by Molly Wens
"Well, it needs it, and your hair, too. You look like a grizzly."
He set the biscuit down, uncomfortable under her scrutiny but meeting her gaze directly. “I don't ... I'm usually alone up here. I don't usually think about my appearance."
Carissa cocked her head to one side, curiosity written on her face. “How often do you go to town?"
"Never,” he stated emphatically as he turned to finish his breakfast.
"Never?” She could not believe that he was so very withdrawn from the world.
"Nope. Never."
"But ... how do you get your supplies?” She opened a cupboard, exposing canned goods and sundry items. “How do these things get here?"
With a sigh, he set his second biscuit back on the plate. He turned to face her, spying the disbelief in her lovely eyes. “A man named Clancy comes up here twice a year with a load of goods. I write him a check that he takes back to a bank and cashes. I supplement those supplies with the meat I kill, the fish I catch, and the few things I harvest from the forest.” He watched as her eyes brightened slightly and shook his head. “As you can see, the cupboard and the pantry are full. He's already been here this fall, just a few weeks ago. He won't be back till spring."
Slightly crestfallen, Carissa continued with her questions. “How can you stand to live like this, all alone in an empty wilderness? Don't you get lonely?"
Bryce stood, uneasy with the questions and pining for when she was speaking to him. “I'd rather live alone,” was all he said before he left the room.
Undaunted, Carissa followed him, dogging his steps with more questions. “Why? Why did you decide to live up here? Are you hiding from something?"
Bryce turned on her, a warning smoldering in the gray wolf-like eyes that glared at her. “Are you always this nosey? Leave it be."
Crossing her arms as he turned away again, she let her curiosity get the better of her. “All right,” she said as she watched him pull on his trousers. “If you don't want to tell me your deep, dark secrets, I'll live with it."
"Works for me,” he said, pulling a sweatshirt over his shaggy head.
"Who's Anna?"
Carissa watched as Bryce froze while reaching for his boots. She could swear that his hair stood on end like the hackles on a dog's back. He returned slowly to an upright position, his head turning, his eyes fixing her in their hostile depths. He walked to her, each step slow and concise, the dark energy that hovered over the surface of his body crackled in the still air of the room with every movement of his frame. Carissa, like a deer caught, frozen, in the headlight beams of an on-coming vehicle, was held spellbound by the power of his mordant gaze. She stumbled back a step as his hand reached for her, slowly coming up to wrap gently around the flesh of her neck, his callused thumb softly strumming the throbbing pulse along her delicate throat.
Carissa swallowed hard, unable to take her gaze from his dark, blazing eyes, feeling the current of electricity pass from his hand to her skin. In all the years she had been married to the man, John, she had never known the fear that she felt in the presence of this man at this moment. The coldness she saw in his face seeped into her soul, freezing her mind to the point where she could not think, could barely breathe.
His voice, when he spoke, was low and menacing, causing her blood to run cold. “How do you know that name? Have you been going through my things?"
She was imprisoned as much by the grip of his smoldering gaze as she was by the burning touch of his hand on her throat. It took a moment for his quiet words to penetrate the haze of fear that had seized her brain, and another moment to swallow the lump of fright in her gullet. “N-no, I ... You-you were having a nightmare, s-s-spoke in your sleep."
The embers of hostility, still smoldering in the deep, gray depths of his eyes, dimmed slightly but his hot fingers continued to stroke ominously against the fine skin of her throat. “Stay out of my business, and never mention her name again, you hear me?"
Carissa could only nod, wishing he would not look at her with such hatred, that she could learn to keep her big mouth shut. It seemed she could breathe again when he suddenly released her and turned. Sitting on the bed without glancing in her direction, he forced his feet into fur-lined boots before standing again. He removed his shotgun from its rack above the mantle along the path he took to the cabin door. Jerking the door open and grabbing his outerwear he started to exit the building.
"Bryce...” Carissa called out tentatively only to see him snap his head around and silence her with a piercing stare just before he walked out, closing the door quietly after him.
Once he was gone, Carissa sank slowly into the rocking chair, her body quivering violently as she drew a deep and shaky breath. Skoll seemed to sense her fear, coming to lick at her face and lay his muzzle on her shoulder, offering comfort. Patting his head with a shaking hand, she tried to breathe through her trembling and regain control of her fear.
"What kind of man is your master?” she asked the massive dog. He licked her face again in answer.
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Chapter 9
Several hours later, Bryce had still not returned, and the sun had already dropped behind the tall mountain, plunging the wilderness into total darkness in the moonless night. A cold wind was howling as clouds gathered overhead, blocking the abundant stars from view. Carissa paced the main room of the cabin in the huge, thick socks that Bryce had given her. The tail of his enormous shirt danced about her knees as she moved about with Skoll nervously tagged to her heels. Terrible thoughts crowded her racing mind as the memory of his cruel anger made her shudder.
Perhaps he would never return, preferring to be anywhere but where she was, leaving behind his home and his possessions. She had no idea of how he was fixed financially, but she had to assume he had some form of income if he could afford to pay for his supplies without benefit of a job; maybe he had the means to disappear, to go anywhere he wanted. The thought that he would knowingly leave her all alone in this wintry world did not sound like him, though. For that matter, however, neither did the amount of scarcely controlled rage she had seen in his eyes. If he were capable of such fury, he would certainly be capable of abandoning her to the elements of this wild place.
