3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Winter

I'm sooooo warm. Heat is surrounding me in the most delicious, consuming way. The woodsy smell invading my every intake of breath fuels a sort of comfort that I've never known. I'm drowsy beyond belief and yet, I've never felt safer.

My body feels like I've been bundled up in front of a fireplace for hours, enjoying an evening away from the bitter cold of outside. Which is odd… because I don't think I've ever experienced such a thing. I'm… am I dreaming?

Roused by my thoughts, I shift, letting out a whimper when the soreness in my arms and legs registers. Memories come flooding back as I wake up, flashing around in my mind. Dad, the knife, the ledge, the horrible water, and then… him. My hero.

My stomach pools with fuzzy warmth and my eyes flutter open, trying to adjust after being sealed firmly shut. The room around me begins to become clearer. It's mostly dark in here, but there's a small lamp in the corner of the space providing some light.

Looking down, I find myself in unfamiliar but not unwelcome clothes. A black pair of sweatpants and a pink sweater that are both a bit big but not big enough to fall right off. I smile, feeling how soft they are against my skin.

"Oh, good, you're awake," a gentle voice says. My eyes flick up and I spin around to find her. The woman from before… Nancy? I think.

"Hi," I whisper nervously.

She looks nice enough, sitting in a leather recliner while knitting something with purple fabric. The woman is older, but not elderly. Maybe forty. I'm glad to see her, but confused by her presence. Dad always said women weren't allowed here.

"How are you feeling, honey?" she asks, setting down her project. "Do you remember me?"

"Nancy?" I ask, testing the name out loud. Her bright smile in response tells me I've got it right before she does.

"Winter, isn't it?" she replies, coming closer. "I'm going to check your temperature if that's alright? How's your soreness?"

"It's alright," I agree, sitting up and opening my mouth so she can tuck her thermometer under my tongue. When the battery-powered device beeps, she removes it and I answer her second question. "I feel like my arms and legs are so heavy I can barely move them, but they don't exactly hurt."

Nancy hums, looking at the thermometer and then back to me. "They're exhausted, you may even have strained some muscles, but you haven't broken anything. Trust me, you'd be crying if you had. You have a low grade fever but nothing to be concerned about, your body is still adjusting to the change in temperature."

That doesn't sound too bad, I think to myself.

"I put you in some of my old spares," the nurse says, nodding to the clothes on me. "I made sure to do it privately as we're the only women here."

Oh, well, that's good to hear.

Shifting a little, I notice fabric I hadn't felt before. "Am I wearing panties?"

She smiles awkwardly. "Yours were soaked with sea water. I had an unused pair from ordering the wrong size. I was going to return them and never got around to it. I didn't want you to wake up without them and have you worry."

"That was nice of you," I respond, offering a genuine smile. She's clearly worried she overstepped. "I suppose I wouldn't have fit in one of your bras, huh?" Breaking up tension is easy if you're willing to joke a little, I find.

She chuckles, looking down at her much larger chest. "No, I'm afraid not."

"That's okay," I say with a grin. "This sweater is plenty thick enough to hide my small ones." My breasts are a solid B cup and I'm perfectly content with their size. I think if they were any larger with my frame, I'd have some serious back pain.

My mother was rail thin and I inherited that from her. She always said I got my butt from her grandmother, though. It's a cute butt, and I mentally thank her for it every time jeans don't glide right off my behind.

"I'm glad you're comfortable," she mentions with a soft smile. "You must be hungry, though. Are you?"

Right on cue, my stomach rumbles with a pained groan.

I flush. "A bit, it seems."

"We'll get you some warm soup to fill your stomach without upsetting it," Nancy tells me. "I have to ask… honey, how long have you been here?"

Frowning, I look down into my lap. A stray tear leaks from the corner of my eye as I tell her, "Two years."

"Oh, Winter," she mutters sadly. "Is there… is there anyone you want me to call? Was that man your real father?"

Unfortunately . Every part of me wishes I was kidnapped by a stranger and there was actually a big family waiting for me somewhere.

"I don't have anyone else," I admit, trying not to cry. But you do have someone else, my brain argues. "The man who saved me… where is he?"

"Moore?" she asks, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "He's probably in the dining hall with the rest of the men."

"This is his bed, isn't it?" I have to hold back a shudder, remembering his deep and commanding voice saying that I would stay in his room.

"It is," Nancy says awkwardly. "He has one of the bigger spaces and you didn't seem to mind the idea? I hope that's okay?"

"It's fine," I say softly. It would be more fine if I woke up surrounded by his big strong arms. Though, I suppose being bathed in his scent from sleeping in his blankets is nice too.

Excitement rolls around in my gut. "Can I go see him? To thank him, I mean."

Nancy notes my blushing face and bites her lip in contemplation. "From what I hear, you thanked him already."

