CHAPTER EIGHT

As the cold air hit his bare torso, he breathed deeply, his muscles finally loosening. He’d contemplated refusing Angel’s request and changing her bandages anyway, but she would cry from the pain. He couldn’t bear to be the one to cause her tears.

He strode down the steps, headed for the wood pile. He hadn’t dared to look at her face, knowing she’d be shocked and upset by his scars. When she sounded as if she admired his body, he couldn’t help glancing at her quickly, only to find her smile growing and her pupils dilating, taking over more of her green eyes.

That look had sent sexual need speeding strait to his groin so hard that he’d barely kept a groan from escaping. Now he was the one in shock. Never had a woman looked at him with such appreciation.

Never.

A tiny flame of hope sputtered to life deep in his chest. He tried to ignore it, but it refused to be snuffed. Was there a chance she would stay with him after she healed?

He let his imagination run. Images of them eating together, sleeping together, and working side by side to make her as comfortable as possible populated his head. Visuals from books he’d read on human mating swirled around in his mind, causing his cock to grow hard with need.

He stopped to pull it out of his pants, a release almost imminent. He wouldn’t scare her with his desire. If all that he read was correct, she must find fulfillment first. Her pleasure would be his.

He stroked himself as he looked downward from his mountain ledge. The cold barely registered against his skin, but where it did, it added excitement to his already growing pleasure. He tried to picture what Angel would look like beneath him, but the image wouldn’t come, his experience seeing an actual naked woman sorely lacking.

Instead, he closed his eyes and let memories of others having sex fill his mind. Sounds of couples moaning, women yelling and men panting as they reached the ultimate nirvana in each other’s arms sent his heartbeat racing.

His body tensed, his balls tightened and his release spurted from his cock onto the white snow. He focused on his pleasure, pulling every last drop from his body. As he calmed, the image of his intended mate infiltrated his mind. Her body curved, her pubic hair black and her breasts pointy. Her jaw had been delicate, her hair abundant.

Then the image of her body being torn apart filled his mind. The despair of that night flooded him all over again, and despite his euphoria of seconds ago, he fell to his knees.

“No.” The word ripped from his throat was barely a whisper, the very air to make it extinguishing the small flame of hope that had lit in his heart. Akiakook had said memories returned when they were needed. The destruction of his mate was a reminder that he was alone…forever. He had no right to hope for anything else.

Cleansing his cock and hands with snow, he rose, zipping himself in even as he turned and strode back to the woodpile. Peace, that elusive state, was all he had the right to hope for, though even that was a reach.

Loading his arms with split logs, he ignored the minor scratching against the bare skin of his chest and walked back into his home.

Angel’s eyes were closed, so he kept quiet, loathe to waken her until he had everything ready. His focus had to be on making her well. That was all.

Pulling the supplies from his cabinet, he quietly set them on the end table next to the bed.

“I heard you come in. I’m not asleep. Just resting. This medicine is good stuff.”

He glanced at her face to find her eyes still closed. “You can feel it then.”

“Oh yeah. I feel like I’m floating.” She smiled but still didn’t open her eyes.

It would hurt, even with the medication, but at least it should dull the pain somewhat. Gently, he lifted her hand by the wrist and unwrapped it. As the last piece of material fell away, her wrist jerked in his grasp.

“What’s that?” Her voice was strained.

He examined the skin on her hands. Bumps covered it, some milk white, others dark. “You have frostbite blisters.” He picked up the knife he’d sterilized in the fire after he added more wood. “Some have broken. I need to remove the extra skin.”

“Oh God. Will it hurt?”

“Yes.” He hated that she would cry, but he’d promised to save her hands.

“I can’t watch.”

He didn’t look at her, but was glad she wouldn’t see what he did. It would look like he made the situation worse, though in fact it would be better. He’d first seen the same process while living in Greenland.

Steeling himself against the crying that was sure to occur, he carefully began removing the dead skin. When no sound issued from her after he’d finished half of them, he looked at her.

He was surprised to find her eyes open and quickly looked down. She’d been staring at him.

“Is it done?” Her voice was strained.

“No. I’ve only completed half.”

“Okay.”

When she didn’t say anything more, he risked a glance at her. She continued to stare at him, water in her eyes. Quickly, he went back to work, his chest tight at the pain he inflicted.

It had to be done. He’d promised. He refused to disappoint her. Focusing again on the white blisters, he finished with the burst ones, ignoring the few red ones. When he’d finished, he wrapped her hand in moss then in a clean strip of his former flannel shirt.

