Chapter 5

A jarring ringtone slices through the silence, jolting me awake. My pulse races as I realize I’m nestled against Gideon, his hand cupping my breast and the other wrapped around my waist. Desire flares but gets immediately doused when the phone rings again.

Gideon stirs, his body tensing. He reaches over me to grab his phone from the nightstand. His eyebrows furrow when sees the caller ID.

“Hello?” His rough, sleep-laden voice sharpens as he listens. The deep timbre sends a thrill through me.

“Calm down, Mrs. Harris. Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, stifling a yawn.

I see that I did hog the entire blanket and shift to move away, but Gideon clicks his tongue in denial and pulls me flush against him. I feel his morning wood poking my ass and instinctively rub against it. I stifle a laugh into his arm as his breath catches.

“How is he doing now?” Gideon asks Mrs. Harris, who I pray doesn’t hear the simmering lust in his voice. Especially not the moan I can’t contain when Gideon begins teasing me back by rubbing his thumb against my clit.

“I’ll be right there,” saying that, Gideon hangs up, and slips his finger into my throbbing pussy. He adds another finger and begins to pump them in and out of me at a leisurely pace.

“Did you sleep well?” his question gets lost in the kisses he trails from my neck to shoulders.

He expects me to put words together in a sentence when he is fingering me? I laugh at the absurdity of it which quickly turns into a moan when his fingers curl inside me.

His phone rings again, breaking the smell. Reluctantly, Gideon withdraws his hand but kisses loudly on my cheek to soothe the sting.

He sits up and stretches like a panther, muscles clenching in his ripped body. Turning to look at me, he licks his fingers one by one. My insides melt at the fire of his gaze. “Mm, dessert in the morning. It’s going to be a good day.”

I swat at him jokingly and pull up the blanket over my bare body. Gideon chuckles in response and swings his legs out of bed.

“Mrs. Harris’ car won’t start and she needs to take Billy to the vet. I need to go help her,” He informs me, pulling on his jeans, the denim sliding over his strong thighs with a soft rustle.

I sit up, inhaling his woodsy scent on the blanket. Gideon opens the curtains and the glittering sunlight reflects in his emerald eyes. His brown curls gleam like molten chocolate, and shadows define his abs. Thick veins run through his muscular arms, more pronounced around his wrist where he is putting on a black-dial watch.

Chocolate has always been my favorite, but looking at a shirtless Gideon, I realize it no longer holds first place. Last night’s memory of tasting his abs sneaks into my mind, and I lick my bottom lip.

“Ariel, you do that once more and I’ll put that tongue to good use,” he vows with a predatory look.

I shiver at his delicious threat, suddenly desperate to know what he tastes like.

“Then why don’t you?” I ask as I pull my lower lip with my teeth and wiggle my eyebrows.

He groans and mutters something that sounds like “You’re killing me” under his breath. He walks towards me with a lethal grace, leans down and grabs my chin, and pulls me into a scorching hot kiss.

His lips move against me, his tongue darting to lick them. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, biting firmly, and I melt into his embrace. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb caressing my soft skin. He breaks the kiss and rests his head against my forehead.

Gideon shakes his head, “For the kind of trouble Billy gets into, its good he has nine lives.”

I mockingly pat Gideon on his shoulder, showing my pity, and he nods sadly before moving away. I look out the window and see that a calm and serene morning has replaced the stormy night. Birds chirp, perched on a branch next to the cabin.

Gideon’s expression turns serious. “Once I’m back, I’ll make you blueberry pancakes. And after that, we’ll go meet Liam.”

The dismissive attitude of the last man in uniform I spoke to surfaces in my mind.

“He’s a good man, someone I trust with my life. He will believe you. And I’ll be right there by your side,” he assures me, running his knuckle over my cheek.

I only nod in response, lost in his touch.

Gideon pulls a thick plaid shirt, the fabric rustling softly as he buttons it up and grabs his keys. He turns to leave but I grip his wrist. “Be safe,” I try to sound casual but can’t help the worry that creeps into my voice. The memory of that horrific nightmare still clings to me, making me reluctant to see him go, even for a little while.

He studies my face intently and then presses a quick kiss to my forehead, “I always am.” He lingers at my temple, slowly tilts my chin with his finger, and gives me a soft kiss.

