Left for Wild

by Rae, Harloe

  I gulp down a retort. What can I really give in response to compete? “I’m just gonna lay down and put this disaster behind me. Tomorrow will be better.”

  He lifts an eyebrow, as if he isn’t quite convinced. “I’ll join you, if that’s all right.”

  “Yes, please do.” Now I sound desperate for his company. It’s better than further wounding his sexy ego, though. I have no problem boosting his confidence. This man should be feeling damn good about himself right now.

  “Take this.” He lifts the sleeping bag toward me.

  “What are you gonna use?”

  Halder grabs a large square pouch. The material crinkles when he unfolds it. “The tarp. That should be enough, unless we need it for wind resistance.”

  I want to argue, but this conversation has already proved to be conspiring against me. With the roll of bedding secure under my arm, I creep toward our refuge fit for two. Halder sneaks past me and settles against the rear wall.

  “You should take the front spot. It will be warmer by the fire.”

  I focus on the space that’s more lit up from the nearby flames. “I’m beginning to feel spoiled.”

  “Good.” He wraps himself in the tarp, making quite a racket. Any predator within hearing range is definitely going to avoid us tonight.

  After getting situated, I realize this doesn’t feel weird in the slightest. There’s not a single ounce of tension inside of me as I wiggle farther into my cocoon.

  “Night, Blakely.” Hearing my name in his gruff baritone makes me shiver.

  “Sweet dreams,” I mumble.

  His responding chuckle sends another rush of goosebumps across my curled form. I’m snuggled in this bulky mass of nylon goodness, but a bite of cold still wreaks havoc. After that ridiculous internal conflict, an idea from earlier occurs to me. Combined body heat would soothe this nipping chill. A stubborn streak worms through me. Suggesting that would be worse than interrogating him about this arrangement in the first place. I’m not weak, or desperate. Not yet, at least.

  If Halder is okay with just a tarp, I’m totally fine with what I’ve got. I force my eyes shut and beg for blissful oblivion to conquer me.

  Survival tip #10: Heat can chase off the most dangerous threats.

  I wake earlier than the rising sun, not that sleep ever stole my consciousness for long. Some deeply ingrained instinct kept me rousing throughout the night to scout our surroundings. A simple glance usually sufficed in settling the restless nerves jostling me alert. If that wasn’t enough, getting up to fuel the dying flames allowed some semblance of relaxation to return. But another round of prodding concern would strike the moment I would slip under into a doze.

  Darkness still swaddles our camp when I force my eyes open. Concrete soaks my lids and I struggle to pry them apart. That narrow sliver, barely more than a crack, exposes the first signs of daylight streaking across the eastern horizon in dusty pink and purple. Dawn is less than an hour away.

  A lazy inhale grants me a lungful of dull ash and shattering fantasies. Under the blanket of stars, I could pretend we were lost on purpose. Just two daredevils on the hunt for an extreme adventure. That vision is cracking with each new vibrant streak painting over the black canvas.

  The sight of dying embers jolts me alert faster than if the fire is burning my ass. My muscles holler with each movement, no matter how slight. The pain is rewarding; each ache is a badge of honor from working hard. More evidence of my labor is tracked into the dirty snow, a worn path to blindly follow. I stagger on weak knees, the stiffness dragging my boots across the ground. A flock of nocturnal birds scatter from the vicinity after noticing my presence. I’m impossible to miss at this rate. Their squawking almost disguises my grunts and stomps. There’s no chance I’m being quiet, my lumbering comparable to an ogre barreling through the serene stillness.

  A backward glance shows Blakely’s huddled form, still cradled in the arms of slumber. The knot in my chest loosens at seeing a sea of peace flowing over her delicate features. She has no cause for fear while those sweet dreams clutch her near. I can only hope that feeling remains with her once reality intrudes.

  Leering at her while she’s unaware is creepy on a level I’ve never stooped to until now. But in all fairness, I’ve caught her eyes on me numerous times when my attention was pointed elsewhere. She thought I wouldn’t notice that intensity pointed at me, but my focus rarely strays from her for long. Pulling my gaze away for more than five minutes takes an amount of control I seem to be lacking.

