Champagne Romance (Romance Novel)

by Suellen Smith

  The faucet in the bathroom had no gushing water, but an occasional drip gave hopes for drinking water if it didn’t freeze before it was collected. Plane lavatories were designed with lots of insulation to keep water from freezing at high altitudes. If Slater could find a container to catch the drops, he might be able to salvage a swallow every few hours.

  Limping to the gaping hole where the tail had parted from the plane, Slater realized that it needed to be closed before the mountain sleet and snow totally invaded their small space. Visibility was still dense. If other passengers had survived, he saw no evidence. He looked for something that resembled his Stetson. He found nothing. Rummaging through Red’s coat, he found a fur hat and some fur-lined gloves still in his own. Grateful that he had worn his working boots with warm thick wool socks, he immediately began to attack the drift outside the tail with a piece of broken metal that he found next to the battered tail before the snow was too frozen to penetrate.

  Dragging another larger piece of metal debris from where it was buried, Slater partially closed the opening of the wrecked tailpiece. A few more pieces of tin with some packed snow and the wind was curtailed. Surveying his handy work, he was satisfied with the snug little igloo that he had created. If he un-stuffed the plane window, perhaps a fire could be built when the storm had died letting out smoke for ventilation.

  A gnawing in the pit of his stomach told Slater that the next order of survival was sustenance for his hungry growling stomach. A quick dig through the pantry across from the restroom produced a basket of snacks under the lopsided countertop. Oreo Cookies and crumpled Ritz Crackers seemed like a luxury meal. It appeared to be enough to last a while, the question was, “What was a while?”

  Studying the sky through the plane windows, Slater realized that the daylight was getting dimmer. He needed to immediately improvise a makeshift bed for two from available chair cushions and clothing while he could still see. He managed to twist the partially broken metal seats until they gave way to more space and protection from the outside. Putting several seats together, he laced stuffing and clothing around any available item. With some ingenuity, he was able to devise a rather cushy mattress.

  The sky was now twilight and a blanket of darkness was quickly descending. He gathered the limp body of the other sole passenger and carefully placed her on the improvised bed. Her breathing remained shallow. Slater gently pulled her arms from her coat and quickly removed his own. Covering her with both coats he crawled in beside her. Gathering her in his arms, he snuggled her close for the warmth and the protection of his own body. As the wind continued to howl and the sun descended from twilight to deep darkness, Slater was reminded of his last thoughts before crashing and the old saying, “Be careful what you wish for-----.”

  Sometime during the night, Swan stirred and snuggled deeper toward the radiating warmth next to her. Slater immediately woke with her soft breasts and pouting nipples against his chest. The twin nipples with their distended points immediately attacked one layer of morino wool, a t-shirt, and one layer of his naked flesh. They then traveled down his navel, concentrated in his loins, and flipped his pecker from down to up. It was all he could do to stifle a deep moan. Sleep came much, much later.

  CHAPTER 5

  Swan could see bursts of color. There seemed to be a magical rainbow swirling and twirling down a long, long tunnel. She dreamily reached out to touch the kaleidoscope, but every time she tried, it seemed to get farther and farther away as excruciating pain intruded and she continued to become surrounded by heavy darkness.

  Slater felt Swan struggling to surface and become part of the world again. He could feel her suffering restlessly with little whimpers of pain like a small wounded animal. Fearing that she might be much more injured that she appeared, Slater tried to comfort her with soothing whispers and gentle caresses up and down her back. Without really touching her, he began to become as familiar with her body as he was with his own. It was a pleasant distraction.

  Slater’s arms encompassed Swan as they both slept again, each leaving this world for another, each trying to heal their tattered minds and bodies so that they could cope with the disaster that they had been hurled into only yesterday.-- On the third day, Swan’s whimpers ceased. Slater knew that that was the exact moment she began to heal.

