Chapter 3
Raven
I'd been reviewing last night's footage for two hours when I heard Shane moving around downstairs. I knew it was him because he was cussing something out under his breath.
My night vision cameras had captured plenty of atmospheric shots—shadows moving across empty hallways, and the wind making doors creak.. Perfect content for my subscribers.
But they'd also captured something else.
Around three in the morning, clear footsteps on the floor above me.
Then, twenty minutes later, the same footsteps below.
And throughout it all, that eerie humming—Walt's voice singing Christmas carols, but with that strange harmonic undertone my audio equipment kept picking up. At least I wasn’t going crazy. I had proof of the noises.
I pulled off my headphones as the smell of coffee hit my senses better than an alarm clock.
When I entered the kitchen area, he was standing at a camping stove, his back to me, and the sight made me pause.
He'd taken off his jacket, leaving him in just a black t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and back.
"Morning," I said.
He turned, and his eyes immediately tracked down my body. His gaze lingered on my neck, my collarbone, the exposed skin at my throat, and passion blazed through me at the naked hunger in his expression before he shuttered it.
"You're up." His voice was scratchy, like he hadn't been sleeping well. "Walt already had breakfast and his morning meds. He's inspecting the old ski lifts. Thinks they need maintenance before the season opens."
"Is that safe?"
"Yeah, he just looks at them." Shane poured coffee into a battered metal cup and held it out. "Black okay?"
"Perfect." I took the cup, and when our fingers brushed, electricity shot up my arm. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary, his thumb grazing my knuckles, before he pulled back.
The silence stretched between us, charged and weighted. His eyes kept dropping to my mouth before jerking away.
"You look tired," I said.
"Didn't sleep much." His jaw clenched. "Had to keep checking on Walt. He wanders at night."
"I heard footsteps. Above me, then below. Was that him?"
"Probably. Or the building settling. Hard to tell the difference sometimes. Did your equipment picked up anything unusual?" He moved closer.
"Depends on your definition of unusual." I held my ground even though my pulse kicked up. "Lots of creepy atmosphere. Some sounds I can't quite explain. But nothing definitively supernatural."
"Good." He was close enough now that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Because there are no ghosts here. Just an old man who can't let go of the past, and a building that's falling apart around him."
"And you,” I said, touching his arm. "Taking care of both of them."
His eyes darkened. "Someone has to."
"That doesn't mean it has to be only you."
"Doesn't it?" His voice dropped low and intimate. "You'll be gone in a week. Back to your subscribers and your next abandoned building. I'm the one who stays."
The truth of it hung between us. I would leave. That was the deal. But standing here with him looming over me, feeling the intensity of his gaze, the thought of leaving in six days made something twist in my chest. I didn’t want to leave here without getting to know him better.
"Then let me do what I can while I'm here to make things easier," I said.
His hand came up slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I didn't, his fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the touch gentle despite the size of his hand. His thumb grazed my cheekbone, and I bit back a whimper.
"You have no idea what you're offering," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Then tell me."
His thumb traced my lower lip, the touch making my whole body shiver. "I'm not good at accepting help. Not good at letting people in. And when I do let someone in, I don't do it halfway. I'm all or nothing. And you don't want all of me."
"Why not?"
"Because all of me is possessive and demanding." His hand moved to cup the back of my neck. "Because once I claim something as mine, I don't let go. Ever."
My toes tingled at the dark promise in his words. "Maybe I wouldn’t want you to let go."
His grip on my neck tightened fractionally, not painful but definitely possessive.
"Dangerous words," he growled.
Before I could respond, Walt cheerfully humming "Deck the Halls" reached us as he came closer.
Shane pulled back abruptly, his hand falling away, leaving me cold and aching. I wanted more. I wanted to grab him and pull him back. I wanted him to kiss me.
"Get your camera equipment," he said. "I'll show you the areas you can film. But you stay where I can see you. Understood?"
The command in his voice shouldn't have made my stomach flip. Shouldn't have made me wet. But it did.
"Understood," I managed.
"Good girl."
The words were a caress and a claim all at once, and from the dark satisfaction that flashed across his face, he knew exactly what effect they had on me.
