Chapter 3

The storm outside rages on, its fury unabated for days. Waking up that first time, cocooned amidst warm, naked bodies, sent panic briefly clawing at the edge of my sluggish mind. Yet, it”s as though my body instinctively acknowledges the safety these men provide, based on nothing more than a few firm words and their gentle reassurance.

The next time I wake, I am alone in the bed, but not in the room. They didn’t go far, taking up places around the room, offering watchful gazes and their reassuring presence. After they introduce themselves to me–Damon, Rayth, and Killian–they take turns checking on me, making sure I drink more juice and eat some food. They handle me with a gentleness that I don’t expect, given their imposing figures. It is a stark contrast to the brutality I experienced at the hands of my stepfather.

Eventually, they suggest I take a shower to cleanse away the lingering blood and soothe my aching bruises. I hesitate, unaccustomed to such acts of kindness, but they reassure me, promising to remain just outside the door if I need anything.

They hand me a large men’s shirt to wear, and its oversized comfort wraps around me like a protective shield. The shower is a welcome relief, the warm water washing away the physical remnants of the nightmare I endured. Alone in the small bathroom, I let the water cascade over me, each drop smoothing at the rough edges of painful memories.

Emerging from the shower, wrapped in the oversized shirt that reaches my knees, I find them waiting outside. They exchange concerned glances, their silent understanding a comfort in itself. ”Feeling a bit better?” Damon”s voice is soft as he speaks.

I nod, feeling the weight on my shoulders lighten with every passing moment. ”Thank you... for everything.”

Rayth steps forward, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. ”You”re safe here, Everly. We won”t let anyone harm you.”

Killian, though less expressive, gives a curt nod. ”Get some more sleep. You need it.”

I hesitate for a moment before speaking, ”Can you... talk to me? I mean, just until I fall asleep.”

They exchange glances, and to my surprise, Killian nods. ”Sure, we can talk.”

Settling back into the room, surrounded by the flickering light of the fire, they begin to share snippets of their lives. Damon speaks of their visits to the cabin three times a year—an escape from work they avoid elaborating on. The visit in early fall serves the same purpose, but it also involves hunting the wild game in the area.

As they speak, I feel a connection forming between us, as if the stories they share are weaving bridges between our worlds. When it”s my turn to speak, I share about my mother”s death the prior year and my aspirations to study medicine in college. About almost finishing with my pre-med program until my life took a dark turn with my stepfather”s abuse. The weight of my words hangs in the air, but their supportive silence speaks volumes.

Damon delves into his love for literature, describing how the cabin is a sanctuary where he can lose himself in books. Rayth speaks passionately about his interest in astronomy, finding solace in the vastness of the night sky during their cabin visits. They both share stories of their adventures, painting vivid pictures of their lives beyond the cabin walls.

Killian speaks less about hobbies, revealing little about his likes or dislikes. His focus seems to be on the practical aspects of survival in the wilderness, his quiet presence a testament to a different kind of strength—one rooted in actions rather than words.

They don’t tell me their ages or any specific life details, but I estimate them to be around ten years older than me. Roughly thirty to thirty two compared to my twenty two.

As their tales weave around me, I find myself drifting into a drowsy state. The flickering firelight, the rhythmic cadence of their voices, and the warmth of the cabin cocoon me in a security that is both foreign and welcome.

Yet, with sleep comes haunting dreams—nightmares that echo the horrors I faced. I wake in a panic, convinced that my stepfather has tracked me down, that the nightmare has followed me even here.

The first time it happens, I shoot up in bed, disoriented by the darkness. The storm outside continues its furious assault, the wind howling and the snow battering against the cabin walls. My eyes dart around the room, searching for any signs of danger. Damon, Rayth, and Killian are quick to react, their calming presence a shield against the rising fear.

”The storm has snowed everyone in,” Killian explains, his eyes locking onto mine. ”No one can move outside in it. It would kill anyone who tried.”

The reassurance settles over me like a warm blanket, and gradually, my racing heart slows. They stay with me until I drift back into sleep, the storm outside and the comforting murmur of their voices merging into the fabric of my dreams.

The pattern repeats itself in the following days—the nightmares, the panic, their reassurance. It feels like a cycle stretching endlessly, with the storm raging relentlessly outside. Each time I wake in terror, they are there, a steady presence in the storm, grounding me with their words. And with each time, the panic and nightmares grow less severe, their simple presence a balm to my soul.

As the days pass, my body slowly mends, and I find myself gaining strength. With each bout of wakefulness, I start to explore the cabin more. The small space becomes less daunting as familiarity settles in. The men welcome my growing independence, offering smiles of encouragement as I venture out of the confines of the bed.

