” Her tongue came out again to lick her lips.

He tore his gaze away and pushed back the chair, uncomfortable with the desire pushing through him. He stepped to the stove and poured the liquid into his cup, small pieces of crushed herb floated within it.

As he returned to the chair, her lips lifted in a small smile. “I guess I’m lucky you found me. Do you have a name?”

“I have the tea, but don’t lift your head. Allow me to do it for you.” He tested the liquid with his finger. With his sensitivity to temperatures less than hers, he hoped he had it right.

“Okay, but when will I be able to move again?”

He lifted her head with his hand. “Tomorrow. Until then, you should try to sleep.” He pressed the lip of the cup to her lips, and she didn’t flinch, which was a good sign. Very slowly he tilted it. He pulled it back to allow her to swallow.

“That tastes weird. Is that herbal tea?”

He nodded before remembering she couldn’t see him. “Yes. It will help you sleep so you can heal, but you need to finish it all.”

She lifted her lip at that pronouncement, but as he tipped the cup again, she drank. When she’d finished it, he set it aside.

“Okay, I was a good girl and took all my medicine. Now can you tell me your name?”

He walked away and rinsed out the cup. Over his shoulder, he answered. “You need to sleep now.

“I’ll sleep if you tell me your name.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t have one.”

Angela opened her mouth to argue, but she heard a door open and close. “Are you here?” Fear at being left alone and unable to move sliced through her. What if she could move and he had lied to her? What if he made it all up to keep her with him? What if he was a madman?

Then again, what if everything he said was true and she killed herself out of panic? According to him, she only had to wait a day. That wasn’t too long. But if he told her she shouldn’t move again tomorrow, then she’d ignore him and run like a crazy woman.

She took a deeper breath, but the urge to cough afterwards was strong, so she swallowed hard against the itch before taking rapid shallow breaths. Her body felt like lead and her thoughts grew hazy. What was it she wanted to know from him again?

The warm waters flowed by her. Now THIS was a hot spring. She could just make out the mineral deposits on the rock next to her. Her stay in Tuscany at the Terme Di Saturina spa was turning out to be perfect. All she needed was a dinner companion, preferably a handsome Italian, who wouldn’t mind some company on a short-term basis. She definitely had the best job.

She stretched her legs out in front of her as she held on to the rock ledge behind her, the water pulling her forward, relaxing her body. It must be early morning because the fog obscured the multi-level pools. The smell of the hot springs was muted, perhaps due to the fog. It were as if she floated on a cloud.

Michael didn’t know what he was missing. She’d invited her brother to come with her on this trip, but once again, he’d refused. If anyone needed a vacation, it was him. He just didn’t get that there was more to life than his job. He’d only left Oakland three times since he’d taken the position as comptroller at Manderson Exports Inc. and all three times it was because she’d practically bribed him to come with her. He was far too ambitious, pushing off life until he had time.

She mentally patted herself on the back. She’d managed to land a job that allowed her to work and have amazing experiences at the same time, plus it had great benefits and literally months of vacation time. Her next vacation was all planned. A cruise around Alaska and then a trek across the arctic. Mikey may think she was an adventurer, but she never vacationed without a guide. She couldn’t wait to be pulled across the snow by a team of sled dogs or to see her first polar bear from the safety of a snow caterpillar.

Bringing her legs beneath her, she pulled her arms off the ledge and let her hands fall into the water. Ow! Her right one started to burn. How could the water be too hot around her hand but fine around her bo— Ow. She lifted both hands above the water, but they continued to burn. She stood, but too late, her feet felt like they were on fire.

“Wake up. You shouldn’t move.”

The voice floated to her from somewhere else. It was low and scratchy and recognizable for some reason.

“Wake up, don’t move.”

She opened her eyes but all was black. “Oh God, I’m blind.” Tears formed, making her eyes sting. She swallowed against them.

“You aren’t blind. I covered your eyes so they could heal from their sunburn. In a couple of days, you’ll be able to see again.” The man held her left wrist as he smoothed something over her hand.

Her memory returned. “That hurts.”

His voice lowered. “I know. You have frostbite. Your hands are the worst, but your feet didn’t completely escape damage.”

She took shallow, rapid breaths against the pain, not wanting to cough again as her memory returned. “How long did I sleep?”

He set her hand down and covered it with a blanket of some sort.

Shoot, she wished she could see. “It must be bad because I feel like my hands and feet are burning.”

He laid his large hand on her arm, more to soothe than restrain. “Half a day.”

Despite her efforts to be brave, her eyes teared up, causing more pain. “It hurts so much.” She could feel wetness against her cheek. If only she was at a hospital, and they could give her morphine or something. “Do you have any pain killers? I’d even take aspirin at this point.”

“I don’t have anything to take the pain away. Would you like more tea to help you sleep through it?”

She could feel the empathy in his voice. It was as if he hurt for her. Who was this man? And where was she? Maybe when she felt better she could tackle those questions. Right now, she just wanted relief from the pain. “P-please.” She couldn’t stop the choke in her words.

She heard him move away and tried to concentrate on the sounds he made instead of the pain she was in.

As if he guessed her thoughts, he spoke from across the room. “Think about icebergs and snow and a polar dive into the waters of the Arctic Ocean.”

She forced herself to bring to mind her last cold trip. She’d taken a helicopter ride to a two thousand-foot mountain, Revaltoppe, in Greenland National Park. There had been only three of them, a fellow employee, herself, and the guide. She’d thought she’d dressed warm enough, but when they jumped down to the frozen ground and ran away from the beat of the helicopter blades, she’d felt no relief from the wind. Her face was frozen in seconds.

“Here.” Her savior lifted her head and brought the cup to her lips.

The liquid wasn’t hot, but warm, enabling her to drink it quickly. At his kindness for her, a complete stranger, she began to tear up again.

He let her head rest on the pillow before he laid his hand over her forehead. Did she have a fever? Would she die out here, wherever here was? She tried to remember why she had frostbite, but the burning in her extremities made it hard to concentrate. Or was it the tea?

How could she ever repay him? She had a nice nest egg saved up for when she retired and if it wasn’t for him, she would never even make it to fifty-eight. Was Mikey at her apartment in San Francisco? Was he looking for…