3. Lost in the Snow

I guessyou could say I'm a "recruiter."

My technical job title is "Field Responder." That is, I answer calls out in the field when someone with my skill set could be useful. I'm somewhere between a hostage negotiator and a saleswoman. I talk down monsters that might otherwise not be open to what I have to offer. But I'm good at talking. I've been doing this a long time.

The flight to Alaska is lengthy but not boring because I always bring two books when I travel, one for each direction. Before I know it I'm descending into Anchorage, marveling at how everything is white with snow even though it's April.

I pick up my rented car and summon the instructions I wrote down on my phone. GPS could lead me astray on these backroads, and it might not even know some of them exist. I'm headed to a ranch, whose name I've already forgotten, where my potential client is waiting. It'll take a few hours to get out there.

Snow drifts down in gentle, tiny flakes, so I put on my music and drive. I follow the directions, trying to remember how many roads I've passed since most of them don't even have signs.

There. I take a right and the car jumps as I hit a pot hole. It's another few miles down this road until farm equipment starts to come into view. A few trucks are parked outside the house, and my little sedan pulls in neatly between two of them.

When I go up to the house and knock, though, no one answers.

I hear shouting in the distance. That must be where they are with the potential client. I head off towards the sound, wishing I'd worn something a little more sturdy. These booties are not cutting it in snow that's two feet deep.

"Get back!" There's a loud clang as someone hits a metallic object. There's a roar of answer, and I already know this particular negotiation is going to start off on the wrong foot.

Around the side of the barn, three men stand with long guns in their hands. One is banging a metal cage with the butt of his weapon, shouting, "Get back!"

Something inside the cage moves. It's big, bigger than either of the men, and when it roars and lunges at the bars of the cage, its thick hair moves with it.

Hair. I'm probably dealing with a yeti.

"Back up, guys," I call out. In their surprise, one of the men points his gun at me, and I raise my hands up. "Hey, watch where you point that thing. You're the one who called me." I pause. "Well, you called the cops. And then they called me because they don't want to get anywhere near a monster. Is that right?"

The men grunt in agreement.

"You?" one of them says when I approach. "Just a little lady? How are you gonna help us?"

I may be small, but I'm good at my job. Sometimes it even helps me a little. Everyone underestimates me.

"I'm Rena Summers, from the Monster Menagerie."

One of the men snaps his fingers and says, "Oh, I know them."

"Right. So what happened here?" I step toward the cage. "Why don't you guys just back away and everybody can take a deep breath, all right?"

"That thing's been eating our cows," one of the men growls, lowering his rifle. "I finally caught it, though. Walked right into my trap."

I ignore him and take in the yeti's condition. He's dirty, I'll give him that. But this bear cage wasn't really clean to start with.

"Hey," I say to the yeti, stepping towards the bars. He has bright golden eyes, and his face is still visible under the shower of white hair. He has a firm mouth pulled down at the sides, and a flat nose better suited to cold conditions. He towers over me, even more than most people do. "What's your name?" I ask him.

One of the men laughs. "That thing can't talk or it would have by now."

I roll my eyes. Everyone assumes monsters who live off the grid somehow don't have the ability to speak. But with the exception of the less humanoid creatures, most monsters can talk in some shape or form. There's a sharkman at the Menagerie who uses sign language in his tank.

The yeti grunts and shakes his head.

"See?" the second man says. "Not a word."

"Ignore them," I tell the creature. "Do you want to get out of here?" I say it like we've just met at a bar and I want to go home together. "We can just ditch this place. I know somewhere way better."

The yeti just grumbles and moves to the back of the cage. I need to make him understand somehow that what I'm offering is better than this.

I don't just work for the Menagerie because it's a job. I like monsters. I respect them. I want them to have the best possible life they can in this world we've taken from them. I wouldn't do this if I didn't believe it was right.

"What about my cows?" the first man asks, gesturing with his gun. "He'll just come back. He's already killed three of ‘em."

I can't negotiate with my potential client while these numbskulls are here.

"If I can successfully convince our friend to come with me, the Menagerie will help cover the cost of your lost livestock." This isn't true, but I need them to leave me alone with him. "But I can't do that with you here. He's afraid of you."

