I stood in the shadow of the rock to catch my breath and then circled around the granite. The wraith hovered in the chilled night air, staring at me with its glowing eyes, a hideous slit for a mouth tilting into a monstrous grin.
"We're done here, fuckface." I lifted my gun, slightly stunned at how still the beast remained, even as it faced down the barrel.
As my frozen finger curled against the trigger, a black gaping hole opened beneath the yellow eyes and a cloud of noxious fumes covered my face, suffocating and blinding me. I fired a shot and a wraith scream followed. Somehow, in my blind, dizzying haze, I'd managed to hit the damn thing. But not before it took one last swipe at its nemesis. Through the blurred fog of the fumes, I saw the glint of a blood stained sickle, a deadly, razor sharp hook-shaped blade. It sliced across my chest. The numbness from the cold delayed the pain. My gun belt fell away, and hot blood cascaded over my otherwise icy skin.
A sickle clawed wraith was rare but more evil and deadly than most. I'd made the rookie mistake of misjudging it because of its size and smell. My miscalculation might just have cost me my life. The acrid fumes cleared, leaving a choking bitter taste in my throat. My eyes felt as if they were pools of fire, and my blood was now painting the powder white snow a deep red.
I braced my hand against the granite to keep myself upright as I waited for the dead wraith to turn to a gelatinous vapor. My bullet had split its head wide open enough that the two yellow eyes stared in opposite directions. It bubbled into a gray gel before withering into the putrid dust of death. Every last speck then disappeared into the snow. It was gone for good, but it had left me with an injury that might very well prove fatal.
I had inadvertently cupped my palm beneath the river of blood flowing from my chest. It spilled over my fingers, and I watched it cascade to the snow like a macabre waterfall. Bile rose in my throat, and my vision deteriorated as my head swam from blood loss. I scooped up a chunk of snow and held my breath as I jammed the icy crumbs into the gash to slow the flow of blood. It took all my strength to sweep my broken gun belt up off the snow. I shoved the gun back in the holster and jammed the broken leather strap under my arm. I needed to find shelter, a place where I could figure out a way to sew the thick, deep gash. I'd sewn my own cuts many times before. It was a skill we'd learned first before hunting wraith, before shifting into another life form. The trainers, Boys of Wynter who had grown too old and tired for the hunt, taught us first to survive under the worst possible circumstances. When we were eleven, Maximus, Flint, Wilder and I had been yanked from Nessa's comforting and nurturing home. We were thrown almost immediately into the wilderness, naked and scared and without food, water or shelter. It was our first lesson in a long string of lessons that prepared us for our predestined lives.
The snow had stopped, but the night air grew more frigid. It helped slow the flow of blood. My motorcycle was no doubt buried in a snowdrift a good three miles away.
I looked around for some sign of life or shelter. While my sight grew dim, my nose picked up the light, sweet scent of burning wood. A fire. A glowing hearth. Somewhere someone had built a fire. I stumbled in the direction of the smoke, fully aware that I was more than likely to get shot by anyone seeing me approach. I was a six foot two, tattooed half naked man. Not to mention that the blood streaming down my chest would make it that much more obvious to a stranger that I wasn't up to anything wholesome or good out on the tundra.
I stumbled forward several steps and somehow managed to stay upright. The brutal reality that I was quickly losing my bearings sent an unexpected laugh through me, which sent a stabbing pain through my chest.
I trudged through the deep snow in the direction of the smoke. Each step felt as if I was being sucked into one of the bone breaking sludge holes that dotted the Wynter landscape. It was one of those holes that just days earlier had snapped Flint's lower leg clean in two. In my weakened state, the deep snow pack felt just as treacherous.
My head pounded enough that even the starlight glinting off the white landscape made me squint in pain. Fuck. That bottle of whiskey sounded better than anything now.
A pale glow arched over the top of a hill. It wavered as if coming from flames, glowing red flames. I headed toward the glow. The incline was small, but it felt as if I was climbing the final peak of Everest. I stopped at the crest of the hill to catch my breath and regain my balance. The cabin was a wavy blur as if the stacked logs were shifting back and forth in a dance.