His phone rings again, shattering the spell. He pulls back with a frustrated groan and I smile at his exasperation. “Why did the storm have to end?” he jokes, and his eyes light up at my laughter.

“My number is on the counter. Call me if you need anything,” he orders me sternly. I put my hands up in surrender.

“Don’t worry. It will all be over soon,” he says, and with one last lingering look, he walks out of the room. He calls out once more before I hear the front door close behind him.

His words linger, a punch to the gut. Does he mean everything between us too? The thought makes my heart ache. With Gideon gone, the room feels colder. I pull the covers up, inhaling the last traces of his scent.

I get up slowly, feeling sluggish. Outside, the world is fresh and calm after the storm, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me. The thought of losing Gideon, of everything between us coming to an end, fills me with a deep sorrow.

I walk into the empty living room. The silence amplifies old memories of baking pies with Grandma. After her death, watching Grandpa fade away was heart-wrenching. I miss them so much every day, but I feel closer to them staying here. Their essence still lingers in the corners of this home.

Seeing the flour jar on the counter, I decide to bake Grandma’s favorite baguette. I gather the ingredients, preheat the oven, and knead the dough, its cool softness soothing me. The scent of yeast fills the air as I sip coffee by the front door. Tiny snowflakes still fall gently to the ground, leaving it covered in a delicate coat of ice.

I think back to the summer picnics by the lake, filled with sandwiches and stories. My heart heavy with memories, I decide to visit the lake again.

I tuck the freshly baked bread in a box, leaving a note for Gideon, then bundle up in his hoodie and shoes. After locking up with the spare key, I step outside.

The earthy scent of damp soil mingled with the crisp, clean air fills my lungs. I find the trail to the lake through the woods. Each leaf sparkles in the sunlight like tiny emeralds.

The ground is slick, frozen mud and twisted roots forcing me to limp cautiously. My wounded leg throbs, but I press on, half-limping my way around the gnarled roots.

The lake, locally known as the ‘mirror of the mountain,’ stretches before me, its icy surface cracked and bubbled. The ice, clear in places, shows glimpses of the dark water beneath it.

I look around and find it easily—spot the square rock jutting into the lake. Walking to its far edge, I lean down and spot the initials “AK” I carved long ago.

In the solitude of the moment, my mind wanders to Gideon. Memories of last night with him warm my cheeks despite the cold. The thought of leaving him twists my heart. I pull out my phone, relieved to see a signal.

I call Sam, but when it goes unanswered, I leave a voicemail.

“Sammy, it’s me,” I say, my voice shaky. “No signal out here, or I’d have called sooner. It’s been crazy.”

I tell her about Gideon. “I broke into his house, and instead of kicking me out, he took care of me—in more ways than one.” I chuckle, shaping snow into a ball, my fingers numb.

“You always say I don’t take risks, but I did,” I murmur. “It’s crazy, we barely know each other, but it feels so right with him.” I squeeze the snowball, the cold biting into my skin. My words seem to hang in the crisp air, echoing in the quiet mountains.

“But babe, I’m scared. What if he doesn’t see it the way I do? I’m terrified to ask him but I need to know if it’s real for him too.”

A rustle behind me snaps my attention. My heart pounds as I scan the trees. It could be just a squirrel, I try to convince myself, but a heavy knot of dread settles in my gut.

I remember the ongoing voicemail and quickly finish it. “Anyway, I could use some of your famous wisdom, so call me. Love ya, babe.”

I end the call and slip my phone into my pocket. I rub the back of my neck, feeling a strange prickling on my skin. The cold bites at my skin, stinging my eyes. I close them, drawing in a deep breath, trying to steady the storm swirling inside me.

A deep, angry voice slices through the silence. “So, is he the chosen one now, Ariel?”

Slowly, I turn and see a man standing a few feet away, eyes blazing with fury. I feel numb as I climb off the rock, only one thought looping through my mind—how did he find me?

Then it hits me. The barista from the new cafe around the corner from my apartment. This unhinged man with disheveled hair, shadows under his eyes, and a scruffy beard is a far cry from the friendly man who had smiled warmly at me from behind the counter.

“What about me, huh? You said I was the chosen one!” he shouts, his voice echoing in the stillness.

The accusation hits me like ice shards, and I flinch. My mind races, trying to piece together how a simple encounter over a latte could’ve led to this.

