Chapter 3 Thunderstorm
Thunderstorm
Ansel
An explosive sound shook the cabin, vibrating through the walls. I yelped and hid my head in the sleeping bag. The rough logs suddenly didn’t seem so sturdy.
This had been a spectacularly bad idea. What was I doing alone in a raging storm in the middle of nowhere?
My brain opened all the creaky cabinets with long-forgotten nightmares, and every childhood fear began spilling out.
Monsters crawled from under the bed, zombies limped toward the cabin, swarms of flesh-eating bugs gathered outside, readying to attack…
It’s just a thunderstorm. It’ll be over in twenty minutes. Chill!
I peeked out of the sleeping bag, eyeing my surroundings. The dim room looked the same as it did when I’d gone to sleep.
Nothing to fear.
Another crack made me shudder. Lord, that was loud!
Except this time, the thunder didn’t roll over the cabin and away.
Instead, ominous snapping and scraping sounds followed, like trees falling all around me.
Had a lightning strike hit right next to the cabin?
I wasn’t sure I had the courage to look outside.
But what if the forest was on fire and I needed to get out of here? I needed to check.
Trembling, I sat up with my sleeping bag tight around my shoulders and peeked out of the window by my bed.
It was pitch black outside, and I could feel more than see the sheets of rain. If I turned on the flashlight, I’d see my reflection in the window and that would be it. Well, with how much it was raining, at least the risk of fire was zero.
Another loud crash made me jolt. It seemed to be coming from all sides now. I thought thunderstorms only came to Cross River in the summer, but it must have been lightning strikes. What else? A meteor? An alien attack?
I lay back down and listened, my heart galloping. The wind howled and wood creaked. Wrapped like a burrito, I sweated even though I felt cold. I should stoke the fire again, but the illusion of safety the sleeping bag gave me held me pinned in place.
Minutes went by. The storm quieted as quickly as it had come, and only the soft dripping of water from leaf to leaf whispered outside.
I couldn’t fall asleep again, though. I lay awake, shivering and thinking. Should I just head back to the hotel my father had booked? But I wouldn’t give up now.
Because realistically, nothing could happen to me out here.
Nobody ever came to these parts of the park.
The bears wanted to avoid me more than I wanted to avoid them, and the risk of wildfires was nonexistent with how much it had been raining since September.
I had enough canned beans, protein bars, and pasta to last until next spring, the shed was stocked with firewood, I had all kinds of medicine for emergency situations, and my car was parked only a couple of miles away, the tank half full.
The lack of cell signal made me nervous, but it had a good side to it—it made the chances of my father finding me out here lower.
And even if lightning strikes battered the surrounding mountains on a nightly basis, I’d be much safer here than on the streets of Ardaine.
I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, nodding off then jolting awake from the tiniest noises. When the cabin got lighter predawn, I sat up and drank some water. I must have slept a little because time felt warped, like the entire night had passed in just a few hours.
Why the hell did I have to be so afraid? Of what? Darkness? Rain? Wind? Like a little kid.
Annoyed with myself, I untangled my limbs from the sleeping bag and dragged on rainproof pants over my sweats. I slipped into my boots and threw a raincoat over my shoulders.
When I looked through the window again, it wasn’t raining anymore, but wisps of fog hung in the air like curtains between the trees.
If there were any fallen trees nearby, they had to be up the hill behind the cabin where I couldn’t see.
Which would be logical—lightning strikes usually hit the highest point around, right?
Fear still slithered its sticky fingers up my spine and around my throat as I hesitated before opening the door.
I had to get used to being here alone and to do that, I needed to face things head-on.
Hopefully, after I inspected the damage the storm had done, my overactive imagination would calm down, knowing there was no threat.
Like my therapist had said—confront anxiety with reality.
I stepped out of the cabin and took a deep breath. The air smelled of moss and pine. The forest was beautiful after it had rained. Tall oaks shrouded in mist loomed above me, their branches bejeweled with droplets.
What time was it anyway? I hadn’t even checked my phone. I’d turned it off to save battery.