"As well he should be!" One of the other men sounds a little drunk. "If I ever see him here again, I'm gonna—"

"We get the picture," I tell him. "Now go on. I'll take care of this. Okay?"

The men complain, but eventually one of them surrenders the key to me and they all stalk back to the house. One shoots a warning shot into the air, and both the yeti and I cover our ears.

Finally they're gone. "Sorry about them," I say, approaching the bars. "It's just you and me now. Can we talk a little?"

"No reason," the yeti says quietly. I almost can't hear him, so I lean even closer. "Let me go."

"The only way those men are going to let you go is if you're going with me," I say. "I assume you were swiping livestock because you're hungry. Is that right?"

The yeti says nothing, but his lips turn down in a scowl.

"Right. There's not much to eat in winter, is there? But if you chose to go with me back to the Menagerie, you'd never be hungry again. Three square meals a day, if you want. Or two. Whatever your body prefers."

The yeti might look like he isn't listening, but I can see when he cocks his head ever-so-slightly.

"Do you want me to open the cage door?" I ask. "So we can talk properly?"

There's a long pause, and then, he nods his head.

"Great." I put the key in the lock and turn, so it pops open. "Now don't run off, okay? I want us to have a conversation."

Slowly, the yeti starts to move in my direction. I keep my hands where he can see them, staying in front of the door opening so he can't simply bolt past me. I need to earn his trust first, and show him I'm not trying to do anything that's against his will. He'll have to come freely.

The Monster Menagerie is a voluntary program, providing monsters with residential homes in exchange for a little show-and-tell. They're asked to spend a few hours a day in their exhibition rooms behind bulletproof plastic walls, so people touring the Menagerie can observe them in their "natural habitats." It's the perfect safe haven for a creature like this yeti, who isn't doing well out in the wild anymore and has found himself running aground of humans. Humans are monsters' greatest threat, and our goal at the Menagerie is to offer them a respite, a safe haven.

"I'm here as a friend," I say as the yeti hovers at the open door. "I want to help you. I think you deserve a better life than scrounging the few offcuts you can get from these guys."

The yeti's gold eyes are watching me intently. I think he's listening.

"We'll give you a nice apartment that resembles your ideal lifestyle," I continue. "You can set the temperature as cold as you want and there's lots of entertainment and recreation." I try not to sound like a brochure and keep it personable.

The yeti makes a hmph sound, like he's hearing what I'm saying but doesn't believe me.

"It won't be the same," I add. "But it'll sure beat getting left in a cage or shot by one of these jokers." I gesture with my thumb at the house behind me.

I think that perhaps I'm getting through, until suddenly the yeti moves. And boy does he move. He's like a bolt of lightning as he shoves past me, out the door of the cage. But my stupid booties are stuck in the snow, so I stumble and fall, hitting my head on the metal bars.

For a second, the yeti stops and turns back to look at me.

"Fuck," is all I can say as I rub my head. Then I look up at him. "Please, don't go. Those guys will find you, and they'll kill you." I guess I don't have a filter anymore after getting such a sturdy bonk to the noggin.

Those golden eyes evaluate me for just a second longer, and then he's off running again through the snow.

Damn it. I was so close. Or was I? There's a good chance he just manipulating me and never intended to listen to my offer at all.

Great. I can't be the one responsible for letting him go, not when these assholes are ready to shoot off a gun at the sound of a snowflake falling. I only have one choice.

I tear off into the snow after him, booties be damned, and follow his huge footprints.

Being native to this region, obviously the yeti is much faster than I am. He has long vanished into the trees, but here I am still following in hope that he'll lead me to his home and we can have a longer conversation that isn't under duress. Maybe then he'll be more open to my proposition.

But as I finally reach the tree line, I feel the gentle flakes that have been falling turn thicker and heavier, each one landing on me like a fat raindrop. Great. Just great. I'm in Alaska, out in the middle of the wilderness while a snowstorm sets in.

I wonder what different life choices I could have made.

Still I keep on, because I have more determination to find the yeti than I do courage to face the men with guns. And I wasn't joking when I said they would probably kill him—it's my responsibility to help.

