Taming Alaska (So Not Prince Charming Book 1)

by Diana Downey

  “This will put us a day ahead of Red and Loki. There are cabins over these mountains we can stay in for the night, then it’s only another ten miles to Tonakwa.”

  I climb to the top to look over it. “We’re that close?” Excitement rises in my voice.

  “Yes.” He points to a long ledge of overhanging snow. “We need to move past that, and it’s unstable. I’ll go first across the channel.”

  “Can’t we cause it to collapse before we head down to the other side?” I swallow back the fear of the countless feet of snow curled over the ridge, the wind whipping off a fine mist of crystals.

  “No. Sound doesn’t usually cause it to let loose. It’s the temperature and/or weight of the snow.”

  “Why not go down over there?”

  “The snow has covered the cliff, and we’d have to walk through several feet of snow and hope we don’t fall off it.”

  I nod and quietly follow Shane. So far the cold hasn’t leaked through my shell, but my surge of energy has long since left me. I’m running on empty.

  Shane attaches a rope to him and me. “I’ll go across. When I tug hard on the rope, then you come. Okay?”

  I nod while watching him tread cautiously beside the massive wall of snow, its lip curling over him.

  While just standing there and waiting, I try to catch my breath, but it’s hard. As I slog through the snow, my head lightens and dizziness takes over. Large plump snowflakes float in the wind and soon the wind picks up and tosses the flurries around us. I don’t feel good. My head sways back and forth, and so does the mountain.

  My eyes blink behind my sunglasses. I wish I had goggles on. Shane does.

  I lose Shane in the flurry of snow blinding me. Pain stabs my head, and I stumble to my knees. The air is squeezed from my lungs, and I topple over.

  Chapter Twenty

  Shane

  The faint sound of Cyn falling in the snow catches on the wind. I spin around to barely see her face first in the snow. I hurry back to her with one eye on the ledge of snow curled a hundred feet above me. For now, it’s holding.

  Her face is cool to the touch, and she’s out cold. The dark smudges under her eyes appear like bruises in the afternoon sky. I pull one of the heat packs out from my backpack, activate it, and place it under her shirt. I don’t know if it’s the cold or exhaustion that she has succumbed to. If it’s hypothermia, I need to get her off this mountain.

  I don’t want to lose her. I swallow down the fear suffocating me. “Don’t die on me, Princess.” I kiss her cheek.

  I turn her over so she’s no longer face down in the snow. The strain from the past few days twitches in her brows. Her shoulders tremble, shaking off the cold.

  After unbinding the snowshoes from her boots, I pull off her pack and bind it to her chest. I also bind my rifle to her, just in case we are separated. My arms wrap around her incredibly sexy body bundled up like the Michelin man. She lies limply in my grasp, causing the muscles in my shoulders to coil into hard knots.

  The wind whips off the mountain in jagged shards of cold piercing through my pants. We can’t stay here, or we’ll freeze to death.

  I cover her face with a scarf. Once I cross over the channel where the snow could bury us, I’ll drag her across. I’ve lugged a carved up caribou down this mountain before, so she should be no problem. I put on the snowshoes and trudge across. With the way the snow is falling, it’ll be much deeper soon. The bottom of my pants is soaked all the way through, chilling my calves.

  The strong gusts push me along, the snow fiercely spiraling around me. On the north side of the mountain, the temperature has plummeted. A shiver snakes its way down my back. If we’re going to survive, we need shelter soon.

  The tree line is about another hundred yards below us, and it’s another fifty or so feet across the channel where an avalanche could shoot its way down the mountain, carrying me with it. Once I reach the trees, they’ll help block the storm. I stay above them, so I can pull Cyn down. Before I even get twenty feet across, whiteout conditions blind me. With my compass in hand, I move in the general direction of the trees while crossing the channel.

  The firs soon border me on the downhill slope. The wind whips through them, swirling the snow at my feet. I can barely see the trees, so I keep my compass out. If an avalanche occurs, I’ll have to rely on my ears because I can no longer see more than a few feet ahead of me.

