It takes all of my will to rip myself away from Elle’s side as she rests. While she’s unconscious, I can stare at her stunningly beautiful face as long as I want to.

And inhale the sweet bouquet of her perfumes and feminine scent.

Listen to her soft moans.

Admire the soft curves of every square inch of her innocent looking body.

And I can fantasize about claiming said innocence right here on my bed.

Taste her sweet nectar.

Hold her against my body all night.

Keep her here forever.

But fantasizing is the pastime of fools. It’s not practical or realistic for me. This gorgeous beauty could never look at me with the desire I already have for her. Like everyone else out there in the world, she’s sure to find me repulsive.

Because I. Am. Hideous.

A beast.

A monster.

I’m lucky to be alive, after one side of my body was half blown to bits back in Afghanistan. So they all say. That I’m lucky to be alive. That I cheated death. But this existence isn’t living. Hiding out here in the woods up on Mount Charleston is no life at all. I just don’t have an alternative. Living in practical solitude with only Samuel as a companion, well, it fucking sucks but it’s all I got. No offense to my best friend.

Before the accident, I was the center of attention. The life of the party. The man of the hour. Large and in charge. I was the guy who had it all. I had the rugged good looks, the potential, the strength, the charisma, and sadly, I was the most superficial son of a bitch in the room at any given point in time. Now, I have nothing. Less than nothing. Well, I have my best friend. I should be thankful for him.

And right now, Samuel has a point about getting down to brass tacks and bringing in the firewood. A trip to fetch more of it out in the backwoods would take hours, instead of the few minutes to get this batch in from the cold before it’s of no use to us. Even if I don’t want to leave her side for that long.

With much hesitation, I snatch up my winter jacket and follow him outside to get the job done. Except Elle starts to stir almost as soon as we’re back inside. Before she can open her eyes and fully take in the room, I bolt off of the bed and move double time to the other side of the bedroom door to the living room. If she sees my face, I’ll scare the living fuck out of her, and she’s sure to want to get the hell away from our place.

I want to save her from having to endure looking at me. Save myself from her reaction too, if I’m being honest. I could never get used to the looks people got in their eyes when they saw me after I made it back to the States. Reactions that ranged from uneasiness to pity to downright revulsion, and their inability to make eye contact with me irked me to no end.

I want Elle to stick around long enough to get to know more about her. For that to happen, I need to avoid all the inconvenience and discomfort that go along with her laying eyes on my face.

It’s superficial as fuck.

I know it is.

But I would know.

I used to be the shallow one.

It’s at times like these that I know my scars are really a life lesson for what used to be my massive ego.

The ultimate karma.

A virtual kick in the teeth from the universe.

Because I know for damn sure there’s no God.

Not after everything I saw during the last two tours.

God wouldn’t let that evil shit go down. He wouldn’t let arrogant religious fanatics put automatic rifles in the hands of little boys who are too small to carry them in the first place, let alone point and shoot and anything that moves.

I get pulled from my thoughts when Elle tries to speak. Yes, Samuel can handle the welcome wagon duty. He’s got scars on his back from the IED explosion too, but they’re nothing like the layers of thick, red disfiguring scar tissue from burns down the side of half my face, neck and shoulder.

Safely out of her field of vision, I listen as she meekly asks where she is and who we are. A bit of pride swells up inside my chest when she asks about me. Well, not me, per se, but she wants to know what happened to the second man who rescued her. It feels good to be acknowledged, if even in such an indirect way.

“I’m Samuel, and my friend who was with me is Bastian. We’re just a couple of miles away from your cabin. We’re your neighbors. Try not to move,” he adds. “Your head hit the ground pretty hard when you fell.”

“I feel so dizzy,” she whispers in a hushed voice as soft and sultry as sin. It’s the exact same tone I imagined her calling my name with as I eye-fucked her earlier.

“It’s probably a mild concussion.”

“Right… ouch.”

She begins to reach a hand back to the bandage on the back of her head, and Samuel stops her by wrapping his fingers around her wrist. My jealousy ratchets up a notch. The lucky bastard gets to keep touching her while I’m stuck all the way over here on the other side of the bedroom door. Even if it’s my doing, being here, I kind of hate him for it.

