Chapter Eight

A Night in the Grotto

“You need a break,” Mallory declared.

Lance exhaled, sending a plume of condensation from his mouth, and resisted the sudden compulsion to turn and look at her. It wasn’t the first time she was asked that they stop and rest, and although he knew it wasn’t without reason, he refused to listen. They continued through the snow, bypassing several rock formations that jutted above the surface as the sky turned grey above their heads.

His next step sent a jolt of pain shooting from his foot all the way to his hip. Lance suppressed a grunt and looked around. Jumping over the edge of the cliff had seemed like an excellent idea at the time, but now he couldn’t help wondering what on earth had driven him to consider such a foolish course of action.

Boris’ words floated through his consciousness.

Step aside. Leave her for me.

Such a simple request. Lance had survived this long by minding his business and avoiding trouble whenever he reasonably could. He’d had the chance to do as Boris asked, step aside and let the Fae Hunter do as he pleased and return to his home. He’d had the chance, even before then, to leave this fae woman next to him buried in the avalanche.

At every turn, the opportunity to choose himself first, to save his own skin, had presented itself to him, but what had he done? Each time, he’d done the opposite. He’d pulled her out of the snow. He’d given her his coat. He’d guided her through the woods. He’d even fought Boris the Fae Hunter, something no one had done and lived to tell about.

And then what? He’d thrown himself off the edge of a cliff.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was already smitten with this woman.

The thought made him scoff. That was impossible. This woman was fae.

So was Julia, he thought.

But this was different, wasn’t it? He couldn’t be smitten with her because he’d learned from his past how risky that could be. He’d learned from his mistake.

So why had he done all that he had?

He stumbled suddenly, taking a moment to regain his balance, and Mallory’s arm shot out as if to steady him. “We need to stop, Lance.”

This time, he scoffed, and then he winced as he took another step. “For all we know, Boris has made it off the cliff and is after us. We should keep moving.”

“It’s been close to an hour since we jumped. We can’t keep moving, not in your condition. You’re injured. If you don’t get some rest soon, you’ll only get worse.”

He sighed again, casting a sideways glance at her. With his coat wrapped around her small body and her pink bag still at her waist, she looked cute, but Lance’s focus soon shifted from those details to her face. Her red hair swept partly across her face; her coal-black eyes gazed back at him. Lance briefly wondered what those eyes would look like in firelight. The thought sent a shiver through his body.

Her lips parted with a slight tremble, and it occurred to him to put his own lips against them. Before the thought could take root inside his mind, Lance tossed it aside. Right now, he had one mission, one duty: get away from Boris, no matter what.

Get Mallory to safety.

He’d already signed his death warrant when he turned down Boris’s offer. The next time the Fae Hunter laid eyes on him, he would not give him another chance. Lance had to be prepared. His heart thumped in his chest. He’d barely survived the last attack. What would happen when they met Boris the next time?

“We’ve already gone off course. We need to focus on finding higher ground. Jumping off that cliff means it will take at least a couple of days for us to get back on track, and that’s assuming Boris doesn’t get to us again.”

“If you’re not in good condition, you won’t be able to move at all.” He locked gazes with her just in time to see her eyes flicker with annoyance. “You need the rest.”

Something in her tone told him that arguing with her would be futile

“There.” Mallory said, pointing at a spot, “We can hide there for the night.”

He followed her finger. Thirty feet away, rising out of the snow, was a large rock. Lance frowned. It wasn’t just a rock. There was an opening on one side. A cave.

Before he could protest, Mallory said, “You need to lie down. I’ll tend to whatever wounds I can. Time will mend the rest.”

“I—”

“You won’t be the first shifter I’ve treated,” she said, cutting him short. “I’ve been tending to our kind for years. Now, let’s go and get you patched up.”

***

It was warmer inside the cave, albeit darker. A consolation to the fact that they’d been knocked off course and would be spending more time out here on the mountain before reaching his cabin. Lance thought it was adequate, at least for now.

“Lie back, please,” Mallory said, although it sounded more like a command than a request. “I need to examine you.”

He could just barely make out her face. He wondered if she could see the look on his.

He lay flat on the hard, bumpy cave floor, flinching as her fingers touched him. She went to work immediately, and he heard a clink as she withdrew something from her bag.

“I’ve got some antiseptic and bandages,” she told him. Then, as if she’d realized he didn’t know what she was talking about, she added, “I’m going to need to clean your injuries before I dress them.”

He was more badly hurt than he’d let on to Mallory and himself, Lance realized, wincing as she tended to him. Between the fight with Boris and the jump, he’d sustained more than enough injuries to kill a weaker man.

Lance felt weak.

Had he been correct about them having all the time they needed? Lance didn’t feel that way anymore. Ever since their interaction with Boris, it seemed like something had begun ticking inside his mind, a reminder that if they didn’t get clear of the Fae Hunter soon, he’d find them and spill their blood onto the snow.

“Sorry,” Mallory said as he winced again.

