Chapter 6 Fire in the Snow
Fire in the Snow
Deliciously hot!
Matisse escorts me out of the hotel to the only red car in the sea of black vehicles and opens the door for me. As I slide into the backseat of the stylish car, I discover another surprise waiting for me when the man I was fantasizing about a short time ago is at the wheel.
I just gape at him with my mouth open.
Matisse joins me in the backseat and states in a seductive yet firm voice, “Your attention should be on your Master.”
I immediately turn to face him and apologize.
Matisse smiles wickedly and asks, “Do you trust me, mon trésor?” as he pulls out a strip of cloth from his pocket. “The only way for a young maiden to get lost is to lose sight of where she is going. Now, turn your pretty head so I can cover those emerald eyes.”
A shy smile curls my lips as I eagerly comply.
I experience a jolt of delicious tension when he covers my eyes and ties the blindfold securely so I can’t see anything. After helping me with the seatbelt, he sits back and begins talking to my driver in French as we head out.
Their conversation draws me in because of the beautiful lilt of their language. It leaves me spellbound—even though I don’t understand what they are saying.
We remain on the thoroughfare for quite some time before the car exits and heads down a series of winding roads. I hear the sound of ice crunching under the tires when it finally slows down and comes to a complete stop.
“Remain still,” Matisse orders as he gets out of the car.
I’m keenly aware of every sound as he walks to the back of the car and opens the trunk. If I didn’t trust the man, I would seriously be freaking out right now based on all the horror movies I’ve seen.
But instead of fear, I’m buzzing with excitement. It’s obvious that Matisse has taken great care in planning out this scene.
I jump when he slams the trunk shut and walks over to my side. As soon as he opens the door, I’m hit with a blast of cold air and suck in my breath.
Matisse unbuckles me and pulls me to the edge of the seat so my legs are outside the vehicle. “Don’t move.”
Taking each ankle, he gently slides my heels off before replacing them with warm winter boots.
“Stand,” he commands, taking my hand and helping me out of the car. Although I’m wearing my coat, the winter breeze still cuts like a knife, and I bury my hands deep in my pockets.
“My friend will lead the way. I expect you to obey his command.”
I swallow hard, alarmed that I am being passed off to another, and stammer, “But…aren’t you coming with me?”
Matisse answers with a light chuckle. “You must first be lost before I can find you.”
Appreciating the lengths he’s gone to in crafting this scene, I bow my head in gratitude. “I will do as you ask, Matisse.”
He replies in a hauntingly gruff tone, “When we meet again, you will call me Kaelith.”
Shivers run down my spine when I hear him say that name with such authority. Eager to embrace the fantasy he’s creating, I bow my head in respect.
“Until our paths cross again, mon trésor.”
My insides quiver when he takes my hand and guides me, linking my arm through the driver’s muscular one.
“Take good care of her.”
“Of course.”
I allow myself to be led away, but my curiosity won’t allow me to remain silent for long. “Can I ask your name?”
“No,” he grunts.
Chagrinned, I struggle silently through the deep snow on the ground, then ask, “Where are you taking me?”
He replies smoothly, “To your destination.”
I smirk when I hear his answer.
Despite my warm boots and long coat, I gasp when another cold burst of wind hits my face. In response, he holds onto me tighter, which is fortunate for me when I slip on the snow-covered ice moments later.
My companion’s steady grip is the only thing preventing me from falling in the snow as we navigate a steep incline. When we eventually get to more level ground, he stops.
“Untie your blindfold and hand it to me.”
The scene is about to begin!
My hands tremble with excitement as I tug at the knot and pull it off. I blink several times, blinded by the bright white snow in a clearing that’s surrounded by tall pine trees.
“You will close your eyes and slowly count to a hundred after you hear the car pull away,” he explains. “Once you finish counting, you may open them and begin walking in the opposite direction of our footsteps.”
I glance back at our two sets of tracks in the snow.
“Do you understand, Miss Lane?”
Even though I’m beginning to feel a little anxious, I assure him, “I do.”
“Excellent. Now close your eyes.”
My heart starts to race when I hear the snow crunch under his feet as he walks away, and I quickly call out, “Do you have any other instructions for me?”
“Don’t stop walking.”
I giggle nervously, but then whimper when I hear the car door close and the motor start up. After the car drives away, it hits me that I’m completely alone in the woods.