  Blakely is a beacon to me, with the most hypnotic siren melody. She has been since that first glance over two years ago. I’m drawn to her even more now that we’re alone in close confinement. Each kernel of intel I gather is a treasure to be hoarded.

  The gust from a gentle breeze whisks some stray hairs off her rosy cheeks. The color is similar to her frequent blushing. It’s endearing how flustered she gets. I’m almost ready to admit those blunders are because of me. And if I’m willing to take another bold leap, her fumbling is the result of some underlying interest. Does she feel a fragment of the attraction I do? How reckless would I be to cross that line? Even approaching her with that suggestion seems wrong. The mere consideration under our current conditions seems grossly inappropriate. Like I’m some horny asshole looking to score, regardless of the circumstances.

  A painful stab to my chest reminds me of her awkward behavior yesterday. That prompt is necessary with the direction my thoughts are leading. Blakely doesn’t want to be near me. At least not within the limits of her personal space. I should be more than okay with that. As someone who’s never been a fan of physical contact, maintaining my distance comes naturally. Years in prison only made that aversion more severe. The fact she would prefer sleeping on the opposite side of camp stings. It’s not too surprising that I’d enjoy nothing more than feeling her body against mine. Especially if that proximity would offer her comfort.

  I grant myself permission to watch Blakely for another moment before returning to work. Fistfuls of brittle needles and leaves sizzle against the glowing coals, sending smoke into the navy sky. Several hefty logs soon follow. Within moments, crackling flames are rising out of the pit. Bright orange and yellow illuminate the woods, welcoming the start to a new morning. I find the metal bowls and pack them with fresh snow. The solid contents already begin to melt when I place them close to the pit. My scan for another job begins immediately after. If I keep moving, the haze of our ruse will stick around a bit longer.

  Our pile of lumber is diminishing, giving me the distraction I need. The hatchet is sunk into a discarded branch. Just reaching for the tool has my shoulder wailing in warning. Once I get into the groove, that pain should subside. I’m pulled from my task by the rustling of nylon. A quick glance reveals Blakely stirring, a slight twitch of her nose followed by a low hum. Long lashes fan her cheeks with rapid flutters.

  When I turn fully to face the shelter, she’s blinking her eyes open. Those heavy-lidded baby blues narrow in on the rejuvenated fire behind me. A slow smile spreads across her lips.

  “You’re a really good guy, Halder.”

  There’s no stopping the grimace from collapsing my expression. “Most would call bullshit.”

  “Well, they’re not here.”

  “That’s very true.”

  “Forget about them, right?”

  That’s an impossible feat since the worst of them are responsible for abandoning us in the fucking wilderness. But for her, I paste a smirk on my mouth. “Sure. Are you hungry?”

  Blakely rolls onto her back, staring at the planked ceiling of our lean-to. “I suppose coffee isn’t on the menu.”

  “That wasn’t included in our bags. I can double check, though. Maybe they took pity on us.” Amusement clangs in my voice.

  “In that case, search for the keys to our escape pod.”

  “I’d laugh if I had the energy.” I scrub at the layer of stubble coating my jaw. One more thing that requires adjusting t
o. At least they let me shave in prison.

  “Did you sleep all right?”

  Lying to her isn’t a habit I want to start. I settle for vague honesty. “Decent enough.”

  She props herself up, rubbing at the creases lining her temple. “Were you cold?”

  Not while having her next to me. Thoughts of pulling her into my grasp kept me burning like a furnace through the dip in temperature. “No, I was fine. Relaxing enough to feel well rested has evaded me since being locked up.”

  “That makes sense,” she whispers. Whenever I bring up my time in the pen, she seems to slam down a solid wall between us. Does my criminal reputation, no matter how false, bother her that much?

  I grab one of the bars in my pocket and stride toward her. “You should eat.”

  She takes my offering of breakfast. “Thanks.”