I followed Shane down the lodge's main corridor. Shane pointed out weak floorboards, exposed nails, sections where the ceiling looked ready to collapse. His protective vigilance should have felt overbearing. Instead, it made me feel safe. Cherished.
"The old pool area is in here," he said, pushing open a set of double doors. "Indoor pool, sauna, hot tubs. All empty now, but the tile work is still intact. Should give you good visuals."
The pool room was stunning in its decay. Art deco tile covered the walls in geometric patterns, now cracked and water-stained. The empty pool itself was a concrete cavern filled with leaves and debris. Late morning light filtered through broken skylights, creating dramatic shadows.
"This is perfect," I breathed, already composing shots in my mind. "The light, the shadows—my subscribers are going to love this."
I adjusted the settings of my camera as I moved around the space. Shane watched from the doorway, arms crossed, his massive frame blocking the only exit.
"You really love this," he observed. "Exploring abandoned places."
"I do." I framed a shot of the empty pool, the way shadows pooled at the bottom like dark water. "There's something honest about decay. No pretense. No hiding what it is."
"Is that what you're running from? Pretense?"
The question caught me off guard. I lowered my camera, turning to face him. "What makes you think I'm running?"
"Because I recognize it." He moved into the room, his footsteps echoing off tile. "The way you travel alone, never staying anywhere long. The online persona that's probably nothing like the real you."
"Maybe I just like my job."
"Maybe." He was getting closer, eating up the distance between us with long strides. "Or maybe you're just as broken as the places you explore. Just as abandoned."
The words hit deeper than they should have. "That's not nice."
"Your grandmother," he said, and I froze.
"You mentioned she had Alzheimer's. But it's more than that, isn't it?
You weren't just helping care for her. You lost her.
" He was right in front of me now, close enough to touch.
"You're not just documenting abandoned places.
You're trying to make peace with loss itself. "
"You don't know anything about me," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
"Don't I?" His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone. "I know you're running from something that hurt you. I know you use your camera as a shield, your online persona as armor. I know you're just as lonely as I am, even if you pretend otherwise."
I hadn’t been prepared for this, prepared for him to be both sexy and caring. Tears stung my eyes. "Shane—"
"Tell me about her," his voice gentled. "Your grandmother."
"She raised me,” I said brokenly. "My parents weren't around. They had other things to do. So Gran took me in when I was eight. She was everything—my mom, my best friend, my whole world."
Shane's other hand came up, framing my face with both his huge palms. "And the Alzheimer's took her from you slowly."
"For three years, I watched her disappear.
Watched her forget my name, forget who I was, forget everything we'd shared together.
" The tears spilled over. "By the end, she thought I was her sister who'd died in 1962.
And I played along. Pretended to be someone else because it made her happy. But it killed me inside."
"Raven." He wiped my tears away with his thumbs, and the gentleness from such a large, dangerous man made me cry harder. "You gave her comfort. That's not nothing."
"But I lost her years before she actually died. And I keep thinking if I document enough abandoned places, if I tell enough forgotten stories, maybe I can make up for all the stories she forgot. All the memories that disappeared with her."
"That's why you're so good with Walt," Shane said. "You've been here before. You know how to navigate this world."
"I wish to hell I didn’t," I said. "I hate watching someone I care about slip away into a past that doesn't exist anymore. But I'm good at it because I had years of practice."
"I'm sorry." His forehead came down to rest against mine. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm sorry you're going through it again with Walt."
"He's worth it," I said. "Just like Gran was worth it. Even when it hurts."
We stood like that for a long moment, breathing together, his hands on my face the only thing anchoring me. When I finally looked up at him, his silver eyes were blazing with a deep emotion I hadn’t been expecting.
"Shane," I whispered.
"Tell me to stop,” he gritted out. "Tell me this is a bad idea and I'll walk away right now."
"I don’t want to."
One moment we were standing apart, the next his mouth crashed down on mine with desperate hunger. His kiss was everything I'd imagined and nothing I was prepared for—demanding, consuming, claiming me in a way that made my knees go weak.