If it's possible, my face gets warmer. Yes, I remember kissing the big hunk of a man who pulled me out of the horrible waters and held me in the shower while I shivered and cried. It was the most natural thing I've ever done, leaning into him and offering up my first kiss. We were both too frozen in shock for it to be wonderful, but it was great for me. I'm hoping the second time will be even more magical than the first.

"He saved me," I reason, giving her a small shrug. "I like him."

"Honey, I'm sure you feel very grateful for him, but Moore is much older than you?—"

Folding my arms and pouting, I narrow my eyes at her. "So?"

She holds up her hands in defense, trying to show she means so harm. "I'm not here to tell you what to do, honey. But… have you ever been with a man before? Your father stole you away here when you were just a girl. I don't want you to be hurt?—"

Moore wouldn't hurt me, he's my hero, I want to yell at her but I don't. She'd just think I'm even more naive than she already does.

So what if I don't know about being with a man, why can't he teach me?

"I'd like to see him now," I state firmly, straightening my shoulders.

Nancy gives a soft smile. "Okay. Here, put on these slippers and I'll show you the way."

It's a bit of a struggle to stretch my legs, but with her giving me a hand, I manage it. Shuffling slowly out of the room and into a narrow hallway, I start to fiddle with my hair, making sure it's not too much of a disaster. It feels dry from the saltwater, but it isn't full of tangles, thankfully.

I'm sure my face looks a bit worse for wear, given everything that's happened. I refuse to ask for a mirror, though. If I look like a mess, I don't want to know. I'll lose all my nerve.

Nancy walks by my side, looking like she wants to wrap an arm around me to help me take my steps. She doesn't though, possibly in an attempt not to offend me. I'm glad because I don't want her help with walking. Even if my body feels like I've been hit by a truck, I want to be strong.

The soreness is a good distraction for the fact that my father not only tried to murder me, but he successfully killed himself. And I'm… not sad about it. I don't want to think about him or the two horrid years he's locked me away on this structure. I just want to be free of him, and I guess now I am.

Maybe that makes me awful, but I can't be bothered to worry about it. There are other things on my mind. Other people .

Moore.

It's a nice name, I think. It suits him and his hard expressions. I didn't get a good long look at him while he took care of me, but I saw enough to know he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Trying to picture him from memory, I smile to myself.

His jaw looked like it was carved from stone, and his eyes were the deepest blue, so dark they could almost be black. His tanned skin looked so smooth underneath the gliding shower water. I wanted to run my fingers over every inch of him, his tattoos and scars included.

From what I can remember, Moore has a long jagged scar down the left side of his cheek bone, stopping right before his nose. Another thinner mark ran through his right eyebrow and down to the top of his cheekbone. He had countless healed scars on his hands too, decorating them like tiny white vines.

And even though his markings didn't take away from how handsome I immediately found him, a small part of me was sad for him. Not because of how he looked, but because of how every cut and injury must have felt. They must have been horribly painful. I mean, my hands and my face are some of the most sensitive parts of me.

Sighing, I shake out of my head and attempt to collect myself. The last thing I want is to make Moore think I feel any sort of pity towards him. I don't want him to pity me either.

"It's just through here," Nancy says, motioning to the unopened door in front of us. "It can get pretty rowdy at meal times, what with thirty men all crammed into one room. If it gets too loud or overwhelming, let me know and I'll get you out."

"Thank you," I say quietly. "For helping me."

"Of course, honey," she replies softly.

Nervously, I ask, "Do I look okay?"

She clicks her tongue at me but smiles. "Love, I don't think there's been a day in your life where you haven't looked okay. You're a stunning little thing, aren't you?"

I hope Moore thinks so.

Lifting my chin with renewed confidence, I follow her lead. As the door opens, we're hit with a wave of sound. Voices blending together so that no conversation can be picked apart from the bunch, it sounds like mindless chatter. I'm uninterested in the group of them, using my eyes to scour the place for who I'm looking for.

It doesn't take me long to pick him out of the crowd. Moore is the biggest of them all. His broad shoulders stand higher than everyone else's, and his frame is almost daunting. Only instead of being intimidated by his size, I'm drawn to it.

Everyone else seems to fade away around me as I rush over to him, watching as he stands up from his table and begins to walk away. He doesn't look up in time to see me, but I don't let him get away either. Reaching out, I catch his hand in mine.

Moore freezes at the contact before whipping his head around. His lips part in surprise and his whole body stiffens. Not waiting to see whether or not he's happy to see me, I leap onto him. Even though he's shocked, he catches me with ease.

"My hero," I whisper just low enough for Moore to hear before pulling him into a heated kiss.

The world and all of the horrible bits of the day seem to fade. It's just the two of us, entranced in this moment. Everything unimportant dulls and my soul lights up. Moore may not know me, and I may not know him, but I know I never want to let him go.

Wolf whistles sound around us and I ignore them, kissing my rescuer harder.