Frostbitten (30 page)

I didn’t hear any sound of pursuit, though, and that was the important thing. I carefully moved toward what seemed to be a break in the forest. I could see the lights flickering through the last curtain of trees.

I stepped to the edge. A laugh came from the other direction. I wheeled. No one was there. The clearing stretched as far as I could see—a ribbon of white bordered by trees. Not a clearing, but a road. Perfect. I grinned. The skin over my cheeks pulled sharply with the sudden movement, as if my face had been mere seconds from freezing solid.

I turned back toward the headlights… and found myself staring down an equally long expanse of winding empty road, with no sign of the lights.

The rumbling of engines continued. I started following the road, looking for a place the snowmobiles could have turned off. Then I spotted the lights again, moving deeper into the woods on the other side.

I glanced each way, assuring myself no one was around, then I started across. A crack ripped through the night, loud as gunfire, and I spun, realizing I was in the middle of the road, too far to dive for cover on either side.

A long, bubbling laugh sounded off to my right, barely audible over the dull roar of the engines. I peered into the night.

Another crack came. Not from my left or my right…

I looked down. The laugh sounded again, the bubbling burble of water flowing over rocks. With a third crack, a spider web of fissures shot through the “snow” at my feet.

This wasn’t a road. It was a river. And I stood in the middle of it.

I looked around, keeping the rest of me perfectly still. The “engines” continued to rumble, water, running fast and free some where in front of me. I could see those lights dancing in the forest, and the babble of water still sounded like laughter—taunting laughter now.

I told myself it was Tesler and his buddies with flashlights, but that creeping feeling down my back said otherwise, recalled the lights leading us through the forest two nights ago. There were no humans here. No werewolves. No mysterious beasts. Just something… else. Something primitive, capricious and cruel. Some magic, deep in the forest that cared little for my survival.

The lights danced for a moment, then winked out.

The ice beneath my feet groaned. I took a careful step. Then slid my other foot forward as slowly and carefully as I could, shifting my weight—

With a tremendous crack, the ice under me gave way and my legs plunged into the water, the cold so unbelievable that my brain shorted out, my gasp ringing in my ears. Then I felt ice under my fingers and under my cheek and I snapped to. I lay half on the ice, blessedly solid—

Without even a warning crack, the piece broke away and dropped into the river, me still clinging to it. I felt the water surge over me, so cold it was an ice pick to my brain. And then, nothing.

I came to hurtling downstream underwater, caught in the current. I fought, twisting and writhing, but it was like tumbling through space. I had no idea which way was up. The agony of the cold was indescribable and my barely functional brain could only stutter through half-remembered statistics.

It took twenty minutes to die in icy water. Or was that two minutes? No, it had to be ten. At least ten. Please let it be ten.

I finally got my eyes open enough to see the way up—faintly lighter than the other directions. I propelled myself toward it. Up, up—

My fists bashed against solid ice.

I kept bashing, so close to freedom, those statistics circling my head like vultures. But it was like trying to break a window with a feather. My superstrength didn’t matter. The water kept me from getting up enough momentum to break the ice.

I was trapped and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. All my strength, all my powers, all my instinct to survive—all useless.

When we die, we’re supposed to see the faces of our loved ones flashing before our eyes. I wanted that. I so desperately wanted that. Everyone I cared about—Clay, my children, Jeremy, my Pack, my friends.

But my brain wouldn’t let me picture them. It just kept screaming that I was going to die and I had to do something.

I opened my eyes a slit again and saw one patch of ice overhead that was lighter than the rest, as if I could see the snow through it. I swam toward it, fighting the current, barely moving but keeping at it, inch by inch. I knew that patch was probably an illusion—the reflection of a star through the thick ice. I knew I probably wasn’t even going to make it that far.