  Swan awoke disoriented and in total darkness on the fourth day. Her head ached all over, but she remembered the sights, sounds, and screams of crashing. It was difficult to comprehend that something so hellacious like that could possibly have happened. She wondered if she were alive. Throbbing head pain seemed to indicate that she definitely was. The warm body pressed against her also assured her that she was alive and that she was not alone. She could feel muscle moving up and down with deep breathing. She could hear the steady thud of each heartbeat. Her intuition told her it was male.

  Slater didn’t move a muscle. He knew by instinct that he was being watched even with his eyes shut. He absorbed that thought. Then, he slowly began to open his eyes. Holy shit! He was not prepared for his stomach to drop to his knees and turn to mush. Staring back at him were huge aqua orbs that made him suddenly feel like he was drowning in a pool of sea water. He was totally captivated in a hypnotic trance as each lovely eyeball seemed to be intently searching his soul for something he couldn’t quite grasp. Slater cleared his throat feeling a little uncomfortable with those blue/green orbs and thick black lashes scrutinizing and dissecting him piece by piece.

  The wind outside had died down to a soft breeze and the sun was shining brightly. All that could be heard was the soft breathing of male and female. Realizing the effect this woman was having upon his body, Slater moved slightly to put some distance between them. It was then, that she reached up to run her fingers down his face, over his lips, and down his chin with three days growth as though she were memorizing each tiny detail. She licked her lush red lips with the tip of her tiny pink tongue.

  Slater stifled a groan of pure agony before Red spoke in a quiet whisper, “Are you awake?”

  Funny question--she could see that his eyes were wide open---couldn’t she? Slater stiffened at the magnitude of those three words. He didn’t move an inch. It was as though time stood still in yet again another dimension. His stomach clenched in the dread of what he knew was a strong possibility. Upon closer scrutiny of the piercing pupils, he realized that he was right. Both pupils were almost as big and black as the iris---probable concussion and definitely blindness, which was hopefully temporary. She was waiting for an answer. He pulled her to his chest.

  Not ready to address the situation he only said, “Go back to sleep.”

  Slater lay still like a mummy waiting for Red’s rhythmic breathing to begin again signaling that this blind beautiful lady had once again slipped into the arms of the Sandman. Pondering the helplessness of this fragile woman, he suddenly felt very protective. It was a new feeling for him. He had never been a sucker for the helpless. He learned early in life that the weak do not inherit the earth and only the strong survive.

  Women were meant to party and enjoy. He never thought of them as having any other purpose. It was just part of the female/male tradition as far as he was concerned. For Slater, it was his idea of a functional relationship. Besides, he always gave generously to his female flings with his money and body, just never his soul. Perhaps that was why his conscience never surfaced when he ended a romance, moved on, and rarely looked back.

  Suddenly, the small space of the 707 tail seemed claustrophobic. He needed to get out---he had to get out! Gently, he laid Swan aside and silently “hightailed” it to the sunny outdoors.

  Slater lit a cigarette, thankful for the pack that remained in his left hand pocket. He had been thinking about quitting for some time. This sure as hell wasn’t going to be the chosen day.

  Slater looked over the scenic view of the mountains. The immediate area seemed calm. It surprisingly looked and felt normal. There seemed to be very little disturbance to indicate the raging stor
m and horrific explosion of disaster only a few days ago.

  The snow on the mountaintops was a powder sugar white, pure and sparkly like little crystals as the sun shone down from the middle of the sky picking at each piece as though it were a grain of glitter. It was smooth and wavy, much like looking at an ocean of white foam. Other mountains loomed in the distance each covered with the same snow and each with their own unique shape. All of them seemed to beckon like a siren promising death to those unacquainted with the treacherous hazards of their lethal beauty. Dark gun metal gray clouds floated overhead surrounding and threatening as they looked down on the serene picture below, a likely indicator of more storms to come.

  The Colorado forest line appeared to be a mile or two away. The only unusual disorder was the charcoal path of burned evergreens where Flight 330 had made a trail after breaking off the tailpiece and before crashing into the side of the mountain a few miles away.

  The irony of the near death situation was not lost on Slater. He had always been a lucky bastard. He got to test that theory once again.