“Don’t touch it,” he says to her. “You’ve got a nasty cut there too. More like road rash, and I’m sure you have a good idea how easy it is for that type of injury to be infected.”

“Oh, okay. I’m Elle, by the way. Elle Warner.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Warner.”

“Please, call me Elle. And it’s nice to finally meet you too. I’ve been curious to meet my neighbors, but some of them… some of you are really scarce.”

“Yes. We tend to keep to ourselves,” he explains. “There aren’t a lot of friendly hermits around.”

She smiles for the first time since she woke up and it brightens the whole room. I hate that I can’t see it up close. “You’re right. It’s kind of an oxymoron.”

“You’re friendly enough. But my guess is you’re not a permanent mountain resident… are you?”

I shake my head at Samuel’s question. We both know from old man Joe Green that Elle’s only renting her cabin for four months. But I understand why he’s asking. It’d creep her out if she knew how much we already know about her. For sure she’d think we’re fucking stalkers with peeping Tom tendencies. Not an appealing personality trait in the eyes of a woman living alone in such a remote part of the country.

“I’m afraid not,” she replies, confirming what we already knew. “I’ll just be at my cabin for another month while I finish something I’m working on. Although…goodness, I have no idea about that anymore…” A painful expression washes over her face. “The roof… my keys… my things inside…” She tries to sit up again, and Samuel stops her once more.

“You really need to try not to move. We’re sorry about what happened at your cabin.”

“I need to call someone…for help,” she persists. “May I use your phone? I need to let Mr. Green know. He’s my landlord.”

“Not to worry. We’ll get him to call someone tomorrow. Everyone’s hunkered down for the storm. It’s not safe out there.”

“I know, but my things. And my car… it’s parked under a huge tree.” She struggles to push off the bed again. “Please…I need to go back there. I can’t afford to lose my work!”

“Calm down, Elle. It’ll all be fine. You need to rest.”

“No, you don’t understand. There’s work on my laptop that I didn’t get a chance to back up. I can’t lose my data. It’s in my truck, but with this weather, I can’t trust that it’ll be fine overnight.” She gives Samuel a more forceful shove when he tries to get her to lie back this time. “I appreciate your concern, but I have to go now,” she insists.

I can tell she won’t back down.

“It’s okay,” I shout from my spot at the door, taking her by surprise because she didn’t know I was standing there, and can’t see me as I’m making best efforts to keep my face hidden. “I’ll go get your things.”

“No. I can do it myself. I just need to grab my car keys from inside the house and I—”

“No!” I bark, and the sound echoes around the cabin.

I regret being so adamant for a split second when I see Elle visibly shake from the firmness of my voice. Or maybe because she can’t see the person behind the voice. It’s bad enough that she’ll eventually see that I’m ugly as sin, and now I’m being rude and rough with the woman. Not a smart move at all. It’s not my intention to scare her, but she needs to understand that her cabin’s dangerous to enter right now.

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that,” I say a lot more calmly. “I’m Bastian. And Samuel’s right. If you get out of that bed, our next stop will be at the resort hospital, not your cabin. You probably have a concussion. It’s not safe to move until you’re better. Didn’t you see what happened? You almost died from the roof collapse. Listen to us. If you have to have your things, I’ll drive over there. Did you say your laptop was inside the truck?”

“Yes. The keys are still in the cabin, but there’s a spare set in the glove compartment.”

“I’ll find a way to get to your car keys, and I’ll drive your truck over here. If I can’t make it inside the house, I’ll break one of the truck windows if I have to.”

“Try not to get my work bag wet, if possible. The laptop’s in it. The bag’s in the cab behind the driver’s seat,” she adds, essentially giving me the okay to inflict damage on her truck if needed, as long as I spare her laptop.

“Okay. I’ll take care of it, and tomorrow, Samuel and I can go back for my pickup truck if I do get into your vehicle tonight.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s fine. I can tell that no matter what we say, you want that laptop here with you. Not to worry. Consider it done.” I give Samuel a nod and turn to leave. I half-hate him even more, that he gets to stay and I volunteered to go. But it has to be this way. She needs someone she’ll feel safe with. And fuck if she’ll ever feel safe to be alone with my fugly, disfigured face.

“Thank you for understanding, Bastian, was it?” Elle says to me while I’m walking away.

I wave a hand over my shoulder but keep walking. “Not a problem.”