Chapter 5
FIVE
ELISA
My head pounding is the first sensation I register. Throbbing, aching pain. I try to open my eyes, but the light hitting them immediately sends me spiraling. Acid burns my esophagus as a wave of nausea rolls through me.
What the hell happened to me?
I think back through everything—I was on the plane, nervous, I took some meds… then everything went black. Shit. I wonder how much time I lost? I’m definitely not on the plane anymore. Where the hell am I?
And then there was that dream. What the fuck was that dream? I can almost still taste candy canes from his— Nope. Not going there. Weird as shit monster sex dreams do not need to be rehashed. I’ll just go ahead and bury that deep down in my subconscious and pretend like it never happened.
Slowly, with excruciating energy, I peel my eyelids open. The light is blinding. It must be morning… Have I really been out for almost twenty-four hours? I blink away the pain, trying to focus my sight.
I’m in a cabin. A very basic little room in a cabin.
Four wooden walls, one small window with no curtains, a worn wooden floor, a small white dresser, a small picture I can’t make out in a golden frame on the far wall, and the bed I’m currently lying in.
That’s it. And a door. That’s everything. I don’t even see my luggage.
Fear and panic immediately twist in my gut.
I don’t even have my carry-on. I need my pills, my phone, my passport.
What the fuck am I going to do? I suddenly feel the walls of the small room closing in, as if it will get so tight in here I won’t be able to take a full breath.
My lungs tighten, my throat starts to close, my palms sweat.
And then there’s a knock at the door.
“Are you awake yet?” a man calls from the other side.
A man? What happened? I was supposed to be meeting Anna, a female student in Oslo, and staying with her. That deep voice doesn’t sound like an Anna, and this cabin doesn’t scream Oslo dorm.
Another knock. This time firmer.
I jump. The aggressive noise sends my nerves skittering.
I leap from the bed and cross the room in a few steps.
Hesitantly, my hand reaches for the brass knob.
No locks. Something about that makes me even more nervous.
With shaking fingers, I grip the knob and turn slowly.
Pulling the door back just a few inches, I peek through the crack.
“Hello?” I whisper tentatively.
On the other side is a man. I’d guess he’s in his mid-twenties.
He’s tall and muscular but in an athletic, not bulky way.
A strong square jaw, free of stubble, and high cheekbones give him an attractive edge.
He has pale blonde hair that has been styled back away from his face.
Full lips are spread into a small smile that shows his white teeth.
All of him is well-groomed, attractive, and appealing.
But his eyes are dark. Something sinister gleams in his irises.
I recoil slightly.
“Good morning,” he greets. His tone seems kind. Maybe I’m just out of sorts because of the whole blacking out thing.
“Morning,” I offer as politely as possible. It comes out rough due to my dry throat. “You’re not Anna?”
It’s a stupid question, I realize. This Scandinavian male stereotype is certainly not Anna. But everything still feels fuzzy, as if my mind is wading through quicksand. Luckily, he smiles, a silent chuckle shaking his muscular chest.
“No. I am most certainly not Anna,” he replies.
My brows pinch in confusion. Who is then? How’d I get here?
“I’m Hans.” He tries to hold out a hand for me to shake, but I draw back further. He seems to get the memo and withdraws his outstretched arm. “Anna’s brother. Do you not remember last night at all?”
Embarrassment flushes my cheeks and I divert my eyes to the ground. Did I meet him last night and I was just so messed up on pills that I don’t remember? That lady said she was giving me children’s sleeping pills… What if she lied to me? What type of mom would do that, though?
“Shit. You don’t,” he continues when I don’t respond.
I glance up to see him rubbing the back of his neck uncontrollably as if embarrassed for me.
“Anna is finishing the last of her exams. This is our family’s winter cabin.
You and I drove up last night after we picked you up from the airport.
My parents and sister are coming later this week.
Sorry. I mean, you seemed out of it but I didn’t think—I thought it was just jet lag or something…
” He trails off, clearly uncomfortable with being stuck with a strange American who was so high she doesn’t even remember anything.
Damn it. What a mess.
“No, I’m sorry,” I begin to explain. “I get nervous about flying. I took something to calm my nerves. I must have accidentally taken too much.” He doesn’t need the full story. Plus, I feel so stupid admitting I took random pills from a stranger on a plane.
“Oh, I’m sorry we didn’t think to let you rest in Oslo for the night. You seemed okay to coming up with us—“
“No!” I interrupt, causing him to flinch. Fuck, I’m totally messing this up. “Sorry, I mean, no it’s good. I actually prefer being outside the city.”
He smiles. A soft, genuine pull at the corner of his lips lights up his face. I can’t deny that he’s attractive.
“Good.” He reaches out, tentatively, and pushes a lock of fallen hair behind my ear. My stomach whoops at the contact. “We want to make your stay as comfortable as possible.”