I force myself to speak through the lump in my throat. “Listen, whatever you think I said, I’m sure we can talk it out and clear the misunderstanding,” I keep my voice soft and calm, trying to placate him.

“There is no misunderstanding!” he snaps, his face twisting with confusion. “I know you chose me, but I don’t understand why you ran away.”

The wild look in his eyes, the clenched jaw, and his fists trembling with rage freeze me to the spot.

“I’m giving you one chance to explain,” he growls, stepping closer.

Panic surges, and my voice barely breaks through the fear. “I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.”

His anger churns like a storm, but a fleeting doubt flickers in his eyes. “No! I know you love me. It’s not just in my head, not again!”

“You came up to me at the cafe, radiant in that white dress,” he says, his gaze distant. Keeping my eye focused on him, I slide my frozen feet back one inch at a time, trying to keep my movement invisible.

“You smiled, and I knew. I was so nervous, trying to muster the courage to ask you out while you finished your doughnut. The frosting on your lips…” His eyes fixate on mine with a lecherous intensity, making me shiver.

“I tried, but I couldn’t speak. Watching you walk away broke my heart,” he continues, his voice thick with frustration. “Then, a miracle. You paused, taken by the mountain picture on the wall. When I told you I took it, you smiled and called me the chosen one.”

His eyes narrow as he accuses, “You saw the emotion behind my pictures. You chose me. And now you have the audacity to say you didn’t mean it? I thought we had something special. I had plans—dreams.”

The sun catches his eyes, revealing the fury and madness boiling in its depth. The framed photograph on the brick wall of the cafe flashes in my mind. It had reminded me of Haven Valley and this very lake.

My hands shake as I try to stay calm. “Please, listen. If I said you’re the chosen one, I meant it about your photography. It’s a precious gift, isn’t it?”

He nods hesitantly, so I press on. “I was praising your skills, not us. I’m sorry if I led you on.”

“Shut up! I courted you, sent roses, followed you like a dog to take your picture, showing my love through your medium. And you? You run, leaving me with a ring and fuck a man you just met!”

My mind scrambles with the need to escape. The path behind me is blocked by the rock, and dense forest flanks us on both sides. I need to get to the cabin and call Gideon.

Despite the fear gripping me, I snap at the thought of him tainting my home with his sickness, “All you did was scare me to death! I never professed any love to you. I don’t even know your name!”

His face ignites with a dangerous rage. All sanity flies out of his eyes and he turns feral, “How dare you!” His voice crashes like thunder in the forest silence.

“I’m Rick! I spent days and weeks after you. My mind was ruled by the need to make you mine. And you will be mine, no matter what I have to do.” His gaze, twisted with revolting lust, feels like a slimy touch, making me shudder.

“You want to play hard to get, huh? Fine. I didn’t want it to come to this, but bitches have to be taught the hard way not to toy with a man’s heart.” Saying that, he pulls a knife out of his back pocket. My eyes widen in sheer panic as the silver blade gleams ominously in the sunlight.

Rick lunges, the knife slicing through the air. In a split second, he loses his footing on the icy ridge, crashing onto the melting snow.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I run. Adrenaline kicks in, and I sprint as best as I can on the delicate snow with an injured leg.

Rick lets out an animalistic roar, “You can’t run from me, you bitch!”

The threat stings as sharply as the cold. I push through the pain, each breath ragged and loud. The snow slows me down, every footfall an agony.

Behind me, Rick’s footsteps crunch closer. I can feel him gaining on me. I scream for help, my voice breaking the stillness of the forest. The desperate cry echoes back at me.

I glance back and see Rick struggling to keep up. His leather shoes slip in the snow. The sight gives me a flicker of hope. Gideon must have custom-made shoes for snow. But the gap is closing. Rick’s anger fuels him forward.

The cabin looms ahead, peeking through the dense trees. I push through the pain, each breath a jagged shard of ice in my lungs.

As I near the cabin, my heel slips on a patch of uneven snow. I stumble, pain shooting up my leg. Gritting my teeth, I force myself upright.

Just then, Rick’s rough hand clamps down on my arm like a vice. He yanks me back with a force that makes me wince. I try to pull away, but his massive build hulks over my petite body.

He shoves me, and I crash onto the icy ground. Snow floods my mouth and nose, choking off my breath. Desperate, I scramble to move, but Rick’s growl pierces the cold air. “Gotcha now!” he snarls.