I moved to lift my foot but there was nothing. It was as if I no longer had control over my limbs. I stood there staring at the cabin, a miraculous shelter in the dark of night, a place to sew my wound and regain my strength. Only I couldn't reach it. And then, as if the black night air had swallowed me completely, I dropped to my knees. The last thing I saw was my own blood splattered across the snow.
Chapter Three
Willow
Gunner finished licking his white winter coat and then trotted over to curl up on the rug in front of the fire.
"Gunny, I wonder how many other Arctic foxes are spending this bone chilling night in front of a roaring hearth?"
The fox moved almost as if shrugging off my silly comment before resting his head down. Instantly, his head popped back up, and the white tufts of fur on his triangular ears pointed toward the window.
"Those noises you are hearing are the snow critters who actually live outside. Yes, there are some poor souls out there in the freezing snow." I focused back on my book and got no more than two sentences in when Gunner shot to his feet and raced to the window. He stood up on his back legs, resting his front paws on the window sill. Three sharp barks followed.
"It's going to be one of those nights, isn't it?" I shook my head and dropped my book onto the table. "Every noise barked at and every wisp of wind howled at."
I humored the fox and joined him at the window. I smeared away the condensation on the glass pane and peered out into the night. It was just a dark speck. It could have been dust in my eye or a rogue eyelash hanging over my iris, but it wasn't.
I patted Gunner on the head. "Good job, Gunny. We better go see if it's a wounded animal."
I grabbed my woolen cape and draped it over my threadbare cotton pajamas. After two years living in the bitter climate of the tundra, I'd grown so used to the frigid temperatures, I had little need for protective winter gear. Of course my unique genetic nature probably helped with my astounding acclimation to the cold.
I grabbed the kerosene lantern off the table and wrenched open the front door. Gunner and I instinctively turned our faces away from the icy wind pummeling the cabin. My bare feet plunged into the snow, and I plowed toward the motionless animal.
It was hard to discern where the lump ended and the dark night sky began, but the bright white canvas beneath showed the bold outline of something big. A bear, I thought. Too big to be a mountain elk, and there were no antlers jutting up from the ice.
Gunner released a frightened yelp and raced back to the cabin. I lifted my lantern and watched my faithful friend push open the door with his paws and disappear inside. Gunner was easily frightened, but I'd never seen him dash away from an animal that was so gravely injured that it no longer posed a threat.
I pulled shut my cape and trudged ahead. I saw no flicker of life, but as I neared the lump, a breath caught in my throat. The black outline in the snow had been blood, a pool so wide there was little chance that the animal lying in the center of it was still breathing. I still couldn't make out the form, and the biting wind made my eyes water and my vision blurry. I lifted the lantern higher but the light wavered wildly in the wind.
I finally reached the bloodied mass, and the breath I'd caught earlier ushered out in a long, stunned sigh.
The recent storm had left a good two feet of powder, and, apparently, a dead stranger. The man was lifeless and blue, wrapped in a cocoon of ice and blood and drained of color. Except the blue, the blue that assured me he was dead.
Everything e
lse was as it should be, a never ending carpet of white and cold. There were no footsteps leading to the place where he had given up his fight to survive. But then two feet of snow would have erased them.
It was terrible but I was relieved to see that he was dead. I was guardian only of the animals. Sabre had handed out that edict herself. A hybrid freak, as the other guardians had so charmingly labeled me, was not allowed to watch over humans. And it had suited me fine. The animals, even the ones that made their homes in this harsh environment, were my charge. It was what I wanted. It was as it should be.