When he’d completed that hand, he set it down and glanced at her. Her beautiful eyes were closed and tear tracks coated her cheeks, but she hadn’t made a noise or tried to pull her hand away. “That hand is done.”

Her eyelids fluttered open. “That didn’t take too long. Have you done this before?”

He lowered his gaze. “I have.”

“I thought so. I feel so lucky that you found me.”

At the tone in her voice, he couldn’t resist looking at her. Her green eyes were bright and their moisture reflected the fading light of the day. Her gaze held gratefulness and kindness.

He turned back to his task. Gently, he picked up her other hand and went to work. When he’d finished that one, he set it down and rose to throw out the old bandages.

“I’m so lucky to have a hot man tending to my every need. Must be a perk of getting lost in Alaska.”

At her unusual statement, he looked over his shoulder to find a dazed smile curving her lips. She rolled her head back and forth then looked at him again. “Yup. The view is definitely a perk.”

He steeled himself against the interest his body had at her words. She was on pain medication and didn’t know what she said. Unfortunately, his control over his body’s response was limited.

Quickly, he resituated the chair toward the end of the bed. Her feet were far from the very end. After rearranging the supplies, he would need to change the bandages on her feet, he lifted the bottom of the quilt. “This shouldn’t hurt as much.”

“I’m sure whatever you do will be wonderful.” Her voice was soft and had taken on a sing-song quality.

Resisting the urge to look at her again, he unwrapped her feet. Relief swept through him at their condition. Just a few blisters and no red ones. Even better was the fact that no blisters had developed on the bottoms of her feet.

When he found her, her feet were facing the morning sun and since her socks had been black, what warmth there was had found its way to her feet. “You should be able to walk again soon. We can check again in a few days.” He forgot to avoid her gaze and looked at her.

Her smile was bright and her eyes had changed to a deeper green like that found on a spruce tree. Desire shot through his body so suddenly that he jerked before returning his focus to taking care of her.

“I knew I could count on you. I’m going to have to find some way to repay you. Maybe we should start with a —ow!”

He gritted his teeth to keep himself from turning his face toward her. He’d done nothing different with the blister he worked on now than the ones on her hands, but obviously the medicine had lessened her own control.

“That hurts.” She pulled on her leg.

He clamped down on her ankle. “Don’t move. I could cut you.”

“Feels like you’re already doing that.” Her voice was less irritated and more whiney, which relieved him.

Still, he didn’t delay in ministering to her feet. When he cleaned them, he wrapped each loosely in the remaining flannel. He was glad he’d requested Timber purchase him another shirt…if there were any large enough.

Once again covering Angel’s feet with the quilt, he rose and turned away without looking at her. The medicine was playing with her mind and he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

He threw out the old bandages and cloths he used and washed his hands.

“Sas?”

He stilled. She sounded sleepy. Maybe she’d fall asleep.

“Sas, please come here.”

He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the temptation she presented. Finally, he turned around and walked back to the bed. “Yes?”

“I need to whisper.”

“Then perhaps you should wait until later when you feel stronger.”

“Please.” She sounded so helpless, he acquiesced. Bending, he moved his head closer.

“You’re one of a kind.”

He froze as the words chilled him to his core. But no sooner had she whispered them, then she lifted her head and her lips touched his.

Shock held him immobile until her tongue begged for entrance into his mouth. His lips parted of their own accord, and she pressed their mouths closer as her tongue swept inside to touch his.

Need flashed through his body like lightning and he jerked away. No! Spinning, he strode to the door, threw it open and left.

Angela grinned. Wasn’t that the hottest kiss she’d ever had that wasn’t returned? She surprised the hell out of him. She loved that! And he tasted so good. Tart and sweet all at the same time. She giggled. Of course, it had to be the berries and syrup.

Closing her eyes, she continued to smile. Sas was all man from his bulging biceps to his soft beard. What would his beard feel like if he were to kiss her everywhere? Oh, she liked that idea.

She could lie here helpless as he made love to her. She could see it clearly. First, he’d strip off all her clothes, carefully because that was his way. She’d lie there stark naked as he looked at her with his intense dark eyes. She’d shiver with anticipation.

Then he’d take off his jeans, and she’d finally get to see his legs. His thigh muscles would be well-defined and hard, his calves larger than what she could grasp with two hands. His skin would be smooth and absent of the scars his torso had, making him more confident.

Then he’d take down his underwear and a very large cock would greet her. She’d lick her lips and he’d bring it to her. Her mind drifted in pleasure.

Sas stroked her lips with the tip of his cock, the smooth skin begging her to lick and suck, but as she darted her tongue out, he pulled it away.