As I wander through the cabin, my exploration leads me to a corner where several boxes overflow with Christmas decorations, abandoned near a bookshelf. Killian, matter-of-factly, informs me that Christmas is the following week and they always get out the boxes but never end up using them. His words strike a chord within me, stirring both shock and a profound sense of sadness. It means that my birthday, the day after Christmas, is fast approaching. It also means that I had been at my stepfather”s whims for far longer than I thought.

To distract myself, I decide to embrace the tradition my mother and I cherished. Emptying the boxes onto the floor, I immerse myself in decorating the cabin. I meticulously arrange the decorations, ensuring Christmas cheer permeates every corner. Baubles and lights adorn every available surface, while tinsel cascades like shimmering ribbons.

Killian asks what I am doing so I explain my desire to honor my mother”s festive spirit, and he quietly lends a hand when needed.

As my body gradually heals, a different sort of frustration takes root within me, intertwining with the physical scars left by my past. The once welcoming embrace of the cabin now feels constricting, its walls closing in with each passing day. Outside, the relentless storm mirrors the turmoil brewing within, its fury echoing the tempest raging within my soul. The close confines of our shared space and the repetitive routine of reassurance begin to grate on my nerves, exacerbating the simmering unrest.

Killian”s provocative words about fucking me linger in the recesses of my mind, haunting me at unexpected moments. His crude remarks made my body respond in ways I struggle to comprehend. The edginess and neediness grow with each passing day, fueled by a desire to reclaim control over my own body.

I can’t help but notice how they look at me appreciatively when they think I”m not looking. Their glances are subtle yet unmistakable. It isn”t lost on me that they find me attractive—just as I can’t deny the attraction I feel toward them. Each of them are undeniably good-looking in their own way.

Damon, with his short dark hair and intelligent hazel eyes, exudes a quiet charm. There is a depth to him that draws me in, and his thoughtful nature is reflected in the lines on his face that hint at years of contemplation. He is always making sure that I have enough to drink and eat.

Rayth, on the other hand, possesses a rugged handsomeness that speaks of the outdoors. His tousled blond hair, green eyes and strong jawline paint a picture of someone who finds solace in the untamed wilderness. His eyes hold a warmth that contrasts with the harshness of the world we live in. He occasionally whispers to me about all of the stars that he would love to show me.

Killian, with his piercing blue gaze and strong, silent demeanor, is an enigma. His shoulder length dark hair and sharp features add an air of mystery. He seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and there is an intensity about him that is both intriguing and intimidating. It is his eyes that I feel on me more often than not, and he doesn’t look away when my eyes meet his. Sometimes there would be heat in his gaze while other times he has a look that is almost analytical, like he is trying to work something out, like I am a puzzle to solve.

Their looks alone are enough to stir something within me, and the simple expressions on their faces can set my body on fire and make me ache. As my body gets better with each passing day, the frustration that simmers within me grows more pronounced. The desire for control over my own body and destiny fuels my restlessness.

One evening, after another fitful sleep, I feel the familiar frustration clawing at the edges of my consciousness. The storm outside mirrors the one that rages within me, and the cabin feels suffocating. An idea, daring and reckless, takes root in my mind.

Ignoring the warnings in my head, I head for the bathroom again. This time, a different kind of determination fuels my actions. As I turn on the shower, I leave the door wide open, intentionally providing a view of my very naked body. They haven’t seen it since that very first day and the care and sustenance could already be seen in my healing skin and the extra meat on my bones.

The warm water cascades over me, and I can’t help but feel a strange sense of empowerment in my actions. It is a risky game I am playing, and I know they can see me clearly from the common area.

Sure enough, Killian”s voice cuts through the sound of the shower. ”Everly, you”re playing with fire.”

His words, spoken with a rough edge, stirs something within me. I turn to face him, opening the shower door, the warmth of the water still raining down my naked skin. ”What if I want to, Killian?”

He steps closer, his gaze locking onto mine. ”We”re three hot-blooded men, and you”re a beautiful angel. Don”t tempt the devils in us to corrupt you.”

A smile tugs at my lips as I meet his gaze head-on. ”Maybe I want to be corrupted. Maybe I want to feel again.”

Damon”s voice joins the conversation, a note of caution in his words as he and Rayth step up behind Killian. ”Everly, we”re not gentle men. We can’t be gentle men. And we certainly don’t fuck like gentle men. We have our own demons.”

The edginess within me intensifies as I face them with unyielding determination. ”I don”t care. I just want to feel whole again. I want to feel like I have control over myself and my destiny. I want to fuck whoever I want to fuck. And right now, that”s not gentle men.”