  My beard ices over while I trudge through the snow. I can hike for miles every day, but I’ve never done this trek at the break-neck pace we’ve kept up for the past week. If my leg muscles are sore, I cannot imagine how Cyn has held up this long.

  A large dark mass flashes in the flying snow, skulking quietly downhill from me, thankfully moving away from either of us. It makes me think of McKenna. He didn’t deserve to die, and I hope my bullet found Loki for shooting him. Right now, Red is an accomplice to two murders, and I have no idea how much prison time that means, but I do know I would commit far worse crimes to protect my family.

  As I slog through the deep drifts, killing Julian nags at me, even though I had no choice in shooting him. He’s one less hunter tracking us that I have to worry about.

  Sweat had dripped into my eyes when Julian entered my crosshairs and I squeezed the trigger. Julian had tumbled over the rock face, his head and limbs snapping off like twigs on the hard granite. Though the shot could’ve instantly killed him, the fall would’ve finished the job. He splashed into the water, the current carrying his body downstream. I cannot get the sickening images out of my mind. I’ve never had any inclination to kill anybody. It gives me great respect for Red who was a sniper and is a decorated soldier.

  What if it comes down to living or killing Red? I don’t think I could shoot him, but I sure as hell am not handing Cyn over to him.

  Every step I fight the wind, the snowshoes keeping me atop of the heavy, wet snow.

  I second-guess my decision to tackle the mountain instead of crossing through the gorge. It’s hard to judge who shot McKenna. It was a good shot, and it probably was meant for Cyn. If that’s true, then this isn’t a kidnapping but murder. With Blake out of the way, who would gain the money—her family? Her dad?

  The roar of thunder from above explodes in my ear. There’s too much wind and snow for me to see the trees, so I haul ass out of the channel. There’s plenty of rope so that Cyn shouldn’t be caught in the avalanche. Most of the firs don’t have low hanging branches for me to climb, so I kick off my snowshoes and wrap my arms around a tree, praying Cyn doesn’t get buried.

  The roar and whoosh of snow draws nearer and then slams into me. Wave after wave crashes into me before knocking me off. The flow of snow sweeps me up, and I slip, slide, and bang into tree trunks.

  The rush of snow finally slows. When it tumbles to a stop, one arm is above my head. The other arm inclines away from me. I can’t move my fingers on that one. The weight of the snow crushes me, like concrete, and squeezes the air from my lungs. I’m screwed.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Cyn

  Waves crash in my head. He took me to the beach—finally. A smile upturns my lips. That’s so thoughtful of Shane.

  No. That’s not it. Snow sparkles and dances around me. Lying on my back, I slide downward, bumping into a tree—an especially scraggly one with a jagged black scar splitting it open, like lightning struck it.

  The rope tied around my waist brings me back to the present. Shane was crossing the channel underneath that huge snow wall. He’s tugging on the line for me to follow, but…

  The crashing comes above me. Where is Shane? Snow flows underneath me, hurtling me down the mountain, crashing me into trees, dragging me into the channel.

  Avalanche.

  Panic roars through me, like a wildfire, consuming me with dread. I half think about unleashing myself from the rope, but then I’ll lose Shane.

  Whiteness blankets me, so I blow out puffs of sparkling flakes in the late day sun. I dig my heels into the snow t
o slow me, grasping branches and trunks. My heart races, my blood pounding in my skull. I keep shoving my boots into the snow to slow down. Finally my arms wrap around a sapling, so that I come to a stop.

  Snow still spills down the mountain into the cut of the mountain, like a fast moving river, bending trees and plowing over them.

  “Shane,” I cry out. The rope. I can follow the rope to him.

  The snow in the channel finally slows, leaving a deep blanket of powder that I worry I’ll sink in as I traverse across it.

  I try to sit up, but my backpack is harnessed to my chest. I fumble for its bindings—stretchy cords—bungees, so I unhook them, suddenly noticing that Shane left his rifle attached to me. Why?

  After standing up, I stare up through the snowy mist. “Shane,” I yell, shouldering the pack and the rifle.

  Pulling on the rope, I slog through the drifts. “Shane,” I yell again.

  The scraggly tree scorched by lightning leans downhill ahead of me. I keep a mental log of the trees to find my way back out of the channel.