She pouted.

He shook his head. “You’re too anxious.”

“Of course, I am. I’ve been drooling over you for weeks.”

He took her face in both his hands and tilted her head back. “But we had sex yesterday.”

Before she could answer him, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, grasping his hair in one hand.

He let go of her face and braced his arms on either side of her, never breaking their kiss as his body covered hers. He was huge, scary in his size, but he kept his weight from her even as his cock found the place between her legs that was moist and waiting for him.

She bent her knees, urging him to enter her, but he didn’t. Instead, he rubbed his cock against her, his base stroking her clit up and down, spreading her own wetness between them.

She tore her mouth away. “I want you inside me.”

He pulled back to kneel between her legs. “You are too hot.”

Too hot? There was no such thing.

He raised his hand and showed a small snowball the size of a large marble.

Her sheath flooded with anticipation. “What are you going to do with that?”

As usual, he didn’t say anything. He simply stroked the little snowball across her nipples.

The cold sent erotic spikes to her core as her nipples grew so hard it bordered on pain, but he kept circling them in turn then brushing them with the snow until it melted, leaving her breathless and wanting.

She grasped his hand and licked the water from his fingers, then sucked them each in turn. Anything to get him to push his cock inside her.

But he pulled his hand away from her and produced another small snowball. He held it for her to see once again. Spreading his own knees, he pushed her legs open wider.

The snowball lowered and pressed against her opening. Holy sugar, he was going to put it inside her. Even at her thought, the snowball pressed into her opening, sending paradoxical fire through her veins.

Another snowball appeared in his fingers and was pushed in to join the one melting inside her. The next came faster and was thrust inside just before a fourth followed. Her body felt on fire, even within her cold sheath, but he gave no respite as he moved his cock over her clit and stroked.

Her sheath tightened on the cold hardness inside and her body tensed. He replaced his cock with his fingers, playing with her clit as her sheath tightened on the hard melt until her hips came off the bed and her scream filled the air.

She floated in his arms in the warm waters of the Banjar hot springs, exhausted yet frustrated. Would he ever come with her? He had her nestled in front of him, so she couldn’t see him. He did that a lot. But how did she know that? Didn’t she just meet him on this trip?

Confused, she pulled out of his arms and turned to look at him, but he was gone. She stood to call his name, but she couldn’t remember what it was. The steam from the baths grew thicker until everything turned bright white.

She covered her eyes with her hand and shivered. Quickly, she crouched down into the warm waters and they came up to her neck, helping her relax.

He stood in the snow, his body’s heat rising from him as the below-zero air hit him. Unfortunately, it didn’t take away the shock of Angel’s kiss. His whole being centered on the remembered feel of her lips and the touch of her tongue. He wanted that and more with every fiber of his soul…if he had one.

He fisted his hands and closed his eyes, stealing himself against the hope trying to come to life. He didn’t deserve her. He was a monster, other than human.

A voice rose inside him from his youth. But you were ignorant in what was good and bad, abandoned by the very man who created you, who should have nurtured your interest in all that was virtuous. He is the villain and you merely his tool.

“No.” He shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the thoughts that always tried to rationalize his crimes.

He had read Paradise Lost in his first year of life. He’d watched the cottage family and learned about history, the villainy of man and the virtues of good people. Yet, he’d followed the path of revenge.

A justified revenge against your creator, who turned away from you. A man who destroyed your only possibility for happiness when he dismembered your mate, the only other being who could be your equal in strength and immortality. You tried to reason with him, but he failed you.

As if he could escape the immature reasoning of his past, he ran up his mountain, focusing on his steps, pushing his muscles, avoiding the slopes where a fall would be imminent.

But what would it matter? Victor had created a being of immortality. If he fell, he would continue to breathe and grow hungry and be tortured by his own conscience. Did the good doctor know that would happen, or did he, and only he, have the knowledge of what could destroy him?

If only Victor had.

If only he’d never been brought into existence.

Then Angel would be dead, frozen to the ground and buried beneath the winter snows or torn apart by wolves like your doomed mate.

He stopped, his breathing barely heavy despite the high altitude. Once again, a sense that Angel could be his salvation churned in his gut. Could she give him the forgiveness he needed? Could he save her, all of her, including her hands and then find the peace he sought?

And then watch her leave to return to her life.

Even as he caught his breath, he resisted the urge to fight against the fact she would desert him. It was part of the sacrifice he had to make. It was necessary.

