Black Ice

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  Jude looked ready to agree, when his eyes drifted from my face.

  And then he swore under his breath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I heard the bear before I saw it.

  Huffing and snorting, it pawed the ground only a few dozen yards away. In the moonlight, its bushy coat glistened with streaks of silver. Rising on its short, powerfully built hind legs, the grizzly sniffed the wind and angled its large head for a better look at us.

  With a guttural growl, it dropped on all fours. Holding its ears back, it warned us we'd come too close. Swinging its head side to side, it snapped its teeth aggressively.

  In my mind, I scanned every guidebook. Every paragraph, sentence, caption, bullet point, and chapter summary on bear attacks.

  "Run back to camp," Jude told me in a low, soft voice. "Put the fire between you and the bear and make a torch if you can. I'll yell and make noise to draw him away from you."

  I grappled for his hand, squeezing his fingers to keep him by my side. "No," I said in an equally low but trembling voice. Running triggers a grizzly to charge. Yelling triggers a grizzly to charge. I knew Jude was only trying to protect me, but his plan might get us both mauled or killed.

  "Britt . . . ," Jude warned.

  "We're going to do what we're supposed to do." Stand still. Don't make eye contact. I licked my dry lips. "Back away slowly. Speak in a soft, nonthreatening--"

  The grizzly charged. Woofing and snorting, it ran directly at us, muscles rippling beneath its satiny fur. My stomach cramped and my throat went dry. It was hard to gauge the bear's size in the dark, but it was definitely much larger than the wolverine, which now seemed like a harmless pet in comparison.

  "Run," Jude insisted sharply, shoving me away.

  I squeezed his fingers tighter, pressing into him. My heart pounded so hard, I could feel blood swarming my legs. The grizzly rushed violently at us, its enormous paws kicking up snow.

  With a loud bark, the grizzly made a bluff pass, but not before brushing my coat sleeve. The hairs on my scalp tingled as each bristle of fur scraped over the fabric. I shut my eyes, trying to erase the bear's bottomless black eyes.

  "Turn around and face it," I told Jude, barely audibly. Never turn your back on a bear.

  The moment we turned, it charged again, huffing and growling, eyes locked on us. This time, it stopped abruptly in front of Jude. It jerked its snout around Jude's face, picking up the scent of him. I felt Jude's body stiffen beside me. His breath came in short pants, and his face had blanched.

  The bear swung its paw, knocking Jude over. As Jude fell into the snow, I bit my lip to keep from crying out. Very slowly, I lowered myself beside him, flat on my stomach, and clasped my hands over the back of my neck. I hardly felt the snow that wormed down my collar and shoved up the wrists of my gloves. The cold was a remote worry. My mind throbbed with only one piercing thought: Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic.

  The grizzly let out another roar. Unable to stop myself from peering upward, I saw fangs flash in the moonlight. The bear's wild, silvery-brown coat rippled as it stamped impatiently.

  Protect your head, I thought at Jude, tucking my chin and hoping he mimicked the gesture.

  The grizzly's nose nudged and inspected my slightly spread arms and legs. With a single powerful swat of its massive paw, the bear rolled me over.

  "If I kick him, and run in the opposite direction to lure him away, will you run back to camp?" Jude asked softly.

  "Please do what I ask," I returned in a shaky voice. "I have a plan."

  The grizzly roared, inches from my face. Paralyzed, I lay there while its breath blasted me like a damp gust of wind. It bounded from side to side, lifting its head up at intervals, clearly agitated.

  "Your plan isn't working," Jude whispered.

  "Dear God," I murmured, so softly even Jude couldn't hear me, "just tell me what to do."

  A bear might bluff-charge several times before retreating. Hold position.

  The grizzly swung its massive body toward Jude, repeatedly crashing its front legs down in the snow, as if challenging Jude to engage. Jude lay motionless. The bear swiped its paw at Jude, further trying to intimidate him into action. Clamping its muzzle down on Jude's leg, the bear shook him, but the bite could not have been severe; Jude remained motionless and made no sound.

  And then, miraculously, either growing bored or no longer perceiving us as a threat, the bear lumbered off, disappearing into the trees.