  Don’t you dare leave me, Shane. How the hell am I supposed to find him?

  The rope tugs back. “Shane!”

  Fluffy powder settles on the slope, still curling and flowing but not at the breakneck pace that it was.

  “Shane.” I blink back tears because he’s probably buried under a ton of snow. Stupid man. I should’ve gone first, so he could dig me out.

  No sign of life moves across the white expanse. “Shane,” I scream.

  I trudge across the deep snow, yelling his name. The wind sweeps around me, digging its claws into my shoulders and pushing me back. The steel grey clouds rush across the horizon above the peaks.

  A third of the way across, I swivel around and scan below me. The exhaustion that had wiped me out is gone for the moment, but the higher I climb, the harder it is for me to breathe.

  “Shane!” It’s hard to see through the waterfall of tears. I lift my sunglasses to wipe them away and then clean the lenses.

  My gaze sweeps across the snow. Something wiggles about twenty feet out in front of me. At first, I think it’s a small animal trapped by the snow but then I realize fingers flutter, and it’s a hand.

  I run—my ankle screaming in pain—toward it, tumbling to the ground, and crawl to the hand. It’s unsheathed, red and blotchy from the cold. My gloved hands dig around his hand. I uncover his forearm. His fingers stop moving and so does my breathing.

  “Don’t die.”

  I claw at the snow until I create an air pocket for his face—a small one exists already. I free his shoulders, but a layer of ice has formed around him.

  How the hell am I supposed to perform CPR when he’s encased in snow and ice? I smack his face. “Shane!”

  His eyes blink away the snow. “You must like your men bound, so you can slap them around.”

  “Oh God, Shane.” I kiss his face all over. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I have a pick to cut away the ice in my backpack, but it’s attached to my back.”

  I grab a tree branch and hack away at the snow and ice until both of his arms are free and my gloved hands are numb. I didn’t buy waterproof gloves, but now I wish I had.

  “Cyn, I have more gloves in my backpack too.”

  “I’ll get you out. I promise.” Though I don’t know how.

  “I know you will.” His free ice-cold hand cups my face. “Keep the rifle close.”

  I drop the pack and rifle onto the ground. With the wind whipping around us, I take off my skullcap and put it on Shane’s head then pull up my hood. I dig through the top of his pack, fish through it, and pull out gloves and the compact pickax.

  My breath ices in the air. It’s so cold—poor Shane. After I passed out, he had saved me yet again. If we ever thaw out, he deserves an extra special treat tonight.

  After rubbing his exposed hand between mine, I press his fingers to my cheek then slip them into my mouth to warm them.

  He’s grinning, his cheeks reddened by the cold. “If you keep sucking on them, I’ll ejaculate and freeze my balls off, Princess.”

  Smirking, I slip a glove onto his hand. “We wouldn’t want that.”

  To my right, dark shapes shift between the trees. I chamber a round into the rifle. I’ve never shot a big gun like this—only handguns, so my nerves bunch my shoulders into hard balls.

  From out of the spray of snow, a grey wolf lunges for Shane’s head. I take aim, but what if I hit him?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Shane

  While the powerful jaws snap at my face, I hold the wolf by its jowls, mere inches from my nose. Even with the bitter cold, sweat beads on my forehead, stinging my eyes. My heart pounds in my chest while the wolf’s paws scratch my ungloved hands and its sharp teeth gleam in the fading sun. “Shoot it, Cyn. Now.”

  Her hands shake while holding the rifle. “I’m not that good a shot. I could hit you.”

  The black alpha wolf paces by the trees, its mate standing behind him in the shadows. The other beta wolf growls and pounces, stalking closer to me. I can’t fend off two of them, and being stuck in this ice cube leaves me defenseless. Terror tenses my already sore muscles and wounded shoulder, further weakening me. I can’t keep this up.

  “Dammit, Cyn,” I shout. “Shoot the damn thing.”

  Foam and spittle fling from the beast’s powerful jaws. It comes dangerously close to my face. My nose is already pretty fucked up, but I don’t want to lose it. Using all my strength, I don’t let go but twist the animal’s neck, rolling it to the ground. The other wolf seizes the opportunity lunging for my exposed arm.