Looking around, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No fallen trees, not even a broken branch. Where had the sounds come from? Had I dreamed the entire storm?
I walked down the winding path in the direction of the lake, then turned to the left and began climbing the steep slope to the north. After the torrential rain, the side of the mountain was now crisscrossed with small creeks and waterfalls.
Higher above, where the slope gentled, a group of broken trunks stuck from the ground like spikes. The trees had literally been snapped in half.
I sped up toward the clearing that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday. Shattered branches and lumps of torn-out bushes lay scattered everywhere. Yep, a lightning strike. What else had the power to splinter entire trees?
I trudged through the mess and climbed over branches until I reached the edge of what seemed to be a freshly dug groove in the forest soil, deep enough for me to fall into if I weren’t careful.
Seeing the mess made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Had something crashed here?
My brain provided images of destroyed planes, exploding helicopters, and torn body parts.
I swallowed a wave of nausea and breathed.
Ansel Yves Perrault, I told myself sternly, imagining my granddad’s voice, this is a mystery, and you are an explorer. You’re going to investigate.
I climbed on top of the thick trunk of a fallen pine tree that lay on the edge of the groove. Holding on to a branch, I scanned the debris from a better vantage point.
Green, green, brown, green, the pale orange hue of naked pine wood, gray rocks sticking from the ground, crooked fingers of roots reaching out from the soil…
Then I almost choked on my own spit.
I coughed, then blinked.
What the hell?
It looked like…a wing. A huge, leathery wing. It was dark brown with greenish spots, the colors merging with its surroundings like military camouflage.
Then the wing flapped, sending a gust of humid air into my face, and my soul left my body.
On the torn-up ground, in a circle of fallen trees, lay a creature the size of a plane.
I must still be asleep.
I spotted a clawed foot, then another, a tail curling among the branches. How long was it? Ten feet? Fifteen? What living animal had wings and a fifteen-foot tail?
A dinosaur.
The electrical storm had created a portal and sent either my cabin or a dinosaur through the time vortex.
That, or a huge, carnivorous flying reptile had escaped a genetic laboratory.
Aliens shaped like dinosaurs were attacking planet Earth.
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. Then I counted to ten and opened my eyes again.
Still there, the creature lay on its side, slowly folding its wing to the ground, revealing a snake-like neck and…
Oh wow.
Was it…a dragon?
Yep. That’s a dragon. A four-legged, winged dragon had landed in my backyard.
It had its eyes closed and a terrifying, toothy muzzle open.
Its jaw was so long it could swallow me whole.
To complete the horrifying picture, the dragon’s pearly white teeth gleamed, bigger than my fingers.
Even its forehead and neck were lined with spikes.
A mammoth sigh reverberated through the ground.
Granddad was right. Dragons are real.
I wobbled and grabbed the branch tighter.
The creature sniffed again, and one eye peeled open, looking straight at me. It was bright yellow with a thin band of emerald around the iris and an oblong, reptilian pupil. It blinked and focused on me.
“Hi there,” the dragon said.
I fell off the tree trunk, landing with my ass on the ground.
Ow.
“Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out. Would you mind closing your eyes for a sec?”
Holy fucking insanity. The dragon sounded like an earthquake. Its voice rattled my bones.
It didn’t even occur to me to protest. I dutifully closed my eyes and sat where I was, moisture from the moss seeping through my pants.
Groans and snarls filled the air. For a terrifying second, I thought I’d be a dragon’s breakfast. I covered my head as if that would help and whimpered pitifully.
Then it was quiet, only the pitter-patter of rain drops whispering in the forest.
I waited for a while longer. My heart smashing against my ribs, I slowly opened my eyes.
The dragon was gone. Instead, a naked man lay on his side in the dirt, his body pale and eerily still, his face partially hidden under his arm.
Where had the dragon gone? You know the answer. No, I didn’t know.
I didn’t know anything.
But I had a more pressing matter on my hands than the torn fabric of reality.
Was the guy dead?
Don’t be dead. I can’t deal with that.