Terror grips me as I fight against his crushing hold. His fingers dig into my wrist, “This time I won’t let you get away. You fucking belong to me!”

“No, I fucking don’t!” I scream, but he backhands me, the impact blurring my vision with black spots. His knee presses into my wounded leg, sending sharp pain shooting through me.

“You’ll regret playing with my feelings, you dumb bitch,” Rick hisses, pinning me down. His hands wrap around my throat, strangling me. I thrash wildly, my vision narrowing as I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to lose consciousness, someone wrenches Rick’s crushing weight off me. I cough violently, my lungs burning. Blinking rapidly, I see Gideon wrestling Rick into a chokehold. My injured leg collapses, and I fall back.

Rick kicks viciously at Gideon’s knee, trying to break free. Gideon lands a punch on Rick’s jaw, but Rick fight back with a frenzied energy.

In the chaos, a flash of light reflects off the knife, blinding Gideon. Seizing the moment, Rick yanks me to his chest, pressing the cold steel of the blade against my throat.

The sharp edge sears into my skin like a branding iron. I feel its stinging pressure lightly dig into the soft flesh of my neck. I try to keep upright on my bleeding leg.

Rick’s voice drops to a menacing whisper, his breath hot and stinging with alcohol. “Is this the guy who fucked you, bitch? Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you better.”

“Let us go, you bastard,” Rick snarls at Gideon, who watches us with a fierce, lethal focus.

“Why? You want her. I want her too,” Gideon taunts, his voice calm but edged with defiance. “Let’s settle this man to man. Or are you only man enough when hiding behind a camera?” He steps forward, his movement stealthy, unnoticed by Rick.

Despite his biting words, I can see the worry in his eyes. My heart aches at the sinking realization that this could be the last time I see him. My mind races, searching for a way out, but my strength is fading fast.

Rick laughs mockingly, “I’d love to chop you up in pieces for putting your hands on her, but I am not here to fight you. I am just here to take my girl home.” He announces that and wraps his other hand around my waist, pulling me against him.

Gideon looks me up and down, taking in my weak condition. His gaze meet mine and he sees the terror in my eyes.

The sharp command, “Drop your knife, asshole,” slices through the air. Rick’s foul weight is abruptly ripped away from me. I turn to see a man in the sheriff’s uniform, his gun trained on Rick’s temple, his onyx eyes blazing with controlled rage.

Rick’s body goes rigid, and his face contorts into a snarl. He points the knife at the officer, but it’s a terrible mistake.

In a swift, practiced move, Gideon tackles Rick down to the ground. He twists his wrist until the knife slips from his hand.

As the officer pulls Rick away, Gideon envelopes me in his arms. The shift from Rick’s vile grip to Gideon’s warm embrace makes me sob with relief. I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his woodsy scent.

When I begin to shake uncontrollably, Gideon’s voice is a balm on my nerves, “I’ve got you, baby. I’m here. You’re safe now.” I cling to his promise like a lifeline. Hot tears stream down my face as I grapple with the overwhelming relief of escaping death.

I turn to see the sheriff put Rick in handcuffs. Liam Gallagher, I faintly recall the name Gideon mentioned yesterday. At 6’4, the officer stands taller than Rick, easily fending off his futile struggles.

Putting him in the car, Liam approaches us cautiously. His deep-set black eyes hold a concern that softens his stern demeanor. “You’re going to be okay, Ariel,” he says, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice shaky but genuine.

Liam’s lips curl into a playful smile. “Hey, don’t mention it. It’s not every day I get to play the hero for such a beautiful woman.”

I chuckle at the unexpected compliment, and nod at him once. He looks at Gideon, his voice dropping to a serious note, “I’ll take care of him. If you need anything, call me.”

The pain from my scrapes and the throbbing in my leg make me sway. Gideon swiftly lifts me up. He cradles me against his chest, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, and carries me inside.

The earthy scent of yeast fills the air in the warm cabin, pushing away the lingering metallic tang of fear.

Gideon settles me on the sofa. He peels off my dirty clothes with a delicate touch, replacing them with his clean ones. I lay down, my body drained and numb. As I look up, I see Gideon’s watchful eyes, and then the adrenaline crash pulls me into a fitful sleep.