Her fear of being alone, however, was nothing compared to the pure fright she had experienced when he had looked at her with such hatred. She had been terrified when he had touched her; the heat of his hand had nearly scorched her skin. The terror was compounded when she realized that if he wanted, he would only need to tighten his grip to snap her neck, or choke the life from her body.
Another shudder shook her as she stirred the soup in the pot on the stove, the soup she had made by way of an apology for having upset him, an appeasement for his anger. It was funny to her how old habits were hard to break. She had often done similar things to mollify John's wrath whenever he took umbrage to something she had done, whether real or imagined.
The hour was late, had to be late. The wind howled through the trees as if to tear them out at the roots. Carissa thought of what he had told her about the possibility of freezing to death in the mountain environment. Something might have happened to him, a fall or some other terrible accident, that had him helpless and vulnerable to the winter wind. As she stood before the one unshuttered window and watched the drifting snow that whipped about in the scant light from the lamp on the table, she began to envision the giant of a man with his huge body trapped under a fallen tree, his bearded face contorted in pain. Another scenario of her anxious mind had him falling through the snow into a crevice, such as the one she had encountered while she was lost in the forest.
Suddenly, the thought of his injury, his pain, brought a different sort of panic to her heart, the fear of losing him. It was a terrible, wrenching fear that had her hands clenched in dreadful uncertainty. She did not take time to explore this new feeling; she only knew that something had to be done.
Her decision made, Carissa began scrounging through
his bureau looking for clothing to protect herself from the harsh elements. She chose a pair of long underwear that she had to knot at the waist to hold them up and an extra pair of woolen socks. She pulled a sweatshirt over the shirt that she had been wearing as a dress. However, she still needed a pair of boots, a coat and something more on her legs. As she sat to put on the extra pair of socks, she spied the closed door near the bed. She had not looked in there yet; perhaps that was where he kept his dungarees. Tucking her shirttail into the long johns, she walked across the room, and was just reaching for the door handle when the front door of the cabin swung open, letting in a hail of freshly falling snow.
Skoll let loose a loud woof, charging forward as an immense, snow-covered form entered the cabin, blocking the wind from her as it invaded. Carissa whirled round at the intrusion, prepared to do battle if necessary. One massive gloved hand reached up, pushing back the hood that covered the head of the form revealing the dark, bearded face of Bryce.
"What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
Carissa's hand dropped from the doorknob, knowing he would be angry to find her doing what he would perceive as snooping. That concern quickly diminished, however, at seeing him in one piece, alive and well. She was tossed between throwing her arms around him in joy and slapping him for making her worry.
She chose to yell instead. “Where have you been? I was worried sick!"
Bryce turned to close the door, pushing his big body against it to shut out the freezing wind, before facing her as he set down his gun and removed his gloves.
"You didn't answer me, Carissa. What do you think you're doing?” he asked quietly as he slapped his wet gloves against his thigh. He dropped the gloves on the table under the window and reached up to open his coat, waiting for an answer.
Carissa felt suddenly shy and not a little afraid of facing him again. “I was searching for boots and a coat."
"Were you planning on escaping me in the middle of the night? Am I so abhorrent that you'd rather face death in a blizzard than stay here with me?"
Carissa saw the pain and the anger in his eyes. She felt that she had hurt him again, in some way. “Why would you say that? Have I said anything about your being ‘abhorrent'?” Then she thought about everything that had transpired over the past days and knew real shame. “Bryce, I never meant for you to believe ... when I said that I want to go home, it had nothing to do with you. I have to get home to my children."
"You don't need to lie to me, Carissa. I know what I am."
Confusion made her step forward, closer to him. She saw more pain in his gray eyes than what her misguided comments of earlier could possibly have caused. She saw the tormented soul of a man who had seen real tragedy beyond her understanding, a comprehension that made her feel more than a little selfish and guilty. She had not taken the time to worry about what her being there was doing to him; she had only been worried about her own needs.
"I know what you are too,” she said softly as she reach up to lay a hand on his thick beard. “You're a kind and caring man who went out of his way to save a stranger from certain death. You're a generous man who had to put up with a lot of shit from me."
Bryce froze under her touch, not knowing how he should respond, not knowing what to say to this bewitching creature who was reaching out to him. A game, he decided, it was a new game she played. He could not, however, make himself pull away from her gentle hand had his life depended on it.
"I don't need or want your pity, woman."
"Bryce, I'm not offering pity. I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry and I'm glad you're home safe. I was worried about you.” She wanted to throw her arms around him and feel his hard body against hers, know the safety of his embrace. The only thing that held her back was the way he had reacted earlier in the day, frightening her to the point where she thought violence would be imminent.
The contact of her palm against his face thrilled his heart, was more than he could hope for and more than he had known in so very long, but he could not tell if it were genuine. He took her small hand in his own, pulling it from his face but holding it. It was warm in his cold fingers and it was real, the willing touch of another person.