  I raised my head cautiously, peering into the darkness where it had vanished. My whole body was shaking with fright. I wiped my hand across my cheek, realizing only now that it was wet with bear drool.

  Jude dragged me up to my knees and into his arms. He cradled my head against his chest and I could hear the throb of his rapid heartbeat. "I was so scared he was going to attack you," he said in my ear, his voice rough with emotion.

  I slumped into him, suddenly exhausted. "I know you wanted me to run to keep me safe, but if you died, Jude, if something happened to you and I was left out here alone--" I choked off, unable to finish. The weight of that dark possibility seemed to press down, crushing me. The isolation and hopelessness, the sheer odds mounted against me . . .

  "No, you were right," Jude said huskily, squeezing me tighter. "You saved my life. We're a team. We're in this together." He laughed, a short, painful sound of relief. "It's you and me, Britt."

  Back at camp, in the light of the fire, Jude rolled his jeans to his knee, revealing fresh blood.

  "You're bleeding!" I exclaimed. "You need first aid. Do we have a first aid kit?"

  He winced, reaching for his pack. "We've got moonshine and gauze. I'll be fine."

  "What if it gets infected?"

  He looked directly at me. "Then I won't be fine."

  "You need medical attention." As soon as I said it, I realized how pointless a remark it was. Where were we going to find a hospital, let alone a doctor?

  "Given the damage the bear could have inflicted, I think I got off relatively well." He splashed the last of the moonshine over the wound, washing rivulets of blood down his leg. Next he wrapped the gauze around his leg until he ran out of it. Two pins fastened the bandage in place.

  "I wish I could help," I said uselessly. "I wish there was something I could do."

  Jude tossed a log on the fire. "Distract me. Play a game with me."

  "Are you trying to get me to play Truth or Dare with you, Jude?" I said, attempting to be funny to distract him from his pain. For emphasis, I cocked a speculative eyebrow.

  He snorted his amusement. "Tell me about the warmest place you've ever been. The warmest place you can think of."

  "Reverse psychology?" I guessed.

  "Worth a try."

  I tapped my finger thoughtfully on my chin. "Arches National Park, Utah. My family spent a week there last summer. Picture this: An inescapable sun baking the dry, cracked land with vicious heat. The bluest sky you'll ever see domes a desert of red rocks that have eroded into arches, spires, and sandstone fins. They stab up from the earth like strange statues--it's like a scene out of a science fiction novel. People say the desert isn't beautiful. Those people have never been to Moab. Okay, your turn."

  "Growing up, my sister and I would dive for abalone at Van Damme State Beach in California. It's not hot like the desert, but after diving, we'd always stretch out on the gray sand with our faces turned to the sun. We'd lie there until the sun had sapped every last ounce of energy from us. Every time, we swore we wouldn't wait until we were sick with heat to pack up and go. And every time, we'd break our vow. Delirious, we'd stagger up to the parking lot and search for my car. I'd drive us to this local joint for ice cream cones. We'd sit by the air conditioner, shivering from cold and dizzy with sunstroke." He grinned at the juxtaposition.

  I tried to picture Jude with his sister, with loved ones, with a past. I had never really imagined him as a whole person before. I had only seen him as he was now, the man who had abducted me
. His story opened a new door, one that I found myself wanting to peer through. I wanted to know the other versions of Jude.

  "Do you feel warmer now?" I teased him. I wanted to press for more stories from his life, but I didn't want to sound too interested. I wasn't sure I was ready to hint that my opinion of him was shifting slowly.

  "A bit."

  "What's abalone?"

  "Edible sea snails."

  I made a face. I wasn't a seafood girl, especially not a slimy seafood girl.

  "No way," Jude told me, seeing my expression and giving a scolding wag of his head. "You don't get to be a food snob until you've tried them. If we get off this mountain, first thing I'm going to do is make you eat abalone. I'll even cook them myself--over an open fire on the beach, so you can experience abalone the authentic way." He spoke cavalierly, but his words caused me to swallow. If we got off this mountain, I would not be spending time with Jude. He had to know that. He was wanted by police. Whereas I--

  I wanted my life to go back to normal.