But what if she didn’t want to leave? Again, the feel of her tongue on his own pushed to the forefront of his mind and with it the remembered feel of her body against his own as he warmed her back to life, but he refused to follow that thought to a happy conclusion. Fate had decreed that he—

A scream from his cabin, too faint for a man to hear, caught his attention. Spinning around, he ran down the mountainside, his heart now beating faster than a woodpecker’s peck. Images of a bear breaking in, or worse yet, entering because he’d left the door ajar, filled him with fear. Reaching the cabin without mishap, he bounded up the steps and pushed the door open.

Inside all was calm, Angel’s breathing even. Relief surged through him, and he sat in the chair next to the bed before his legs could buckle beneath him. Gently, he pulled the quilt up.

Timber had said the medicine might cause bad dreams. A nightmare. That must have caused her yell, but it appeared to have passed. His own body relaxed as a direct result.

Whether either of them accepted it, they were connected. No one he’d saved in his long life of reparation had been under his care for so long. Circumstances and fate had intervened this time, and he wouldn’t disrespect that.

Angel’s kiss had been no more than a strong medicine acting upon her psyche. If she remembered the action, it would embarrass her. He would act as though it never happened.

He folded his arms across his bare chest. It felt good to move about without a constricting shirt. That she hadn’t turned away in horror was a testament to her kindness.

Curious, he rose and stood before the shard of mirror on his wall. He glanced at her before lifting his hair and examining the scar that crossed his forehead.

Unlike the other stitches made by his creator, the one across his forehead was perfectly symmetrical, following the curve of his head exactly. It had faded so much over the years, almost blending in with his skin tone.

Part of his rage in his first years of life was due to his lack of understanding of why people thought him a horror. He’d lived up to his monstrous outward appearance, going to great lengths to meet people’s expectations by committing monstrous acts. It hadn’t been until the object of his revenge, Victor, had died while chasing him down to kill him that he’d turned his thoughts inward.

Dropping his hair, he combed it with his fingers to cover the scar again. Those stitches were a reminder of the genius brain he’d been given, much like the ones along his body bordered exceptional muscles.

Even his hair had been chosen specifically, according to Victor’s journals. He was to be bigger and better than human. The only thing not in the journals was whether Victor had expected him to be immortal. Was that an accident or purposeful? He’d combed through every drawer and chest in Victor’s apartment where he’d been brought to life, but couldn’t find the answer. If only Victor had written down how his life could be extinguished, he would do it as soon as he’d achieved peace.

After leaving the ship where his creator had finally succumbed to his own mortality, he’d planned to burn himself on a pyre. He’d even told the ship’s captain he would do so, but coward that he was, the minute the fire hit his skin, he jumped from the burning woodpile.

His anguish over his failure had been the very worst moment of his existence. It had also set him on a new path. Somewhere deep inside him was the fear that he wouldn’t find the peace he sought before he lost all feeling. Today, if he were to step upon a burning pyre, it may well take an hour before he felt the need to escape.

He turned to look at Angel in confusion. Her slightest touch, given of her own free will, never mind the influence of the medicine, had broken through the insensitivity of his lips and jolted him into a new awareness. Once again, fate was at work and it was further proof they were connected.

It could be no more than as healer and the injured. He understood that and would have to make that clear if there were any other overtures from her. Those would make it difficult for both of them. He was the stronger one, the healthy one, and the one with the most life experience. He would resist.

Walking toward the bed, he checked once more to be sure she breathed comfortably. Once assured of that, blindly he chose a book at random from his bookshelf and sat down. Opening the cover, he stared at the title page. How to Make Love to a Woman.

~~*~~

Angela enjoyed the sound of Sas’ raspy voice as he read the musketeer tale to her. It was so much more enjoyable to listen to than to read it herself. Luckily, they had started a new routine. He tended to her immediate needs in the morning then spent until lunch getting ready for winter.

After feeding her lunch, he brought in enough wood for the rest of the day and night then settled in to read to her. The story was over five-hundred pages, so even though she read a little in the morning, it would take them forever to finish it.

At night, he fed her dinner then they talked as he worked inside the cabin. “Talked” being a relative term. She talked and he listened for the most part. She only called it a conversation because she’d broke him of the habit of not answering questions he didn’t want to answer. Now he said “I decline to answer,” which was him saying something at least. It also cut out the long pauses in their “talks,” during one of which she’d actually fallen asleep.

It had been almost three days of this routine, and she loved it, which surprised her. It was so simple compared to her normal life or even her vacations. It must have to do with Sas. He fascinated her. Strong and kind yet shy and sexy.

There was only one problem. She stank. She wrinkled her nose as she lowered her face and took a breath. The mint leaves he’d been thoughtful enough to provide her with in the mornings may have helped her breath, but the only thing that had been washed on her body was her hands, feet and face.