The snowfall steadily builds up on my shoulders as I keep walking, and so much snow has gotten in my booties and turned to water that my feet are squishing inside them with every step. God. I really wish I'd worn something else, something a tiny bit more practical. Now my toes are starting to freeze being submerged in cold water. As if the biting cold of the snow itself wasn't enough.

Luckily, it's easy to follow in the yeti's tracks, so I know I won't lose him. At least, I think I won't. The snow is starting to fall faster now, and it's filling up the gaps left by his huge, bare feet.

Oh, shit. I can't get lost out in the wild. I've gone at least a mile now, maybe two—there's no way those guys would find me.

That's when the tracks suddenly stop. I'm at the edge of a small pool, filled by a waterfall that's half-frozen over. There's white hair floating on the surface, as if the yeti was just here and then left before I could reach him.

Did he take a bath? In the middle of a snowstorm? I can only imagine what thick skin he has, how dense his hair must be to keep him warm out here.

Unfortunately, I have neither. I consider turning around to head back, but when I do...

My tracks are gone.

"Fuck," I say aloud. "Fuck fuck fuck." Now I've really made a mistake. If I can't find my way back, then the yeti is my only option. Maybe if I can find him, he'll be willing to get me back home, even if he decides not to go with me to the Menagerie. He seemed unfriendly, but not so cold as to let me die.

I hop over the little river that funnels off from the pool, and walk around the edge searching for prints. Finally, I find them, recent enough that they haven't been covered by the snow yet. I hurriedly take off after them, my feet squishing inside my socks and boots. I just hope that his bath has slowed him down and he's not much farther ahead.

But as the snowfall gets stronger and the cold bears down on me, I find I'm slowing. My teeth are chattering so hard I can feel the pounding up in my temple, and I'm curling and uncurling my hands to keep my fingers from freezing into claws. The tracks are starting to grow shallower and shallower, and soon they disappear.

I come to a stop. This can't really be how it ends for me, can it? It's idiotic, really. I was a high-powered career woman. I had a life trajectory planned out; get married in the next three years, maybe have a kid before I'm considered "geriatric," work my way up to a managerial position at the Menagerie, maybe even make it onto the board. I want to have the power to make decisions that will improve the lives of the monsters that live there.

"Hello?!" I call out, as loud as I can. If I cause an avalanche, so what? If I can't find help, my choice is to die out here alone or die under an avalanche. "Yeti? Are you there?!"

My voice carries a little, but the snowfall is killing my echo. I try again, even louder. "Hello! Somebody help me!"

No answer.

I try to keep walking in the direction of the prints I saw earlier, hoping that he kept in a straight line and didn't weave. But I'm getting sluggish now, my arms and legs shaking just as hard as my teeth, and I think my toes have gone completely to sleep. Maybe that means they're frostbitten, and I'm going to lose them in the long run.

Not that it matters if I don't survive this at all.

I don't notice when I trip on a rock, because my feet can't feel anything. It's when I topple forward, face-down in the snow, that I realize something has happened. Flailing, I manage to sit up, but now my feet won't work.

"Help!" I cry out again, but my voice is so weak. It would really just be a lot easier to go to sleep. Maybe, if I slept, I could feel warm again.

Is this what freezing to death is like?

I don't have any more helps left in me, so I sit there in the snow, trying to breathe. That's the last thing I remember.

"Fuck!" I awaken to a feverish, blistering pain in my feet. "Jesus!" Except my shouts don't come out as shouts but as ugly, hoarse groans.

"No move," a very stern voice warns me.

I blink a few times, but my eyes feel sticky and crusted. Moving my arms is a no-go. I can still feel most of them, but my hands and fingers? It's almost like they don't exist anymore.

I cry out again as searing pain rips through my foot and up my leg. Finally I crack my eyes open and look down to see what's happening to me.

My shoes have been taken off and lie a few feet away next to my soaking-wet socks. I'm sitting in front of a fire with my feet closest to the flame. There's a huge creature crouched over me, studying me intently.

It's the yeti. Wherever we are, I can't see much beyond the reach of the firelight, but I think it's a cave of some sort. There are scorch marks on the walls, along with some crude drawings. He must have come for me, out in the snow, and brought me back to his home.