  As Slater was about to enter the makeshift lodge, a movement caught his eye. Squinting, he tried to get a visual at the edge of the dark forest, scanning for any form of life. He studied the forest line a while longer. Whatever it was, it appeared to have moved into the dense interior.

  Slater secured the crude entrance to their cold, but cozy cabin. He gathered enough clothing debris for a small fire. A quick glance at Red told him that she had not moved since he had evacuated their cramped space. Perhaps with luck, she would regain her vision long before their ordeal was over. He had to admit that at times when he thought about being alone with a gorgeous sexy woman in some isolated get-away, this was not exactly the dream he envisioned.

  Swan awoke in the middle of the night to the stable heartbeat of the man wrapped around her as he lay sleeping. She could hear the wind blowing outside and the howl of a lonely wolf. She shivered. It was comforting to have this stranger close beside her as she dozed off again to Never Neverland.

  The smell of smoke woke Swan from her deep sleep. She opened her eyes. Frowning, she could see nothing. She grouped for the man that had been beside her. He wasn’t there. Gulping for air, Swan tried to orient herself. Panic began to set in. “Is anyone there?”

  Slater watched for only a half second and immediately came to her side. “I’m right here,” his deep voice rumbled.

  Relief was immediately evident as each frowning feature began to disappear and she reached out for human contact. “I smelled smoke,” she explained in a quivery voice. “What’s burning?”

  “I built a small bonfire to keep us warm,” he replied.

  The minute the words were out of his mouth, Slater wished that he could have taken them back. Empty eyes suddenly filled with tears and began to run down her cheeks.

  Watching this brave woman struggling with the realization of blindness was almost Slater’s undoing. He had seen gruesome things on battlefields that had affected him less. Pulling her to him, he began to rub her shoulders as they started to shake with emotion. Then, the really hard sobbing began as Slater continued to hold and tried to sooth Swan. It wasn’t until sometime later, the sobbing stopped and her body became very still. Slater thought that she had escaped into a sleep mode. He was surprised when she spoke.

  “Why can’t I see?”

  “Your pupils are dilated and I think you probably have a concussion.”

  She seemed to accept the explanation.

  Trying to divert her thoughts, he asked, “What should I call you?”

  Swan didn’t answer right away. She was still struggling to swallow her emotions. One word was all she could choke out, “Swan.”

  “So,” Slater thought, “I guess that that was all the information Red was going to divulge.” He could play that game. “I go by Ace.”

  Swan didn’t react----so much for conversation.

  After a pregnant silence, Swan finally offered an unnecessary apology. “I’m sorry that I became so frightened, but you weren’t beside me.”

  Slater wasn’t sure how to reply to that statement. He wasn’t used to relying on anyone, but himself. That was the way it was when he was growing up, that was the way it was when he was in Kuwait. Except for a few certain buddies that he knew he could always rely on in the most desperate of situations and vice versa, that was the way it always had been.

  Slater immediately felt something deep in his gut. Unable to identify this new emotion, he reacted as he always did with pure instinct. He tucked Swan’s head under his chin and began to stroke her reddish corn silk hair. It tickled the edge of his nose and smelled of fresh roses. A corkscrew lock of curly red hair wound itself around his little finger. Little did he know that it was also intertwining like soft fingers on a vine around his heart.

  Slater looked down at the light blue circles under Swan’s sightless eyes. Driven by an unknown emotion and hoping to reassure her, he reached out to run his thumb over her silky chin line---big mistake! His soothing touch relaxed Swan and she was soon in another world. Sleep for Slater on the other hand was once again a long time in coming.

  CHAPTER 6

  Slater woke with the same adrenaline alertness that he always did when he sensed that there was an ominous sinister change around him. The blistering embers from the fading fire still had a soft eerie glow that gave the makeshift tent a dreamy slow motion feel, but it also gave an inch of light that was adequate for him to seek out the shadows of his statue like surroundings. At first, he thought that it was just the shift of the incessant howling wind, but vital experience taught him that it was something else. He listened. There it was again, a very faint sound of heavy breathing and soft cautious walking as though a four legged animal were vigilantly looking for the most vulnerable entrance into the frozen igloo.