Following his directions to the letter, I begin counting out loud. Anxious to begin the adventure, I struggle not to rush the count.
By the time I get to the number sixty-nine, I can no longer hear the far-off roar of the car’s engine. Being all alone in an unknown forest is far more intimidating than I imagined.
When I finally reach one hundred, I pop my eyes open and glance back at our footprints to make doubly sure that I’m headed in the right direction.
I’m seriously impressed by the masterful way Matisse has recreated the frightening experience of being lost that I described in my fantasy. As I start to walk, I realize that I have no idea how far I have to go to meet up with him.
When I notice the clouds looking darker and heavier, I increase my pace.
While I hike through the heavy snow, I begin fantasizing about the Kaelith of my youth.
Originally, my daydreams centered on a mysterious but powerful spirit who watched over me whenever I was alone or scared.
After my father’s death, he was the only one who valued me in a time when no one else seemed to notice I existed.
As I grew older, my fantasies transformed, and he became my dream lover. His lovemaking was tender but wild, and he was able to draw out the animal inside me. In Kaelith’s arms, I felt no shame for my sexuality. I was celebrated for my femininity, and I felt powerful because of it.
I get goosebumps knowing that I’m about to play out the fantasy that has held me captive for so many years. But my thoughts are soon interrupted when I slip on the ice and barely avoid a hard fall.
It forces me to slow down. I glance up nervously when I feel a sharp drop in temperature. Dark clouds have blocked out the sun, and I see a giant snowflake gently falling.
I stick out my tongue to catch it and giggle in delight when it melts on my tongue. But my excitement quickly changes to concern when more flakes start falling from the sky. Anxious to meet up with Matisse, I quicken my pace again.
Looking back to make sure I’m headed in the right direction, I slip again and fall headlong into a snowbank. Growling in frustration, I get back up and brush off the snow clinging to my coat, making my hands as cold as ice.
This fantasy of mine is beginning to feel more like a nightmare!
Suddenly gripped with fear that I’ve somehow missed our rendezvous point, I call out, “Help!”
But I only hear the silence of the forest as the large flakes come showering down at a faster pace. Afraid that I’ve strayed off course, I scream louder, “Help me!”
To my relief, I hear a faint whistle to my left. Narrowing my eyes, I can barely make out the hazy outline of a person far ahead. I march through the snow, anxious to meet up with him. But no matter how fast I walk, I can’t seem to catch up, and I eventually lose sight of him.
“Where are you?” I cry out desperately.
When I hear the whistle again, it is far off to the right. Desperate for the warmth of Matisse’s arms around me, I keep my gaze locked on him as I trudge through the thickening snow.
The moment I catch sight of the flickering flames roaring behind him, I’m filled with relief and a rush of endorphins. As scared as I was before, I’m now giddy with excitement.
When I finally walk through the dense thicket of trees surrounding the fire, I’m enveloped by the warmth of the flames.
I smile and look up at Matisse, wanting to thank him, but the words stick in my throat.
I stare at him as a shiver of fearful excitement courses down my spine. Matisse is wearing a dark green cloak just like in my fantasy, but I’m riveted by the color of his eyes. They are as dark as midnight, giving him an other worldly appearance.
However, it’s not just his eyes that leave me speechless. There is a decidedly feral energy emanating from the man that I find dangerously intoxicating.
“Come warm yourself by the fire,” he commands in a rich baritone that demands my obedience.
Struck mute, my body trembles with a mix of fear and longing when I notice the flames reflected in his dark eyes.
Matisse has perfectly captured the man I’ve dreamed of, and I find myself struggling to differentiate my fantasy from reality.
Holding my hands out to warm them by the fire, I suddenly feel nervous and shy as I sneak a glance at him.
“Keep your eyes on the flames,” he commands.
I turn back to watch the dancing flames and smile to myself when I hear the sound of liquid being poured. Matisse moves up behind me, then reached around to hand me a wooden mug full of a warm, dark liquid.
“Drink this.”
I stare down at the mysterious concoction, wondering what it is. With my hands still trembling from the cold, I lift it to my lips. The black liquid smells and tastes of caramel…although it isn’t sweet. I catch a hint of ginger and cloves as well.
“Drink all of it,” he commands in that hauntingly gruff voice.
I willingly obey him and feel my body warm all over as I swallow the hot mead. When I’m finished, I turn to thank him, but my smile freezes when I look into those eyes. Those dark contacts of his are delightfully unsettling…