  My jerky nod is all the response she gets. I’m already jumping into what comes next. Once food and water are handled, we’ll begin exploring the great unknown. There’s an entire day of potential obstacles stretching in front of us. How do I plan for that?

  Crinkling from her opening the wrapper drowns out the whirling of my mind. I wolf down my own meal, barely noticing the chalky flavor. These packs must have been in the bargain bin that no one bothers to browse through. The brick of ingredients tastes like Styrofoam.

  Blakely swipes the crumbs off her lips and shimmies out of the sleeping bag. Even decked out in ski pants and a puffy jacket, she’s a total knockout. Getting a glimpse at the curves I’m well aware linger underneath those layers is a goal for better times. She spins on her booted sole and catches me gawking. With a pop of her hip, she blasts me with a knowing grin.

  “See something you like?”

  There’s no denying my blatant perusal. A crossroads forms in my lust-addled brain regardless. I can’t avoid her question without being a total dick. Preserving her trust is priority. I part my lips only to slam them shut for several seamless loops without a single word escaping. A shove to just take the dive finally wins out. “Absolutely.”

  Real eloquent, I know.

  Her eyebrows leap under the fringe of her wool hat. “Really? I was just messing around.”

  I shrug and dip my chin. “You’re a damn stunner, Blakely. What can I say?”

  That appealing shade flushes her face. “Glad I’m not the only one losing my wits.”

  “You recover far better than me.”

  She huffs out a laugh lacking any humor. “Do you remember last night? Talk about a train wreck.”

  I press a palm against the ache spreading in my chest. “Quite clearly.”

  “My grace with you has zero limits.”

  “Just me?”

  “Well, I’m no seductress. Quite the opposite, really. But usually I can hold my own in front of a hot guy.”

  I feel my mouth curling at the corners. That simple compliment has the power to skyrocket my flimsy self-esteem. If I wasn’t wearing winter gear, she’d see the proof of my reaction. I widen my stance just in case. From her, those words are worth more than a ticket home. Well, unless she’s on the return flight with me.

  I cough to mask the husky undertones of my surging desire. “Does that mean you think I’m hot?”

  She cups her flaming cheeks. “See? Gah, someone get me a muzzle. I wasn’t planning to humiliate myself again. There’s no controlling my inner chatterbox. She doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “Nah, that’s very good to hear. Being upfront is a very attractive quality. Trust me.” She’s earned my praise, and certain parts of me are more than ready to salute her.

  Blakely shakes her head, hiding from view behind bulky gloves. “No, it’s embarrassing.”

  I stride forward until our feet are almost touching. Awkward discomfort doesn’t belong in this space. The easy flow of our interactions is one constant that alleviates my burdens. With a soft tug, I pull her wrists until she’s looking at me. “Don’t be shy with me. I guarantee you’ll hear me say plenty of blunt shit.”

  She nibbles along the plump of her bottom lip. “The last thing I should be doing is hitting on you.”

  “Why’s that?” I’m still gripping her wrists. She hasn’t pulled away. That’s a win in my book of redemption.

  “We’re stranded, for starters.”

  “But we’re together. Alone.” It’s no secret that my tone drops when I hover over that invisible line separating us.

  Her gaze latches onto mine with a burning intensity that sets a fever across my skin. Static buzzes in my ears, the freezing air zapping with electricity. Those baby blues are swirling with a mixture of emotions, the clash raging louder with each passing beat. Plumes of steam funnel from her and cascade toward me. The narrow gap between us seems to shrink with every exhale.

  There’s a tension growing that I can practically sense sliding along my tongue. I add the slightest pressure where my fingers are still gripping her arms. That bit of encouragement makes her suck in a stuttering gasp. The chord stretches taut until I sense a humming vibration.

  Each pulse is thick, suspending us in this eternal void. This could be the moment to end my torment. She’s clinging to the ledge with me. Do we leap or step back? Choosing to be bold or safe has never threatened greater consequence. Blakely’s breath hitches as I sway further into her orbit.

  A noisy grumble interrupts my internal debate. She shakes loose from my hold, slapping a palm over her torso. Our connection crumbles to the frozen ground when she drops her gaze. That sinking sensation plows into my gut soon after. There’s a wince tightening her features when she glances up at me.