Again my feet howl in agony, and I try to pull them away. The yeti roars.

"No move!" His voice is harsh, and immediately I stop what I'm doing. With an irritated sigh, he gestures at my feet. "Get warm. Or lose."

I suck in a breath. So I was that close to getting frostbite, or I still am. I check my arms and hands, where my fingers have turned a dark blue. That is definitely not a color skin should have.

"My hands!" I cry out, trying to move them. They don't respond more than a little twitch.

"Quiet," the yeti growls. He inches away from the fire, and reaches out with one big, furry arm to grab my hand. I'm too weak to fight back as he yanks it towards him, and presses my fingers between his huge palms.

Oh. There's that terrible pain again. I cry out and try to yank back, but the yeti is much stronger than I am, especially now.

"No move!"

I'm getting tired of hearing this, as much as he's probably getting tired of saying it. It's not like I have a choice, anyway, so I stop flailing, even though it feels like my whole body is on fire. I whimper and let my head fall back to the floor.

It's not hard, I realize. In fact, it's soft, as soft as a cloud. I turn my neck to one side and find fur brushing my face. It doesn't smell the best, but oh, does it feel good against my cold skin.

The yeti is watching me carefully, still holding my offending hand. Soon he lowers it back to the fur, and then gets to his feet. With heavy, lumbering footsteps he walks around me, then sits down on my right side and takes my other hand. It burns, too, but now I'm expecting the pain. I twitch and groan but try not to move, because the last thing I want is to get chastised by a yeti again.

While he sits there warming me up, I have no choice really but to stare at him. He's no longer dirty, not at all. In fact, his white fur is shining and somehow totally dry. It's not terribly long, about as long as the hair on a Persian cat, but it's thick and obscures most of the shape of his body. He doesn't say anything, so I keep staring, taking in as much as I can.

I love to learn about monsters, what their habitats are like, their natural diets, what makes them tick. They're all parts of the great tapestry that is our world, and frankly, the most interesting ones. I wonder if the yeti's hair works like polar bear hair. Does he have an undercoat? Does he shed in the summers? I have all sorts of questions, but I don't want to annoy him again.

Finally I ask, "What's your name?"

The yeti jerks a little, clearly surprised that I've broken the silence. Then his eyebrows lower.

"Why?"

"Well, I just thought that since you're helping me, I should know what to call you."

He looks even more agitated, but eventually he answers, "Morak."

"Morak," I repeat, to make sure I got the pronunciation right. With a grunt, he nods. "Wonderful. Morak. It's nice to meet you. I'm Rena."

He does not look interested at all in this information, but I don't mind. I'm used to talking when nobody around me cares to listen. "If I survive this," I say, and the yeti snorts, "then I really hope you'll consider my offer. Hell, even if I don't, my business card is in my pocket, and you should definitely call the Menagerie." Once again, he huffs with derision. I give him a stern look, trying to ignore the raging pain in my every limb. "I'm serious. I know you like your home, but lots of other, um, creatures live there, and they're all quite happy. I would be ecstatic to give you some testimonials." I cringe. "They're in my pocket."

Morak just rolls his eyes.

"What?" I ask. "What do you hate about the idea? Tell me. I want to know." I've been accused many times of being demanding, but it's just who I am. A dog with a bone, you might say.

He doesn't answer for a long time, and soon I begin to think he won't. But finally he lets out an irritated grunt and says, "Looking."

I'm thrilled that he's going to talk to me. I still have a shot at this. "Looking for what?"

He turns his face down towards me, and this time his eyes are sad. "Mate. Family."

Oh. Well, that's something we can't help with at the Menagerie, at least not until we get a call like this for another yeti. Even then, it's not like they'll just automatically be attracted to each other. They're not zoo animals.

"I see." I can't really offer him a solution to that particular problem. "Have you seen many of your kind recently?" I ask.

He looks away from me. "No."

Yetis must be endangered, like most of the monsters at the Menagerie. I know they tend to be isolated, so it's not as if anyone is keeping tabs on them or their population. This might be the first documentation we have.

My hand is still wedged between Morak's palms, and he's started absentmindedly stroking it. At least I have the feeling back in it now, even if it hurts.