I ran my lantern like a sputtering spotlight over the man from head to toe and suddenly felt guilty for being thankful he was dead. Even in his lifeless state, he was a breathtaking, powerful example of a man. The dark lashes that cast spiked shadows over his sallow cheeks hid what I could only imagine were incredible eyes. And the magnificence didn't stop there. The thick corded muscles of his naked torso drew my gaze along his body. I looked past the horrid, mortal wound on his chest as my eyes drifted along the sinewy muscles of his stomach, symmetrical rows of hard muscle bisected by an erotic trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the low slung waist of his buckskin pants. My gaze stopped for far too long to take in the outline of his manhood beneath the well-worn fabric. Instantly, the natural urges I constantly suppressed seeped into every muscle in my body and a warmth trickled between my legs. I could never deny the passion that I kept tightly hidden. It was always there, waiting to burst free from that iron box I called a heart. My mother had given me the innate ability to walk with the wild animals, a connection and skill that I cherished, but she'd also passed on to me the curse of insatiable physical lust. Only she had allowed that hunger to rule her life. It had left her alone and heartbroken. I had no intention of making the same reckless decisions. Living in a barren landscape, surrounded only by critters of the tundra, had made that an easy task.
I glanced around the area one last time to decipher how the man had gotten so far in the frozen terrain. But there was nothing. It was as if he'd been dropped there at my doorstep for no other purpose except to die.
I couldn't leave his body out on the snow. It would attract every type of carrion-eating predator, and I couldn't bear to watch the man have the flesh eaten from his bones. He had been someone's brother or son or husband. I stared down at his restful face. His full mouth had turned blue from the cold, even in the bristly warmth of his beard. I couldn't imagine the depth of heartbreak some woman would be feeling once she realized she'd lost him.
I stomped back to the cabin and pushed inside. Gunner had resumed his position in front of the fire, only this time he was pulled in a much tighter circle as if hiding from something.
"It's all right, Gunny. The man is dead. He can't harm you."
I put the lantern, which had fizzled to a mere red glow in the cold air, on the table. I'd have to rely solely on the moonlight's reflection off the snow. I pulled on my boots and added a scarf around my neck. I lifted it up over my nose to keep the frost from my face. I plucked Pilgrim's harness off the door hook and headed out to the back of the cabin. I whistled for Pilgrim as I set to work readying the sled. Although to call it a sled was an overstatement. It was a crudely made stretcher, a worn out bear pelt stretched between sturdy branches. But with Pilgrim's help, it was the perfect vehicle for transporting injured or sick animals. Only tonight there was no moose or bear or elk.
I heard the plodding, padded feet of Pilgrim behind me. The polar bear's oversized black nose twitched in the direction of the blood scented snow. His black eyes showed me that he knew why I'd summoned him. I had no real plan except to drag the body to the shed behind the cabin where it would be safe from carcass eating birds.
I lowered the leather harness over Pilgrim's big head and buckled it on tight. This was no light cargo. I only hoped I'd have the strength to drag the man onto the sled. Pilgrim lowered his round head and moved slowly through the new snow behind me. I put my hand up to lead the bear around in a circle so that the bottom edge of the bear hide was right below the man's dark hair.
I stood for a moment and tapped my chin to devise a plan. I saw no other way. I stepped over him so that I had a foot on each side of his head. My boots squelched in the slushy mix of blood and snow, and I was thankful that I'd had the forethought to pull them on. I gazed down at the man with his muscular arms and legs splayed out in the snow. The weight of him had caused his body to suck down into the snow. If only he'd sunk deep enough to disappear completely into an icy grave, then my burden would not have been so great.
I pushed the scarf up over my face to keep it warm and leaned down over the body. I curled my fingers under his arms. Then I crouched lower, nearly sitting on his face as I used all my strength to pull him.
"Fuuck." The sound was low and deep. Nonetheless, it sent me a good five feet into the air. I landed with a thud in the blood drenched snow right next to the man.
I glanced at Pilgrim, who had turned his big head and fluffy ears back toward the sound. I couldn't talk directly to animals, but I always knew well what they were thinking and Pilgrim was assuring me that the sound hadn't come from him.
