14. Chapter 14

What the fuck am I doing? I’m wearing nothing but the sexy lingerie as I shove my feet into snow boots and toss my jacket on, zipping it. The moment Kane said the serial killer could be inside the house, I knew that any possibility of changing back into my clothes went right out the window. I need to get the fuck out of here. Fast! That’s not my only reason for skipping the clothing change, though, and I know it. I’m not sure what’s come over me, but all I can think about is sleeping with Kane. It’s crazy the way I could be in actual danger, and yet all I can think about is seducing the sexy caretaker-turned-knight-in-shining-armor on his way to rescue me from a killer. I hope he finds this ridiculous outfit irresistible. My eyes glaze over as I imagine what it might feel like for his full and sensual lips to kiss me, dragging across my skin, igniting my senses.

I shiver, snapping out of it and cross the room to the back door. It takes me another few minutes to talk myself into opening it because once again, I’ve trapped myself in a fantasy with Kane. My sweaty fingers grip the door handle as I stand frozen in fight-or-flight mode. Inside my chest, my heart is racing. It beats so loudly it’s the only thing I can hear as my senses zero in on the hypnotic rhythm. Outside, the snow is falling so hard there’s a fresh dusting on the deer. Finally, I work up the courage to unlock the door, and I step outside to get a better look at the animal. Slowly, while keeping a close eye on my surroundings, I inch my way closer, body shaking. It’s not moving at all, and the closer I get, the more I notice the snow is tinted pink. I clasp my hands over my mouth and feel my stomach wretch. It’s pink because of the blood mixed in the snow. It’s hard, but I force myself to keep going. As I inch closer to the area where the animal rests, injured, the bloody spots get darker. Eventually, once I reach the far side of the deck, I realize the poor beautiful creature was impaled with a giant icicle. Maybe it’s not a serial killer and the poor thing genuinely ran into the door, causing an icicle to fall and then, boom, death.

I’ve nearly convinced myself that is exactly what happened, and it’s merely an accident, but then I spot words. Bright red, scrolling words. There’s a trail of bloody footprints and someone has used the animal’s blood to write a message in the snow.

Shit! It is the serial killer. Stay calm. I tell myself, but it’s too late. I’m already panicking.

I look toward the cabin, then to the shoreline of the lake. Trust me, Kane said. I take a deep breath, walking toward the bloody writing despite every instinct in my body screaming at me not to. It reads:

Run, little Jane Doe. Don’t look back.

I start to yelp, then clamp my mouth closed. Breathing heavily into my hands. I’m most definitely having a panic attack. Jane Doe? Didn’t the sheriff call me that? I want to scream for Kane, to stand here and wait for him to appear to whisk me away—or better yet, I want to wake up and realize all of it, even the part about Tyler cheating, is all a damn dream. That’s it. This must be a dream. There’s no way stuff like this happens in real life. Except I know far too well that stuff like this definitely happens in real life.

My fingers are freezing cold. I didn’t bring gloves and I’m not going back now. I blow on them as I stumble through the accumulated snow, working my way over to examine the writing. There’s no avoiding it. I have to walk past the writing to get to the stairs and now that I’m standing right in front of it, my feet are frozen, unwilling to move. The crimson color stains the glistening white snow and I can feel my stomach threatening to regurgitate the cookies I just ate. In the distance, I can hear what sounds like a motor. It’s probably Kane—at least I hope it’s him—barreling to rescue me. When I stop to think about it, this is exactly what I asked for—albeit, a much darker holiday romance than I was hoping for. I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut, mentally pushing myself to walk past all the blood and down the stairs.

Once my feet hit the bottom of the steps, I turn and take off, running in the direction of the shoreline. The snow is freezing cold as it encircles my legs, creeping up far higher than my boots cover. Against my skin, the cold stings. The snow is deep and though I’m trying to move through it quickly. I know I must look ridiculous in my attempt to run but the snow is so heavy, I nearly topple over into it head-first from my frantic momentum.

If I don’t pick up the pace—and Kane doesn’t arrive soon—frostbite will surely begin to set in. My legs are already numb from the wind and beneath my jacket, I’m shivering. I should have put more clothes on. It was stupid not to, but I can’t help the tingle that runs through my core as I think about Kane’s reaction to seeing me in this ridiculous lingerie, while secretly hoping it sends him into some sex-crazed reaction.

I trudge through the snow as quickly as I can. It’s been a solid fifteen minutes since I left the warmth of the house to venture out in my lingerie during an active blizzard. I must be delusional because I feel completely unaffected. My brain is swirling with thoughts of one thing and one thing only, and I’ve honestly never been so obsessed with an idea like this. The loud rumble of the engine closing in on me snaps me from my sinful thoughts. I scan the white blowing snow, looking for signs of him and spot headlights not far from me. Thank fuck. I can’t feel my fingers and I’m exhausted from moving through the deep snow, battling the wind, and fighting off thoughts of a serial killer murdering me just like the deer. A small voice dares to question my rationale, urging me to consider if I am truly running to safety or into the arms of danger. How do I know Kane isn’t the serial killer?

No. Kane can’t be a serial killer. This must be death settling into my bones and making my mind delusional. Kane is far too sweet to be a killer. At least I think he is, but then again, how much do I actually know about him?

All around me, the world spins to the point it feels like I’m in the middle of a winter-themed club. The whirling snow pulses to the beat of my heart, and I’m so… alive. Is this what freezing to death feels like? I wonder, collapsing into the snow and not realizing it until a pair of thick gloved hands pick me up.

I blink my eyes. “Kane?” I ask in a whisper.

The man who picks me up is wearing a ski mask and goggles. He pulls me into him and all I can feel is the sensation that I’m pressed against him. My body is completely numb.

“Hazel,” I can hear him saying. “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”

I try to answer, but my teeth are chattering. He presses a gloved finger to my lips.

“Shh. Don’t talk. We need to get you warmed up.” He carries me over to where he left the ATV running when he jumped off it.

He loads us both on, positioning me so my legs straddle over him. He takes off my jacket gently and I try to stop him.

“You need to be warmer. Let me help you.” He reaches around us, covering my legs with the jacket, then zips me into him. His chest feels bare beneath his jacket. When my cold body lands against him, Kane flinches.

The next thing I know, he’s kissing me, mumbling about how he’s so glad I am safe. To my surprise, I kiss him back. His lips are soft and inviting as his tongue slips inside my mouth. I’ve never been so turned on before. This man wants me and I think I want to know what that feels like. I’m more than along for the ride, enjoying the way he controls our kiss. Until he breaks it.

“Hold on to me.” He growls. It’s the only warning I get before he shifts into gear and takes off.

I close my eyes, clinging to Kane. My head still feels woozy, but feeling is returning to parts of my body. As soon as I can feel my boobs again, I realize as my body slides against his that he’s wearing a thermal shirt. Which also explains why he felt so warm when I fell against him.

My hard nipples press against him and I swear I hear his breath catch, but that would be impossible over the roar of the engine and the whistling wind. There’s no time to think about it. The machine grinds to a halt rather suddenly, and then he’s lifting me. Kane’s carrying me somewhere. At least I think it’s Kane. I look up, daring to peek one eye open and scream.

A man in a ski mask stares back at me. He winks, and I’m not sure what to make of it.

“K…K…K. Kane, is that you?” I whisper through chattering teeth.

But he doesn’t reply.