  “Cyn, now’s your chance.”

  Before the fallen wolf gets to its feet and the other beta wolf attacks me, Cyn fires off a round, striking the downed wolf in its chest. Blood spurts onto the fresh snow, pooling into a crimson puddle sinking into the whiteness. The alpha wolves scatter.

  The wolf I was holding drops to the ground, gasping for air, probably from a punctured lung. It struggles against death claiming it. “Shoot it again, Cyn.”

  The other beta wolf stops and slinks several paces back, its tail tucked between its legs before it darts for the trees. My coiled muscles slowly unwind, releasing some of the tension.

  Cyn swallows and holds the rifle against her shoulder this time.

  “Don’t hold the rifle that way. Hold it by your side like a shotgun.” All we need is a dislocated shoulder from the kickback.

  Pressing her lips together, Cyn squeezes off a round. A tear spills down her cheek.

  No time for tears now. She can cry all night while I fuck her senseless as soon as she frees me.

  “Snap out of it, Cyn. Get me the hell out of here.” Damn she looks hot, the snow matting her wild hair, her sensual, kissable lips, those dark eyes aflame and lighting a fire under my ass. It’s the only thing keeping me warm.

  The shock of the cold has taken hold of my senses, reminding me of where the hell I am. I hate that I’m frozen, half-buried, and my balls are freezing as well as the rest of my body.

  She rushes over and picks at the ice. “Chill out, O’Flannery.”

  “If I were any colder, I’d be dead,” I say, my teeth chattering, just like the times Red locked me outside in subzero temperatures in my underwear for mouthing off at him.

  Once she removes some of the ice encasing me, I wiggle myself out and fall onto the snow. My pants and thermals are soaked through, the cold nicking my skin with its knives.

  Cyn curls around my body, the heat of her pumping into me. I kiss her with lips purpled by the numbing cold. “We have to get off this mountain, Princess.”

  Worry pinches her pretty face. “Can you stand?”

  “Trust me. When you shake that ass, I’ll follow.”

  “How can you joke at a time like this? We’ve almost died several times today.”

  I nuzzle my nose into her cold face. “Cause my mind’s in the gutter, and the only way to get it out is for you to
satisfy my hunger.”

  She smacks my sore arm. “Shane, don’t.”

  I tap her nose, smiling and shivering. “No tears. Save them for later. You can cry on my chest while I make you scream.”

  She crinkles those lips I plan on devouring tonight—after I unthaw.

  With her help, we hobble down the mountain past the tall firs while thick snowflakes settle on us. Being in Austin’s heat actually sounds good right about now, though that won’t last. Alaska is my home, and I need to figure out how to bring Cyn here permanently. After all she went through, it’s going to be a helluva sales pitch, though sex seems to be my bargaining chip.

  Cyn is near exhaustion, temporarily relieved from the catnap she took, but now, we’re both cold and I’m soaked to the bone. I imagine those long legs wrapped around my neck, and the scent of sex drenching us. She and I in the cabin fucking hard and rough drive me down this damn mountain.

  God, this woman dug me out of the snow, fell off a mountain, killed a wolf, and has given me a hard-on that hurts like hell.

  The cabins are only a little over a mile away from the base of the mountain. Shivering, I tug Cyn against me. She’s providing my only warmth, and I couldn’t be happier that she is here with me. My pants are now frozen, numbing my legs and making it difficult to walk. I can’t wait to get to the cabins and light a fire.

  As we plod toward the cabins, my eyes catch a dark shape lumbering across the snow about a hundred feet away. It’s a grizzly, probably mine returning to its den for hibernation. This may be my last shot to kill the bear.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Cyn

  It’s been dark for a couple hours now. The northern lights splash color across the sky in brilliant hues. They’re beautiful and steal my breath away. I can enjoy them, even though the cold has sank its teeth into me.

  Shane is much worse. His lips are purple and his body shivers uncontrollably.

  “How far away are Loki and Red?” Maybe we shouldn’t even stop but head straight to town.