Something about his words rattles something in my subconscious, making me slightly uncomfortable. But I push it aside. I’m just tired and overreacting. He’s being nice. Very nice.
“Maybe I could get dressed and you could show me around a bit?” I ask.
His face lights up. His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. I trace the path with my eyes.
“Unfortunately, your luggage was lost. They’re delivering it to my parents who will bring it when they come up later in the week,” he states as if it’s fine.
But it’s definitely not fine. I feel bile rising in my throat. I need my carry-on bag at least. I clutch my chest where the strap should be anxiously.
“My carry-on?” I ask hopefully. Surely I carried it off and it’s just in the living room or something.
“Yes, unfortunately, you didn’t carry anything off the plane with you, but the airline called when they found your identification. They’ll deliver it with your lost luggage,” he explains to me.
Immediately, relief fills my chest. I’ll have all my things soon. Just knowing they’re on their way to me has some of my anxiety unfurling from my core. But how would the airlines know that I’m staying here?
“Anyway, I’m heading out this afternoon, but I can show you around before then if you’d like? There are clothes in the dresser. Use whatever you’d like, and when you’re ready, I’ll make some breakfast.” His eyes flick down to my chest just for a moment. My cheeks heat.
“Thank you. I’ll be out in just a moment. The bathroom?”
“Right across the hall.” He motions to a door behind him.
Then, with a final smile and nod, he heads down the hallway and disappears. The smell of food wafts down to where I’m standing and my stomach growls loudly.
After a quick bathroom stop to pee and run water over my face, I return to my room and firmly close the door.
Hans seems nice enough, but this whole situation is just…
odd. Passing out, my strange erotic monster dream, waking up here with an unknown man, my stuff being all lost—it’s just been a long few days.
I’m desperate to reach out and check in with anyone from back home but I don’t even have my phone.
I’m literally stranded in the woods with a stranger. Happy fucking holidays to me.
Pulling open a drawer from the dresser, I assess my options.
I wonder whose clothes these are? There’s a lot of white.
A lot of pink. Yikes. Rummaging through to the bottom, I manage to find a blue sweater dress and some tights that look like they might work.
It screams ‘I’m a tourist who bought this in a Scandinavian gift shop’ but as I slip the fabric over my cami, the soft, warm knit is too comfortable for me to care much.
I move to go fix my hair and makeup next, but no bag means no make up, no brush. Hell, I don’t even have a toothbrush.
With a frustrated sigh, I decide to just get this over with. With each step down the hallway, the smell of bacon becomes stronger and stronger. A beacon of bacon calling me towards comfort.
I must be hungry, I’m talking nonsense to myself in my head.
I round the corner and am met with the rest of the cabin.
The back half is very closed off—essentially a hallway full of doors to small rooms. But the main area is open concept, though still pretty small.
A small basic kitchen is in the front right corner with a peninsula that looks out to an eating area.
Between the two spaces is a door to what I assume is the garage.
On the left side of the door, the wall is mostly open windows overlooking the snowy forest outside.
There’s a fireplace along the adjoining wall with bookshelves framing it and a few well-worn couches.
It’s quaint, cozy. The view to the outside is phenomenal, though—crisp white snow, evergreen trees dusted in powder, and open sky as far as you can see.
“Come eat,” Hans offers cheerily, pulling me from my thoughts.
He places two plates of food on the table and I pad across the brown plush carpet to sit.
Eggs, bacon, and toast stare at me from the plate.
Not very traditional Scandinavian but I’m so hungry that I’d probably eat anything right now.
The first bite of bacon is so disgustingly delicious, I damn near groan.
It’s not as crispy as I’d like but it doesn’t even matter.
“I figured you’d like a nice American breakfast,” Hans comments and I realize he’s been staring at me. His plate remains completely untouched, his hands steepled above his dish and his dark eyes are honed squarely on me.
I swallow slowly and place my bacon back down on my plate, meeting his gaze. “So when will your sister be getting in?”
Something ticks in his face as if the question annoys him. “Not for another day or two.” My stomach rolls with unease at his words but I swallow it down. “I do have to run into town after our meal, though. We’re low on a few supplies.”
Low on supplies? Didn’t we just get here?
“Can I come with you?” I ask hopefully. Seeing some other people and getting out of the isolation of the woods might make this feel less unnerving.
“No, princess.” He smiles in a way that I think is meant to be sweet, but paired with the nickname, it makes me want to kick him swiftly in the balls.
“You must stay here, I’m afraid.” He seems to see the disappointment on my face and hastily adds, “But next time I’ll bring you into town with me, I promise. ”
I must give him a look that betrays my growing unease because his smile suddenly distorts into a scowl. He glares at me as if he’s angry. I shift uncomfortably in my wooden seat.
We eat the rest of the meal in silence, my unease growing with every moment. When I chance a glance up, I notice small crystals of ice forming on the glass of the window panes. A shiver runs down my spine, but I’m not sure it’s entirely from the cold.