I scrambled over the tangled branches until I reached him. Panting, I fell on my knees by his body. For a few seconds, I hovered uselessly, my hands fluttering in the air. He was huge, a mountain of muscles. Even lying helplessly on the ground, he looked intimidating as hell.
What do I do?
Check pulse. I pressed two fingers under the man’s jaw. Nothing.
Please, don’t be dead!
I moved my fingers around through his stubble and pressed again.
There.
I sagged with relief. The man was alive, but he must have been hurt. I patted down his arm and touched his chest, feeling it move with his breaths. Then I put my hand on his forehead.
He was warm. Hot even. Did he have a fever? And why was I even checking his temperature? It wasn’t like he sneezed and complained about a headache.
I didn’t know what I was doing, but the man needed help.
Have you forgotten about the dragon? It’s you who needs help.
Abruptly, the guy shifted, making me jump. For the second time, I fell backward onto my ass, my heart in my throat.
He groaned, stretched one leg and bent it again, then pushed his fist into the ground as if trying to get up. With a pained grunt, he slumped again.
“Sir? Are you…okay?”
What a stupid question. He was naked, covered with scratches, and it looked like the ground had exploded around him.
And it seemed he had a serious condition, having been a thirty-foot reptile just a minute ago.
But I wouldn’t think of that. I’d postpone it for later when I could have a nightmare about the dragon in the safety of my sleeping bag.
“Sir?”
His eyes flew open, and he pinned them on me.
They were emerald green, luminous, with a band of gold around his pupils. I’d never seen eyes like that.
He frowned, his blond eyebrows scrunching up. “You’re still here?” he mumbled.
“Um. Yeah. I can help you. I think?”
The silence stretched while he stared at me. I squirmed.
“Where am I?” he asked. His voice was deep and rumbly. An old voice, but he didn’t look to be more than forty.
“Cross River National Park.”
“I know that,” he said as if I’d offended him. “Where in Cross River? I need to get to my car.”
“Sorry. Um. We’re in the northeast part of the park, away from the trails. I have a cabin. Over there.” I pointed.
Again, the man pushed to raise himself. He grunted and hissed but managed to sit up. Holy hell, he was a beast. Massive round shoulders and pecs, wide chest… I tried very hard not to look between his legs.
He grabbed his left upper arm with his right hand and yanked. His sudden shout made me scramble up.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked.
He looked up at me, face contorted with pain. “Dislocated shoulder. I just put it back.”
I gaped.
“You…put it back.”
Was he human? Of course not. But I knew that.
I couldn’t stop staring at how huge he was. Long arms and legs, covered with thick muscles. His torso seemed as wide as I was tall—only a slight exaggeration there.
A big, mature alpha.
I’m alone in the woods with an older alpha with…a reptilian problem.
A naked alpha.
I shut my brain up before all the possible implications could make me panic.
“Do you have something I can wear?” he asked.
“Um.”
Nothing I had would fit him. You’d need three of me to make one of him.
He must have come to the same conclusion on his own as he looked me up and down. “Never mind.”
Then he stretched out his hand. On autopilot, I took it with both of mine and pulled. Damn, he was heavy. I doubted I was of any help as he struggled to get up, his left arm hanging limply.
When he finally stood, he towered above me. How tall was he? Six and a half feet or more. This man could snap me in half using only his one uninjured arm.
He shifted from foot to foot and grunted.
“I seem to have sprained my ankle.” He looked around, assessing the mayhem. “Among other things.”
I stared up at him, at a loss.
Then he smiled at me, most charmingly, and offered me a scraped, muddy hand. “Pascal Pembroke. And you are?”
“Ansel.” He arched one eyebrow when I didn’t tell him my last name. But then his hand swallowed mine, huge and warm, and he kept grinning.
Pale lashes framed his bright-green eyes, and he sported a dark-blond stubble with reddish streaks over his powerful jaw. He had distinct laugh lines and full, smiling lips. His shaggy blond hair was a mess of pine needles and specks of dark forest soil, but he looked…nice. Kind of.
“Pleased to meet you, Ansel. Could you help me out? You mentioned a cabin.”