And then I saw my family’s faces, not a serene, smiling final portrait of my loved ones, but Kate’s blue eyes wide with panic, Logan’s dark with worry, Clay’s blazing, furious as he snarled at me to stop thinking I wouldn’t make it, stop thinking it wouldn’t be a hole, just swim, goddamn it, swim!

I reached up. My hands broke the water’s surface, then came down on an edge as sharp as a steel blade. I gripped it, but the ice shattered under my fingers.

I pushed my head up, out of the water, gasping. The air felt like red-hot pokers shoved down my throat, the pain nearly making me black out. But I lifted my head above the water until I caught my breath, then felt along the edge of the icy hole. I found the thickest spot and managed to get my chest up onto the ice, but when I tried to push out farther, the ice groaned and cracked.

“Hold still!” a voice shouted.

I turned my head to see a figure running along the river’s edge. It was Noah, stripping off his jacket as he ran. I tried to wriggle farther onto the ice.

“Hold still!” he yelled. “If it breaks, you’re going under and you aren’t coming back up.”

He stopped parallel to me, then shimmied out on the ice until he got as far as he deemed safe. He tested it, rocking back and forth, then crouched. Holding one cuff of his jacket, he tossed it toward me. The other sleeve sailed out like a life-rope… and fell six inches short of my hand.

I wiggled, trying to reach it, but he yanked the jacket back with an angry “Stay
still
.”

Moving on his stomach, he inched farther out, then threw it again. This time, it brushed my fingers. I caught the edge of the cuff, something I could tell by sight alone, my fingers too numb to feel the fabric between them.

I managed to get enough of a grip to tug myself nearer, then wrap it around my wrist. Noah pulled. I kicked, wriggling onto the ice, hearing it crack behind me. Noah kept pulling, carefully, then he heaved. The ice cracked and fell away as I shot toward him.

Noah backed up, still pulling, still telling me not to move, his face taut with concentration, tendons bulging as he dragged me to the riverbank.

“Okay,” he said as I came to rest, huddled at the edge. “We need to—”

“What’d you pull out of the river, boy?” a voice echoed from the forest. “Is that my girl?”

Tesler stepped from the woods, his brother at his heels. Noah straightened. He turned from me, and there was my chance to escape. Leap up, knock Noah down and run… and I was no more capable of doing that than if I’d been bound hand and foot.

I huddled there, shaking violently. I tried to concentrate, but it was like standing on the precipice to oblivion—it took everything I had just to stay conscious and breathe.

“She fell in,” Noah called back. His voice had changed, concern falling away, the timbre deepening, like a teen boy with his buddies. “Stupid city bitch. She ran out onto the river and fell through. If you want her alive, you’re going to need to get her back to the cabin, pronto. She needs to get out of those wet clothes.”

Tesler bent over me, teeth and eyes glittering. “Well, then, that’s what we’ll have to do. I wasn’t planning to keep her in them for long anyway.”

I wish I could say I fought every step of the way. But even as that primitive part of me went wild with fear and panic, the rational part leapt in. I could feel my body shutting down, hypothermia like a sedative creeping through my veins, whispering for me to go to sleep, just go to sleep. The only fighting I could do now was to struggle to stay alive. And staying alive at this moment meant letting Tesler sling me over his shoulder and carry me to their cabin.

* * * *

Their “cabin” was a big vacation house. The thick layer of dust over the knickknacks told me it didn’t get much use, so I presumed they were squatting here, knowing there was little danger of the owner showing up. The security system had been ripped from the wall. Pizza boxes were piled by the door. Stains covered the carpets. The place reeked like a frat house—of spilled beer and sweaty bodies.

“You need to get her undressed,” Noah said, dogging Tesler’s heels as he entered the living room.

“Oh, believe me, I’m getting to it.”

“Now, Travis. I’m not kidding.”

I tried to look at Noah, but he’d turned away. Tesler dumped me on the bearskin rug in front of a smoldering fireplace.

“Strip.”

“I’ll grab her some—” Noah began.