"I'm sorry." I don't have a solution to offer, so I won't even try. "If it helps at all, there are billions of people on this planet and I still haven't found my mate, either."

He glances up at me with obvious surprise. "Why?" he asks, and I think there's a tinge of envy in his voice. "So many."

I nod. "Yeah. I mean, I've gone out with plenty of guys. But all of them are turned off by me. If I happen to like him, there's a good chance he'll never call me back." They don't say why they ghost me, of course, but I have a few guesses. I'm passionate about monsters, and talk about my job a lot. I travel frequently, which makes it hard to have a carry on a stable relationship anyway. The few I've had usually fizzle and burn out.

He frowns in confusion. "Rena pretty," he says. "Why no mate?"

I laugh. Even by human standards I'm pretty average or below-average, and I've got a little extra junk in my trunk. Not really the pick of the litter at a bar. "For starters, I'm not pretty," I say. Maybe if I were a little more easygoing, my personality would be enough.

Morak shakes his head. "Wrong."

I quirk an eyebrow. Am I being told by a yeti that I'm nice to look at?

"Wrong?" I echo. "How would you know?"

"I know."

Finally, Morak releases my hand, and I find that slowly the color has crept back into it. He returns to my other hand which is still as cold as ice, like the rest of my body. This conversation has distracted me from it so far, but I'm starting to get weary again.

He says nothing else as he repositions himself on the floor. My eyelids are starting to flutter closed. "Awake!" Morak snaps, and I quickly jolt back to consciousness. "No sleep."

I groan. "But I'm so cold, and I'm so tired. Please, I just need to rest my eyes for a while." My chest, my thighs, every part of me is freezing. I want to escape it.

With a heavy sigh, Morak leans down towards me, and I feel one of his arms slip underneath my body. I wriggle against him. "I'm perfectly comfortable on this soft fur on the floor, thank you very much, and it's about time I went to bed!"

But he doesn't answer. He simply slides me towards him, then lies down on the fur. His other hand wraps around my waist, and though I'm still objecting, he's stronger than I am.

"Stop," he growls, and instinctually, I listen. "Cold. Need warm." His big hands bring me against his chest, so my face is buried in his white fur.

Oh, is it soft. He's soft and warm and strangely, he smells wonderful, like a Christmas tree. No, no, it's like lying in front of the fireplace, next to a Christmas tree. Yes, that's it. I breathe in a deep whiff of him, and it's as if my muscles all loosen at once. The heat of him around me makes my skin hurt, but in that way where you know the medicine is working.

"Wow," I mutter against his chest. "You're really warm."

"Yes," Morak answers. There's less annoyance in his voice now. "Warm good."

I nod in agreement. He's twice as soft as the fur on the ground is, and underneath it I can feel tough muscle, sturdy and solid. His arms are thick and his hands are huge. I move around a little to get more comfortable, and Morak grunts.

"Stop," he says.

"Sorry," I say. But I'm cold and my clothes are wet, and everything hurts.

Growling, Morak releases me and sits up. Before I can blink he's trying to pull apart the zipper of my jacket.

"Off," he says.

"What?" I clutch the wet jacket. "Why?"

"Cold!" Clearly, he has very little patience for me. "Off."

I need him if I'm not going to freeze to death so I do as I'm told, unzipping the big, heavy jacket, and he shoves it aside. But he's still not satisfied. He nods at my clothed body again. "Off."

I realize what he wants. It's like something out of a movie, where we have to cuddle naked to stay warm. But Morak hasn't seen a rom-com, so if he thinks this is the way I survive this, then I'll do it.

I manage to unbutton my shirt and squeeze the wet sleeves off, but my fingers are too cold for the pants. Without much preamble, Morak reaches down and tears open the mechanism, then slowly drags the wet slacks down my thighs and calves. Underneath I'm totally naked except for my bra and underwear. He frowns at these objects, not sure what to make of them.

I'm not going to part with those. "No," I say, covering my chest.

He gets just the hint of a smile on his face, then nods. "Come." He lies back down and gestures for me to get close again. This time, his soft fur is everywhere and oh my god, does it feel good on my bare skin. Strangely, I start shivering, and I think that means my blood is starting to move again.