  “I guess it’s not just my mouth that can’t be quiet.”

  “Shit.” I spit the curse with the most foul insult. My head got overruled by the singular-focused version.

  Her cringe deepens. “I’m really sorry for ruining the moment.”

  “Never apologize to me, especially for being hungry.” I dig out two packages of trail mix. “Eat these.”

  She holds up a hand. “I shouldn’t. We need to conserve our supply.”

  I push the snacks into her palm. “We’ll find more food. That’s why we’re scouting the area today, right?”

  “But what if we don’t find anything?”

  “That’s not the optimism I’ve come to expect from you.”

  “I don’t want to be careless.”

  It’s difficult to believe she ever could be. “We’re not in the desert. There are resources within hiking distance. It’s just a matter of finding them.”

  Blakely’s eyes flare wide. She just gapes at me for a moment. “Holy shit. I just pictured us being trapped in the freaking Sahara. We wouldn’t make it out alive.”

  I shrug. “Maybe they took pity on us after all.”

  Her expression falls flat. “Not on purpose.”

  “You’re right. We aren’t worth the extra miles and fuel. Small miracles, right?”

  “If we’re really reaching for a silver lining.”

  “That’s the spirit.” I scoop up a forgotten bowl full of water. “This is good to drink. Stay hydrated. We need to do a lot of walking.”

  I’ve been too busy letting my cock lead the show. Blakely’s needs aren’t being met. The ones of a sexual variety don’t count. At least not in the forest, when survival is critical and at risk. Once we’re more established in a better place, those selfish demands can be readdressed.

  She tips the metal to her lips, gulping the entire amount. “Thanks. I was thirsty. Those protein bars are drier than dust.”

  I pass her the second bowl. “Have some more. Then we’ll get going.”

  Her sips are slower now, but she drains the dish again. “Done. Do you need more?”

  “I had some earlier. There’s always going to be more snow.”

  Blakely squints at me. “You care about my health more than your own. But if you get sick, that’s it for me.”

  I swallow a handful of slush entirely for her benefit. “Better?”
r />   A sparkling tide flits across her baby blues. “Much.”

  “Good.” I grab the duffel bags and pack our scattered belongings. The bedding fills one to the brim while the other is half its size. After slinging both onto my back, I straighten to begin our journey.

  “What about our humble abode?” She peers over her shoulder at our shelter with what I want to believe is kindred longing.

  I glance at the neatly tied rows, courtesy of Blakely’s dedication. “We can rebuild elsewhere, or retrace our steps. It depends on what else we find.”

  “All right. It’s just…you worked so hard, chopping all that wood.” Her gaze is searing-hot on my biceps. I almost flex like a damn peacock.

  “I can split more.”

  “With a dull blade?”

  “All I need is a decent stone to sharpen the metal. No problem.”

  “Freaking Boy Scout.”

  I spread my arms to the side with a crooked smile aimed at her. “Which way?”

  Survival tip #11: Never be afraid to trust a gut instinct.

  After a cursory scan, I motion to the left. That seems like the best choice, since heading in this direction leaves the rising sun behind us. Aiming straight for that bright glare doesn’t hold much appeal. The warmth of daylight will beam down on us either way.

  From the expanding grin on Halder’s face, he agrees with my decision. A flutter motors on high-speed in my belly from having that affirmation directed at me. If he’s not careful, the endless trees surrounding us are in grave danger from his smoldering stares.

  That sexy voyager takes the lead—total shocker. Our bags are slung over his shoulders. The hatchet is held in his firm grip as he sets off to our next location. On top of everything else, he’s one helluva trailblazer. I don’t mind the view, though.

  Halder’s backside offers a plethora of drool-worthy traits. Shaggy locks of dark blond hair curl over the fold of his stocking cap. The wide span of his frame blocks my sight from whatever might be looming ahead. I almost get the feeling that he’s shielding me on purpose. Wishful thinking? Let a girl dream.