He lay still, waiting as patiently as he could as she dabbed the cuts Boris had inflicted on him with antiseptic. When she touched his chest, he bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out. Some of the cuts were deeper than he’d thought. Even for a shifter, they would take a while to heal. Mallory was right: Rest was needed.

But even though he commanded his body to relax as she treated him, his mind would not rest. It continued to race with thoughts and possibilities of what could happen to them any second. And so, left with few other options, he decided to distract himself.

“You said you’ve tended to other shifters in the past,” he said, the memory of her words drifting through his mind. “You are a healer?”

She paused, and he figured she was pondering his question. A moment passed between them.

“Something like that,” she replied finally. “I’m a nurse. Or at least, I was a nurse until I agreed to take a sabbatical and ended up here.”

He thought he detected a note of bitterness in her tone and let another moment pass. “As a…as a nurse, you helped people?”

“It’s kind of the job description. I’m trained to treat people. Well, humans. But now and then, I bump into some other supernatural. I’ve had this job for at least ten years.”

With every new thing he learned about Mallory, he discovered a new dimension. One, life in her world had not been as easy for her as he first thought. Just because she would have a hard time surviving on Frost Mountain on her own doesn’t mean she hadn’t struggled elsewhere.

Two, this woman wasn’t as helpless as he’d figured. She might not be able to defend herself when the need arose, but she seemed quite resourceful.

Her fingers trailed lower, and he felt his body grow tense. Her touch was gentle. Nearly everything about this woman was. Lance had held her in his arms earlier. She’d been soft against him. He wondered if she would let him hold her again. Maybe if they found another cliff…

The image of her body pressed against his, both of them completely naked, flashed through his mind. He’d never seen her without clothes, but his imagination needed only the smallest details to go wild, drawing up a scene in which this stunning woman sat atop him with her gentle fingers splayed across his chest and her wings fluttering behind her as she rode him to ecstasy.

He cleared his throat, dismissing the thought. “You must have been working a lot.”

“Whenever I could.”

“How did your husband take it?”

An uncomfortable silence filled the cave, sliced only by a tiny croak. “Hus…band?”

“Did you not have one?”

It was almost impossible to read her expression now. “No. I’ve never been married. I’ve…I’ve been single for quite a while, actually.”

“Oh.” Relief swept through Lance’s body. And then it was quickly replaced with embarrassment at the fact that he felt relieved. “I see.”

“What about you?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught Lance off-guard. When he decided to make conversation, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might throw him a question.

What about you? Her words circled through his mind. A single image rose in his memory: Blue eyes. Blonde hair. A pair of wings that glowed in firelight.

He shook his head. “I’ve…never been married, either. I have no one.”

It was the truth, but it dawned on him then that his hesitation might seem to her that he was hiding something. She regarded him silently for a moment before responding.

“Okay.” Her hand drifted lower. “I guess—oh!”

She had just touched him below the waist. Lance felt his gut clench. A jolt of emotion he didn’t recognize coursed through his veins, and he sat bolt upright, his hand flying to his crotch.

He was rock-hard and pulsating.

“I—I’m sorry,” Mallory stuttered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m sorry,” he countered, wondering if she could sense his embarrassment.

More awkward silence passed between them. Lance was grateful when it was interrupted by the distant howling of the wind.

“I’ll bandage your injuries now,” she said, clearing her throat. “And maybe you can get some rest. We’ll tend to the rest of your wounds in the morning, so I….” She trailed off.

So I don’t accidentally touch you again, she’d been about to say.

Lance bit his lip, torn between embarrassment and the desire that had awakened in him.

It was just as well because if her hand strayed to his crotch again, Lance didn’t think he would be able to contain his arousal. Even now, his mind was bombarded with thoughts of taking off her coat and the bra she had on underneath, baring her nipples.

Lance cleared his throat again.

A shiver coursed through his body as she touched him again, wrapping the bandages around his torso, over the slashes Boris had given him.

As she dressed his wounds, Lance found his mind had fallen back into its pattern of restlessness, ruminating over his interaction with the Fae Hunter. He wondered if Boris had sustained injuries, too, if the man was holed up somewhere, patching himself up.

Perhaps. Perhaps he was making his way toward them. The thought of the Fae Hunter struck Lance as a bit strange now. For a long time, Boris had been little more than a myth, an embodiment of fear and death. Having faced him and barely survived, he was more aware than ever of the danger the man posed.

Yet there was another part of him that couldn’t see Boris as more than just that—a man. Lance had fought him and gotten away. Both men had struggled. Boris was mortal like he was. He might be powerful, dangerous, even terrifying, but if Lance could face him once, perhaps he could do it again.

Would he survive their next encounter? He needed to make sure they didn’t cross paths again. Still, the thought rankled him.

He forced it aside, and it was immediately replaced with another less troubling thought as he sat and let Mallory wrap the soft bandages around his body. Mallory was taking care of him. From someone whom he’d spent the last few days trying to protect, this was the last thing he’d expected.

Perhaps it was because help was the last thing he’d expected from any fae. Julia hadn’t helped him. All she’d done was bring him trouble.