Then the itching starts. I move my arms, trying to scratch, but Morak lets out a warning sound and keeps me close.

"Stop," he says again.

"Sorry! But my skin itches all over." I can't help it. It feels like there are ants crawling everywhere. "I'm so fucking cold."

Morak growls, so I try to stop. That's when I feel something slowly growing against my thigh, thick and warm and definitely not covered in fur. I only have to wonder for a brief second before it occurs to me what it is.

Crap. I didn't mean to make him horny. But he doesn't move to do anything with it, and after a while, I'm able to ignore it.

Still, I wonder what it looks like down there. The skin of his hands is a leathery pink-brown; perhaps his cock would be the same color.

God. I have to stop. I know that it's been a long time since I had a date end by "going upstairs for coffee," but it can't have been that long. An employee at the Menagerie has already gotten in trouble for hooking up with a monster—not one, but two—and I'm not going to follow down that path and lose my job.

Soon my skin stops that infernal burning. I'm still cold to the bone, but my chattering has slowed. I don't notice when I fall asleep.

When I wake up a while later, Morak's breathing is steady. His arms are still wrapped tight around me, holding me close to his body, sharing his incredible heat. I've never felt so cozy in my life. I could probably sleep like this forever.

Eventually, though, I need to go pee. Now that my body has woken up, other parts of me are awake now, too. Gently I shake Morak's chest.

"Hey."

He groans, his arms tightening around me. He snuffles my head and sighs, then seems to suddenly realize who I am and where we are.

He sits up, lifting an arm to rub his eyes which leaves me unfortunately mostly naked and cold.

"Pee?" I ask. "Somewhere I can go to the bathroom, please?"

He sighs. Together, we manage to get me up to my feet, and Morak wraps an arm around me to hold me upright as he leads me towards the mouth of the cave, where it looks like only a white void is waiting for us.

The snow has piled up high already, and more of it is coming down in a thick curtain. Shit. This is an honest-to-god blizzard, and I'm stuck out here in it for who knows how long.

Morak clears away a chunk of snow with one arm, making a little alcove for me. He points at it. "Go."

What? With him standing right there?

"Turn around!" I say. Rolling his eyes, he turns around. I almost fall over when he releases me, but I manage to limp over into the snow, then pop a squat.

When I'm done, I wash off my hands in the snow and limp back inside the cave. He guides me over to the pelt, and there he bundles me up tight again. This time he rests his chin on the top of my head, and I find that my arms have found their way around his big chest. It's nice to be this near to someone and embrace them, even if he's only doing it so I don't die of frostbite.

After a while, I feel that thick object starting to nudge at my naked thigh once more. This time it sends a spark through me, straight up to the little nerve center right between my legs.

That's just great. Now he's turned on and so am I. By what? A huge yeti dick?

Oof. The thought barrels into me at full speed, and that pool of liquid lava is growing. He's big, I can tell that just from how it's touching me.

I feel like this should all be very awkward, but instead the air is charged with electricity. My heart is racing as more of my blood pumps downward.

I really want to know what that cock looks like, maybe even, what it feels like.

For science.

"Morak?" I ask quietly.

"Yes, Rena."

His voice sends a little shiver through me. "Are you, um... I mean, do you..." I have no idea how to say what I'm thinking. For once, words have failed me. "Can I, I mean..." I run a hand down his chest, towards his abdomen. He flexes very suddenly, and his arms around me tense up. "Sorry," I say, halting my movement. "I just, it's interesting, and I wanted to know if I could maybe..."

"Touch?" he interrupts. Thank god. It's as if he can read my mind. I nod quickly. He hums, and I'd almost say there's amusement in his voice as he says, "Yes. Rena touch."

His hips slide toward me almost imperceptibly, and I can suddenly feel the entire length of his big cock on my thigh. Holy fuck.

My curious hands travel down further between us, over his groin where the fur thins out. There, under my fingers, is a big, thick, leathery object that immediately twitches under my touch.

Morak lets out the smallest gasp. He must be sensitive. With care I bring my hand down the length of him, trying not to apply too much pressure until I get a lay of the land.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, to be up close and personal with a monster like Morak. Not to mention that he's warm, soft, and incredibly well-endowed. Plus, he saved me from a snowstorm, and that makes me like him immensely, despite the fact I was only out there because I was chasing after him.