"I can appreciate your concern, Carissa. But that's no reason for you to run off, especially when it's storming out there."
"I wasn't running off!” It was Carissa's turn to be frustrated. “Skoll and I were going out to look for you. You can't imagine what thoughts have been going through my head."
He smiled coldly at her, dropping her hand as he removed his coat and hung it on the hook by the door. “Did you think I abandoned you?"
"No, you idiot! I thought you were hurt! I thought you needed help, maybe you had a tree on you or you fell into a hole. Why are you acting like this?"
"As if you give a shit!” he growled. “You're just like the rest; you can't wait to get shut of me."
Carissa was insulted and angry. Being called a liar, in her mind, was one of the worst affronts a person could use, and he had done it twice now. “Why don't you get your head out of your ass. You know, I'm not buying this “angry man” routine so knock it off. Don't you ever call me a liar again. You don't want me to care about you, fine, but don't call me a liar."
He took a menacing step closer to her, hearing Skoll whimper just before scurrying away. “I'd think after this morning you'd watch your mouth around me."
"Yeah? Well, I never was too bright in that department. I survived eight years of hell, married to the worst monster that ever walked the earth. I sure as hell can survive you."
The flashing anger in her eyes was incredible, her face, flushed and beautiful. She was a damnably provocative woman, matching his venom unflinchingly, recklessly. “I'm the worst monster that ever walked the earth, Carissa. You have no idea what I'm capable of.” The harshness of his voice belied his inner turmoil. The mask of anger he wore now was only to hide the reaction he was having to her nearness, the warm scent of her, and the light of life that burned so brightly in her eyes.
"I'm fully aware of what you're capable of doing.” Her voice softened as the hurt in his eyes increased. “You're capable of pissing me off. You're capable of acting like a Neanderthal. You also have a capacity for gentleness that most men don't. I see you very clearly, Bryce."
"No, you don't,” he rasped out as he shut his eyes.
"What is it with you? Is it the scar on your face? Is that it?” She saw him flinch but he made no other response, compelling her to charge ahead recklessly. “Is it her? Is it this Anna? Does she have something to do..."
Her voice trailed off as his eyes snapped open to reveal that rage she had seen earlier. It burned, yet left her cold as ice, clutching at her heart. Carissa wanted to retreat but forced herself to stand her ground.
"I told you to never mention her again,” he said softly. “Why would you bring her up? Are you intentionally trying to goad me?"
Carissa swallowed hard but kept her voice firm. “I'm trying to find out why the hell you hide yourself up here, away from civilization, why you hide your face behind all that hair. I'm trying to figure out why you push people away."
"Drop it,” he warned quietly. “Just let it go."
"No, I won't. Who is she?"
Bryce had heard enough, stepping forward to close the gap between them, his movements quick and fluid like that of a predator, and taking some small pleasure in seeing her cringe, if only slightly. “I said drop it! Just shut the fuck up!” his roar overwhelmed the interior of the cabin.
"Holler all you like. You don't scare me,” she retorted recklessly.
She was ready to recant those words when, in the next moment, he seized her under the arms, lifting her and pushing her hard against the wall next to the bed. For a full minute, he held her there at eye level, glaring into her face as his breath came in quick, sharp pants. Then he was on her, smashing his mouth against hers as he held her to the wall, crushing his hard frame against her, feeling her small fists pounding agains
t his shoulders.
He came up for air, pulling his fur-shrouded lips from hers, pressing their foreheads together as they both gasped in the thin mountain air.
"Put me down,” she said between gasps with more calm than she felt.
He raised his head, pulling back from her and giving her a little shake against the wall. “Don't test me, Carissa."
"You promised not to hurt me, remember? I believed you when you made that promise."
"Maybe that was your mistake,” he snarled quietly. She reminded him of a cornered badger—showing no fear and prepared to do battle. Her eyes glittered with a dark green light, and her face was flushed an angry red that all but concealed the fading bruises on her delicate skin. This woman had strength, the kind that is rare and comes from the heart. He had never wanted anyone as badly as he wanted her at this moment.
"No,” she hissed. “I didn't make a mistake because you're not the beast you try to make yourself out to be."
Her words hit home and had him lowering her slowly to the floor. He released her, not because he had believed what she said, but because she had. He could see the truth of it in her eyes as she glared unwaveringly at him, letting him see the full force of her ire.
Reaching up to stroke the side of her face with his knuckles, he fixed her with a cold stare, his breathing barely controlled. “Don't push me too far, Carissa. I've been alone up here for a long time. A small woman like you would have no choice if I decided to take what I want."
She swatted his hand back, completely unfazed. “Well, if you plan to rape me then at least do me the favor of getting rid of that nasty beard. It chafes my skin."
He blinked at her words, stunned and falling back a step at her fearless statement, and the way she continued to square off against him, daring him with the green fire of her eyes. She stood, legs and elbows akimbo, glaring at him as if he were a child that had sassed her and needed to be taken to task. He, a man three times her size and nearly a stranger as well, had threatened her with violence, and she was completely undaunted. He could not fathom what had changed since she had cowered before him the night previous, but something was definitely different in her manner.