  "They're actually pretty difficult to harvest," Jude was saying. "The best place to look is in the deep rocks off the coast. You can try to shore-pick abalone, but we preferred breath-hold diving, which is what it sounds like--diving and holding your breath as long as you can."

  "Is it dangerous?"

  "Even if you know what you're doing, being trapped in the ocean's tide can be disorienting. The constant push and pull makes it challenging to find your footing or maintain your position. You're in constant motion, and a lot of divers find it hard to relax. Most people don't willingly subject themselves to a force far more powerful than they are. Lots of free divers get vertigo. That's when diving becomes dangerous. If you can't tell which way the shore is, or worse, which way is up, you're going to run into trouble fast. To make matters worse, there's bull kelp everywhere, and in the murky water, the flowing stalks look eerily like rippling hair. I can't tell you how many times I've thought there was a person floating to the side of me--only to jerk around and discover it was kelp undulating in the ebb and flow of the current."

  "I've only been to the ocean once, if you can believe it. Which is why I really should have picked Hawaii over backpacking in the mountains for spring break," I added with a rueful laugh.

  "Next year," he offered optimistically, his grin lighting up his whole expression.

  I studied his face, bright and open, and tried to compare this version of him, the carefree diver, with the Jude I thought I knew. Despite how we had met, despite the circumstances that had trapped us together, over the past three days, he'd protected me and respected me. My opinion of him was changing. I wanted to learn more about him. And I wanted to share myself with him.

  Without thinking, I slapped him on the thigh and said, "You know what? I do feel warmer." Immediately, I withdrew my hand and smoothed it through my hair, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. As if our boundaries hadn't changed.

  I jolted out of sleep, panting softly as I stared up at the tangled, knurly roots overhead. A bad dream. My hairline felt sticky, and I was overly warm in my layers of clothes and blankets. I sat up and tugged off my coat, sponging my face with it before setting it aside. Then I inhaled deeply over and over, trying to regain my breath.

  I rolled my head around my shoulders, attempting to come back to reality and banish any lingering memory of what it had felt like when I dreamed Jude stretched his tall, muscular body on top of mine and pushed his mouth damply against my own.

  It was a dream, I knew that. But this one made me tremble and ache.

  After several minutes, I settled back down with a sigh, but I didn't close my eyes. I was afraid to fall asleep. What if I went back to the dream? In some inexplicable way, I felt drawn to it with an urgent longing that made me feel both wildly alive and afraid.

  With a soft groan of frustration, I rolled onto my side.

  Jude's eyes were open, watching me.

  In a sleep-roughened voice he murmured, "What's wrong?"

  "Bad dream."

  Our faces were only inches apart, and as I bent my knee to shift to a more comfortable position, I accidentally grazed his leg. Electricity seemed to sear my skin.

  He rose up on his elbow and touched my arm. "You're shaking."

  "The dream felt very real," I whispered.

  In the darkness, our eyes connected. We watched each other silently. My pulse thrummed, strong and steady.

  "Tell me about it," he said quietly.

  I scooted closer, until I was on his half of the bed, sheltered under his slightly raised body. It was a daring thing to do, maybe even a bit foolish. From some far-off place, I could hear the voice of reason urging me to rethink. I didn't feel the switch, but I knew my mind had lost the fight and my body had taken over. I remembered Jude's wet, sensual kiss from my dream, and I had to know if he could elicit the same heated response in me awake.

  "It started out like this," I said in that same hushed voice. With me. Under you.

  He wiped a strand of hair off my cheek. He held his hand there a moment, debating. An unfathomable look flickered in his brown eyes, and I had no idea what he was thinking, or what his next move would be. I imagined running my hands up his muscular arms, but I lay scarcely breathing, second-guessing my boldness. I lost my nerve and made up my mind to roll back to my half of the bed, when his voice cut through the silence.

  "Britt." His face searched mine, as if he needed to know this was what I really wanted.

  I wanted this. I'd wanted it for some time. Even though it was wrong, it was the truth.