When I reach his cockhead, I find a droplet of pre-come already there. I must really turn him on, I think. That's gratifying.

I run my hands up and down, just feeling him and testing different pressures to see what he likes. I don't get much data out of it, though, because it seems Morak enjoys just about everything I'm doing. The longer I stroke him, the more his hips start to move under my touch, and his arms are tightening around me.

Suddenly, his hands fall down to mine, and he pulls them away.

"Shit," I say, curling up. "I'm sorry, did I—?"

Fervently he shakes his head. "Good," he says. "Too much good." He's breathing heavier now, and his dick is pretty firmly pressed against my belly.

"Is that bad?" I ask.

Morak exhales sharply. He seems to regain control of himself, and then his hand starts to move down my back. "I touch," he finally says. "I touch Rena, yes?"

Oh. I see. He wants to get me in on the action. I'm definitely not going to object to that.

"Yes, it's okay to touch."

With a nod, his hand ventures further down, over the round peaks of my butt. Curious about them, he stops to examine, and his cock pulses against me as he squeezes each cheek.

That's hot in a way I can't really explain.

Now his other hand is moving, finding its way between us, past where his cock is leaving wet trails on my skin. It stops as it reaches the hair between my legs, and investigates it for a moment before descending further down.

His hands might be as big as plates, but they're soft as he brushes over the outside of my sex, just a feather touch. He explores more, dipping one finger between my folds, where he must feel how wet I am already. All that rubbing of his huge cock got me good and fired up.

"Mmm," Morak breathes as he tests more of me, noting each of my labia, then the slit further down. As he drags his hand back up, the pad of his finger passes over my clit and I let out a small gasp. He pauses, then repeats the motion. This time, I moan. I can hear his heartbeat speed up as he returns to the place that triggered my reaction and starts to play more earnestly there, flicking it back and forth, rubbing it, and trying out all the different ways to make me tremble and groan.

"Inside," I murmur into his chest. "Put it inside."

He pauses, then seems to understand what I'm asking for and slides his finger down lower. When he finds me, I'm so soaked that it glides in easily.

"Oh!" I clench his arms in my hands, and I can see him grinning from the corner of my eye. He experiments some more, thrusting the finger in and out, curling it and stroking me, measuring each of my responses. When he brings his thumb up to touch my tender nub, I nuzzle into his shoulder and moan. There's a rumble of amusement in his chest.

Now he's gotten me all stirred up and I want more. That thick cock is still drizzling come down my belly, and I can't stop thinking about it or how it might feel. I wonder if he would even want that.

I guess there's no way to know unless you ask.

While he plays with me, I bring my hands back to his length, and start to stroke it. Morak pauses his assault, and leans back so he can look down at me. There's a wide, questioning look in his eyes.

"Do you want to?" I ask. "Have sex?"

His hand stills, and slowly he withdraws it. I think he's about to turn me away, but then he peers at my face with those bright, golden eyes and nods his head.

"I want."

He grips me by the hips and, without much preamble, rolls me over onto my side so I'm facing away from him. I'm surprised by this, but I don't object. Perhaps this is the way yetis mate? He reaches down again, sliding his hand between my ass cheeks and around to my slick pussy. He positions himself behind me and presses his cock down to slide between my legs. I think he's about to just dive in, which I wouldn't mind, but instead he runs the thick head of his cock back and forth along my hot center, slathering himself up with my juices and his. He's breathing faster now and so am I, anticipating whatever comes next. His other hand runs up and down my back as he lowers his hips.

When he presses at my entrance, he's bigger than I expected. Luckily, his finger-fucking lubed me up well, and with one sharp thrust he's inside me.

I cry out, not expecting so much so fast, but god, does Morak feel good. He doesn't go deep, though, and gives me a moment to adjust, pulling in and out shallowly. I clench the fur under us in my hands as he opens me up.

"Feels good," he groans behind me, his fingers squeezing my ass as he ventures further in. I'm tight around that thick cock, so tight, and I can feel every movement exquisitely. He continues thrusting at his slow pace, sliding deeper each time and urging me wider for him.