My mind worked to decipher what I'd heard as I pushed up to my knees and leaned down over the man. Perhaps it was just the mythical death rattle I'd heard, the final sounds of a body shutting down for good. Only I'd never heard mention of the rattle sounding like the word fuck.
I pushed it off as my imagination. Now, covered in his blood, I rose up on my knees and was close to standing when a large, icy hand grabbed my wrist. He had moved so fast, I didn't have time to work up a proper scream. But I was sure my eyes showed my terror as he revealed his pale green gaze.
He stared hard at the dark pink star, the angel's mark, on my forearm and then lifted his heavy lids to look at me. The scarf was still around my face and I was relieved that he couldn't see how stunned and frightened I was.
"Are you a guardian?" His voice was deep and gravelly.
His strong fingers dug into my flesh, and I was sure my wrist bones would break in his grasp. I swallowed hard to get my words flowing, muffled as they were by the scarf. "Yes but only for wild animals."
"That works." As he rested his head back onto its frozen pillow, his dark lashes dropped down, covering the unearthly green of his eyes.
Chapter Four
Willow
The few moments of my patient's consciousness hadn't provided me with any assistance, except by reminding me that I was no longer dragging a corpse through the snow but a live man.
Pilgrim saw how I struggled just to pull him onto the sled, so the wise bear climbed up the three cabin steps, dragging his burden behind him. The bear that I had known since he was an orphaned cub was smaller than the average polar bear, and he managed to squeeze through the front door. Pilgrim had spent his first few months in the cabin and was not afraid to be inside. I pulled the scarf off my face and dropped my woolen cape near the hearth to dry. My worn pajamas were soaked through with snow and blood, and the fabric clung to my skin.
Painful moans and a string of cuss words followed as the makeshift stretcher bounced up the steps and slid in behind Pilgrim. Gunner hopped up from the rug and stepped backed as Pilgrim pulled his load farther into the room. Suddenly, there was more bear and man than house, and the wooden floorboards beneath Pilgrim's paws seemed to whine in protest.
It seemed the warmth from the fire had helped revive my frozen patient. He lifted his head and looked blearily around. It took him a second to focus on the scene in the cabin. Then his eyes landed on me and stayed there long enough for me to feel self conscious about the thin, wet pajamas that showed the dark rose outline of my nipples as clearly as if I wasn't wearing anything at all.
I had no time for modesty or any other counterproductive thoughts. The man was still close to death, and he was leaving a smear of blood on my floor that would never wash out. I was going to suffer major punishment and a terrible lecture for bringing a human i
nto my cabin, but I saw no way around it.
Again, he lifted his head with a groan and looked around. "There's a polar bear in your cabin. And a fox."
"Yes, and Pilgrim doesn't like the heat of the fire, so I need to lead him back outside."
I walked around to the front of the sled to get a better look at his wound in the light. It was deep and would have been fatal on any normal man, but something told me this man was far from normal. "Do you think you could crawl over to my couch? I can work on you right there."
Even in his terrible state, he managed a cocky grin. "Work on me? For that, I can drag myself over to the couch." With some effort and a loud growl of pain he sat up. Fresh red drops of blood instantly ran in rivulets down his chest.
"I need to stitch that shut before you lose any more blood."
He stared down at the gaping slice in his chest. "Probably a good idea." He pushed to his feet for just a second and instantly filled my cabin with the breadth of his shoulders before sinking down on the couch. His long legs hung off the end. He, just like the polar bear, made my entire cabin look as if it belonged to a doll.
I took hold of Pilgrim's bridle. "I'll be right back."
The man lifted an arm that looked as if it was filled with rubber and waved his hand. "I'll be right here."
Chapter Five
Willow
My overly nervous fox followed Pilgrim out into the snow. I quickly removed the harness so the polar bear could get back to his den. Then I returned to the cabin and to my waiting patient with Gunner close at my heels.
I kept a rolling cart with medical supplies in the kitchen. I grabbed a few things I'd need from the cupboard and rolled the cart out to the front room. The noise woke the patient. It took him a confused moment to figure out where he was.