  All of Slater’s electro lights went on full circuit. He carefully untangled himself from his precious bundle and crept silently to the entrance. He grabbed a piece of sharp metal as he approached the only opening of the icy tent. Inching the makeshift door open only a small wedge, he tried to evaluate the situation. As a Navy SEAL, he was supposed to always be prepared for the unexpected. He must be getting a little rusty, as he was not primed to be eyeball to eyeball with the cunning creature of the northern timber wolf!

  A half a second passed as each adversary gauged the strength and intelligence of the other. The North American Wolf was in his element, but what he didn’t know was that so was Slater. The tenseness of the situation made Slater at his most dangerous and he could be just as lethal as any wild animal.

  The warning sound of a low snarling growl and a set of razor sharp teeth inches from his nose, goaded Slater into immediate action. Suddenly, 150 pounds of muscle attacked, slamming at the entrance, snarling and snapping as though it were a battering ram! With the metal shield in one hand, Slater pushed back with 230 pounds of pure muscle of his own. It was man versus beast. Slater was not a stranger to difficult moments and physical demands. At six foot four, Slater’s daily ritual religiously begins with pumping iron, running inclines, and other physical workouts to stay in shape and ready in case his private special ops unit was called upon in a moment’s notice.

  The first attack lasted less than two minutes, but it seemed much longer as Slater dug in his heels and held his own. The aggressiveness of this lone wolf told Slater that this was a either a very determined wild animal or a very hungry one. The violent assault suddenly halted; however, soft panting gave Slater the clue that a second vicious attack was eminent. He was right.

  When the second strike finally ended and it appeared that the beast decided to find easier prey, Slater began rapidly securing the entrance with more steel and plane seats that he was able to twist and pile making it a stronger more formidable sanctuary. As a final touch, he built a fire for discouragement.

  It was then that he looked at Swan. She hadn’t said a word during the entire attack. She was obviously very frightened,
but holding it together.

  In a wobbly voice she asked, “Wh-what attacked?”

  Slater replied, “Wolf, a big one. We’re safe and secure for the moment.”

  She nodded, accepting his word as fact. “How can I help?”

  That comment brought up all kinds of possibilities. Slater was accelerated. He had been in his element. He had met his enemy and won. With his adrenaline pumping, he knew just what was needed to calm him down. He covered the small distance between them in a single step with the determination of the wild darkness within him. He roughly pulled Swan into his arms and planted a very sexual kiss on her ruby red lips. He left no doubt of what he was insisting--no demanding! Wrong move! Through his lusty haze, it finally penetrated his foggy brain that Swan was resisting him--the killer charmer. It never occurred to him that she might have other ideas. As he pulled back he realized that she was pushing and sobbing. He released his iron grip. She rolled over on her side away from him into a fetal curl. He watched her shoulder’s shaking and felt like the “heel” he was.

  “Swan?” He tried to touch her, but she would have none of him. Simultaneously, the beast outside howled as the beast within felt the same frustration.

  CHAPTER 7

  Day five began somewhat routinely as it had the previous day and the day before that with two exceptions--tension inside and out. Slater had awoken several times in the middle of the night to stroke the dying fire and check on Swan. He was in a crappy mood. He had just checked the area outside around the tin tent. Their surroundings were “poxed” with footprints as in plural.

  Slater was concerned that a pack of wolves had been scouting his domain. He was hoping for only the one rogue loner of the night, but soon discovered that he was probably dealing with a pack of five or six---maybe more. Some super male wolf harems are known to have as many as fifteen. A small group might be manageable, but a large pack signified significant danger for him and especially, Swan, if he were unable to protect her. Slater had been watching the lethal leader for some time now through the plane window. The alpha male wolf looked as though he were capable of keeping a large group in check with hardly so much as a snarl. He was solid black with cunning yellow eyes that Slater had experienced up close and personal. His shoulder height even at this distance appeared to be 36-39” with a minimum weight of 130-150lbs, probably the latter---a formidable opponent in a hand-to-hand combat.