Tesler wheeled on him. “You’ll get her nothing, boy.” To me, he said, “Strip. Unless you’d prefer I did it for you.”

I pulled off my shirt. It took a few tries—my fingers refused to clamp on the fabric. I finally pushed my hands under and shoved it up over my head.

The cabin was already warm, with the fireplace still going and a woodstove blasting across the room. Tesler threw another log on the fire, then added tinder—pages ripped from books stacked by the fireplace. He looked over sharply as Noah reappeared in the living room, a towel in hand.

“Didn’t I tell you—?”

“It’s one towel. She needs to dry off.” He walked over to me, and lowered his voice. “Don’t rub too hard. Just pat your skin. You need to warm up slowly. Don’t get close to the fire.”

“You’re a regular Boy Scout, aren’t you?” Tesler said.

Noah shot a glower Tesler’s way. “Do you want her
with
her fingers and toes or without?”

I was fumbling with the button on my jeans as Noah approached. He slung the towel over his shoulder and grunted “Here.” He undid the button for me, as circumspectly as he could. His knuckles brushed my belly, but I couldn’t feel it. He pulled the zipper down, then hesitated.

“Got it,” I said as I wedged my hands under my waistband.

I pushed my jeans down over my hips. He didn’t move, staying so close I could hear his breath picking up speed.

“Oh, he’s a Boy Scout all right,” Eddie said. “Never seen a naked woman before, Noah?”

“Only on his computer screen,” Tesler said.

They laughed as Noah muttered, “Fuck off,” handed me the towel and started backing up, gaze still on me.

“Better get that bra, too, boy,” Tesler said. “I don’t want
those
freezing and falling off.”

“I can manage.” I slipped my hands under the straps. I got them down over my arms, but no farther, the chest band still tightly fastened, cups hanging, fingers too numb to work the front clasp.

“Come on, Noah,” Eddie said. “Be a gentleman. Help the lady.”

Noah slid forward and stopped in front of me, eyeing the clasp. He unhooked it, hands trembling, fingers grazing the bottom of my breasts as the Tesler laughed at him.

I doubt it was the first time the seventeen-year-old had unfastened a bra, but it was more than that making his breath speed up. His nostrils flared as he drank in my scent.

He took the bra off, wrapped it around his hands and stood there, looking down at me in my panties, his own pants tenting furiously.

“Thanks,” I murmured, gaze averted as I took my bra from him.

He backed away slowly, still staring. I tried to wrap the towel around me, but it was only a hand towel—I’m sure Tesler would have taken it away if it covered more. I could feel all three of them staring now. I resisted the urge to cover myself or turn away. If Travis wanted me to cower in shame, I wasn’t giving him that satisfaction.

“You forgot something.” He pointed at my panties. “Noah, give the lady a hand.”

I pushed them down to my ankles and kicked them aside.

“You owe me twenty bucks, bro,” Eddie said. “I told you she was a natural blond.”

I moved a little closer to the fire. Not too close, heeding Noah’s warning about warming up too fast and knowing it was true—I’d had frostbite before.

A few feet from the fire, I bent and sat cross-legged, then started drying my hair. They continued to stare as if
none
of them had ever seen a naked woman before.

“You know, you look even better without your clothes,” Tesler said. “And you looked damned fine in them.”

I ignored him and squeezed water out of my hair.

He continued. “I heard you have a couple of kids. Can’t tell. You didn’t lose your figure, that’s for sure.”

Actually, any “figure” I had these days came courtesy of my kids. I’d always been thin—athletic and boyish. But now there was some swell to my hips and I’d graduated to a B cup. Not that Clay cared—if he even noticed. Things like that weren’t important to him.

At that moment, though, I would have preferred my old body. Maybe it would make Tesler change his mind. Wishful thinking, I know. He didn’t care what I looked like. His interest had nothing to do with sex and attraction. It was all about dominance and control.