Her dilemma was that her hands were no closer to being useful than they were three days ago, which meant to get clean, he’d have to wash her…if he even would. She licked her lips at her problem. On one hand, she was much more than a little attracted to him and him washing her could be a very embarrassing experience for both of them. On the other hand, she had to bathe.

Then there was the bathing itself. He still went outside and showered in the cold. She’d swear the man had ice flowing through his veins if his touch wasn’t so warm. She’d lost count of the number of times he’d gone out without his bearskin coat, some of those times without even a shirt.

There was no way she could handle that cold, never mind having to—

“What’s troubling you?” His change in tone caught her attention.

She smirked. “It’s kind of personal.”

He set down the book. “If you don’t care for the story, I can read you another.” His gazed flicked over the bookshelves before he cleared his throat. “Or I don’t have to read anything.”

“Oh, no. The story is fine. It’s something else entirely.”

From across the room, he actually met her gaze, which was a nice change, except for the fact that she was having a hard time not looking away. She caved and looked down at the quilt, which gave her another whiff of herself. There was just no way to get around it. She glanced up at him and grimaced. “I stink.”

“You stink? I don’t understand. Is that a figurative term?”

Great, now she had to spell it out. “Sometimes, yes, but in this case, no. I stink in as I smell like I haven’t bathed in over a week, which is actually the case.”

His eyebrows rose up beneath his hair before he looked away and nodded. “Of course. I should have thought of that.” He rose and strode toward the kitchen.

“No, you shouldn’t have. I should have, a lot sooner than this. You take excellent care of me.” She didn’t want him beating himself up over this like he had about the cabin cooling off.

He opened the door to the pantry, but stopped at her comment. “I didn’t think of it sooner because your scent pleases me.”

He disappeared through the door, which was good because she could feel herself blushing. Shoot, how would she get through some kind of bathing if all he had to do is tell her she smelled good?

If only she could wait until her hands healed, but from the way they looked last time he cleaned them, it would still be awhile. At least the burning had grown less intense when she moved them.

Noise coming from behind the cabin had her craning her neck. Sas’ cave was his storage and pantry. He actually told her all about it just the day before. It stayed very cool but not freezing which was perfect for storing potatoes and onions as well as meats and fish. He said it was well ventilated as well, so nothing grew mold.

She couldn’t wait until she could stand on her own two feet and move around a little. She wanted to explore everything in the cabin. It would tell her a lot more about Sas than he did. She enjoyed being around a man who wasn’t always talking about himself for a change, but it would be a lot easier to know him if he was a little more communicative.

A large pale pink square with rust on it came through the pantry door first. More of it appeared followed by Sas who carried it.

She was too impatient to wait. “What’s that?”

He set it on the floor facing her. “An old refrigerator.”

An old refrigerator? She studied it before realizing it was missing the door. The sides were a pale pink with a good share of rust, but inside was white and smooth. It had to be from the nineteen-fifties or something. “What’s that for?”

As usual, he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilted the old appliance onto its back. “This is what I use to wash clothes in the winter.”

Now that was ingenious. “Where did you get something like that out here?”

“I found it at the dump in Savik. Four-Point allowed me to place it on a sled and hook it to the back of his snow machine. I gave him a deer I’d killed in trade. He has to feed his wife as well as himself.”

No wonder she enjoyed being with Sas. Life out in the wilderness was creative and the people who lived out here really worked together. It was a refreshing change from city life where people bashed windows over a simple parking space. And why? Because they didn’t want to walk so far. Just keeping warm out here was more effort than that.

Sas moved to the kitchen and pulled out two large pots, far bigger than anything he’d used to cook with. They were the size of large lobster pots she’d seen when she’d travelled on the east coast of Maine.

After filling them with water, he placed them on the wood stove and added wood to the fire. She watched him work, enjoying the movement of his muscles, especially when he lifted the heavy pots. When his biceps tensed, the veins on the inside of his arms stood out in stark relief. She was so happy his shirt tore on his way to Timber’s because it improved her view one hundred percent. Sas’ body made her want to sigh with desire.

Not that she could act on that feeling. Right now, she was ridiculously weak. Once her feet were healed enough, she planned on doing squats and crunches and anything else to help rebuild her strength. Sas was certainly feeding her well enough to aid her in that direction.

He disappeared into the pantry again and her curiosity grew. What did doing laundry have to do with—oh. She stared at the refrigerator then moved her gaze to the pots and back again. That would be her bathtub.