  Doing this with Jude was crazy. I knew that. But there was something about almost dying that made me desperate to feel alive--and Jude's touch was the only thing that made me feel alive right now.

  Jude cupped my cheek, his thumb delicately stroking the line of my eyebrow. "It was a bad dream?"

  I swallowed. "A scary dream."

  "Are you scared now?"

  I slid my hand behind his neck, running my fingers over his short dark hair. I pulled his head down until his mouth almost touched mine. I could feel the deep rise and fall of his chest. I hardly dared breathe myself, feeling my heartbeat drum in a hypnotic rhythm. The moment felt dreamlike, unreal.

  His voice came out hoarse. "Britt--"

  I pressed my finger to his lips. "Don't talk." The instruction was meant more for myself, because if we talked, I'd start thinking. And if I thought this through, I'd realize I was making a mistake. I liked the strange, slightly tipsy sensation of having my head strewn with clouds. With my thoughts muted, I felt heady and dangerous, capable of anything.

  Jude's lips grazed my mouth, and my body seemed to turn to water, hot and flashing and unstoppable. Jude deepened the kiss, scooping his arm under me, lifting me against him. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling his muscles clench as a great shudder rippled through him. Sliding my fingers to grip behind his shoulder blades, I held on tightly, losing myself in the sheer sensation of his kiss.

  He brushed a kiss across my ear. Another rougher kiss to my throat. I lay there, eyes shut, feeling the ground spin beneath me. He teased me with his teeth, nipping and sucking, pushing his knee between my legs to separate them. Somewhere outside myself, I could feel the heat of the campfire. The burn was insignificant next to Jude's hands skimming fire over my body as he kneaded and caressed me with the same hungry impulsiveness that I was feeling as I dug my nails in, trapping him closer.

  He dragged me up to my knees and we faced each other in the smoky darkness, pushing our mouths together, shamelessly and recklessly, until mine felt swollen and battered. I climbed onto his hips, arching against his strong hands; he held one splayed to my back while the other traced a delicate, seductive line down the length of my breastbone. He finished his invisible sketch with a kiss planted at the baseline, and I shivered with pleasure.

  I unzipped his coat and shoved it down his arms, tossing it hastily aside. With it off, I teased my fingers across his flat, taut stomach and felt
the cold metal button at the front of his jeans, and without warning, the gesture caused me to flash back to Calvin. To touching his body. His ghost stormed into my thoughts, and it was like he was right there, in the space with us.

  Jude's mouth ground against mine, but I tore away, gasping for air. I couldn't do this. I couldn't kiss Jude and think of Calvin.

  Jude's body went rigid. Immediately, I thought he'd sensed the reason for my reluctance, and I grappled for a way to explain. Cal was the first. He was the only other boy. He wasn't easy to forget.

  I listened to Jude pant, his whole body stiff as he turned his head toward the open doorway of our hideaway, listening. And that's when I knew it was something else.

  "What is it?" I whispered, clutching him, afraid.

  His mouth brushed my ear as he spoke. "I'm going to have a look around outside. Stay here."

  "Jude--What if--?" I couldn't finish the thought. My fear hung like a stone in my throat.

  "I won't be gone long," he assured me, reaching for the headlamp.

  I sat huddled in our hideaway as the minutes stretched on. I grew cold, but I didn't dare scoot closer to the fire. The fire was just outside the doorway--out there, where something in the darkness had scared Jude.

  After what felt like a very long time, I heard the crunch of his boots in the snow. He ducked through the entrance, and right away I knew something was wrong.

  "Grizzly tracks," he said soberly. "The fire must have deterred him, but I think he's stalking us."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  "We have to move camp," I said, blindly groping in the shadowy corners of our hideaway for my pack.

  Jude took my wrist, gently forcing me to stop. "Whoa. It's okay, Britt. Don't panic," he said in a soothing voice. "We need to keep the fire burning. He won't cross it to get to us, no matter how curious or hungry he is. I collected extra firewood this morning; it should be enough to keep the fire going through the night. Tomorrow morning I'll follow his tracks, figure out his position, and we'll swing wide around him on our way to Idlewilde."