Holy shit. We've only just started and this might very well be the best fuck I've ever had.

I lean forward so I can take in even more of him, and behind me, Morak growls in pleasure. Soon he's buried in me up to the hilt, his heavy sac slapping my ass with each stroke, his leathery hands gripping my hips. I'm trembling all over as his thick length slicks in and out, pushing me ever higher.

"Up," Morak grunts in a commanding voice. He grabs onto my waist and, still lodged deep inside me, lifts me onto my knees. He leans forward so his soft fur hugs my body, and takes a powerful whiff of my hair. He lets out a pleased grumble, and his hands reach around to my breasts so he's fully ensconcing me. His hands run over my bra, then he shoves it out of the way so he can reach my nipples.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, plucking them. "Delicious."

Then he starts to move inside me again, his hands taking in the curve of my hip, the thick flesh of my thighs, the roundness of my belly. One hand ducks down between my legs and starts to rub over my clit. Almost immediately I'm soaring, my body twitching and shaking under his tender attacks. I'm so close to the sun that I'm crying out. Morak starts to pound into me faster, that huge cock spreading me even further, reaching a place deep down inside me that's never been touched before.

"Fuck," I moan, my arms giving out underneath me so my ass is sticking up in the air. He doesn't slow his pace, and my butt bounces on his furry belly with every thrust. Now he's grunting and groaning too, and somehow swelling up even more as he grips me hard with both hands. My climax hits me like a train. I scream when he barrels through it, plunging into me even as my pussy clamps down. I'm spinning even higher, and I can hear Morak roaring as he releases. There's so much of him that it spills out down my thighs, and still he pumps more. A second orgasm strikes out of nowhere, like a stray thunderbolt, and my whole body collapses underneath him.

Panting, Morak crouches over me and runs his fingers through my hair.

"Rena," he says quietly, running soothing hands down my back. "Good."

I nod in agreement. "Good."

As he withdraws even more of his come slips out and drizzles down my leg. Wow. Who knew that yetis came like waterfalls?

While I lie there feeling like a marionette with cut strings, Morak gathers me up in his arms and brings me close against his warm, plush body. When I bury my face in the hair of his chest, I wonder if just maybe, I'm glad I got lost in the snow.

The next morning, I wake up naked and sweating curled up in the curve of Morak's arm. The fire has died down, and he must have gotten up during the night to lay out my clothes to dry.

When he awakens too, he doesn't let me go. He mounts me again, clearly preferring this method of having sex, which I don't mind at all. He milks my orgasm out of me, nursing it with slow strokes until my cries are echoing around his cave and he's slamming through my tight channel, bringing me to a place I didn't think was possible.

When we're spent and all I want to do is go back to sleep again, Morak rolls me up in his embrace.

"I will come," he says.

"Again?" I ask. Then his words sink a little deeper in. "Wait, do you mean to the Menagerie? You'll come back with me?"

He just nods his big, hairy head. When I look up, there's a small smile on his wide face.

"Yes."

At least now he'll be safe from those men.

When the blizzard finally abates, he packs a few small belongings, including a knife, which I assure him he won't need, some stones for starting a fire, and a skin for heating up water. Then he produces an object I didn't expect: a comb. He brushes all of his hair so it's white and straight and shining and then nods at me.

"We go."

It's a long hike back to the house and partway through, Morak picks me up and carries me against his chest because I'm too slow and too cold in my little booties.

Finally we reach the house again, and one of the men storms out carrying his gun. I run up with my hands in the air.

"Wait, wait," I call out. "It's fine. We're going. Okay?"

He jerks the barrel of the gun towards my car. "We dug it out for you," he grumbles.

"Thanks."

It's a challenge getting Morak's big body into the car, an object which he regards with a deep suspicion. I can't imagine how he's going to handle airplanes, but he seems to trust me now. I assure him that where we're going, he'll never have to worry about guns or cars or airplanes again.

"Rena is there?" he asks, more than once.

"Yes. I'll be there." I don't know what that entails, but I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll try to get that rule changed.

"Good." Morak settles into the leather seat, making himself comfortable. "I like Rena."

"Yeah," I say, putting the car in drive. "I like you, too."