Chapter 2
2
Anya
T wo days go by in a thinning haze.
My body needs time to recover from what was clearly a violent shock. My head still hurts, though the pounding has begun to subside. There’s still a dull throbbing in my side, but with some proper breathing, I’m able to suffer less as I manage to move on my own.
My past, however, remains a mystery.
And the brothers who took me in, the dangerously dashing men who are nursing me back to health, are evasive. They insist on letting the memories come back on their own. More often than not, I end up agreeing because my brain splits when I dig deeper.
“I can’t see anything,” I tell Chance as I make my way to the window.
He’s midway into changing the bed linens. “It’ll take a while to clear all that snow,” he says, spreading the clean fitted sheet over the mattress. “From the looks of it, the blizzard will go on through Sunday, like they predicted.”
“Let me help.” I turn around a little too fast and come to a sudden halt.
“Or maybe take it easy,” he replies, giving me a worried look.
“I’m okay.” I sigh deeply. “Still woozy.”
“Please, don’t rush the healing process. Without access to a hospital or medical supplies beyond what we have in our medicine cabinet and first-aid kit, we can’t risk you making things worse for yourself. We’re stuck here, I’m afraid. With each other.”
Sitting in the chair next to the bed, I let my shoulders slump. “That’s not what bothers me. I have nothing but gratitude for everything you and your brothers have done for me.”
“Don’t mention it; I wish we could do more.”
“My brain is my enemy right now, and I don’t understand how any of this happened.”
“That was quite the conk on the head,” Chance mutters, stealing another glance at me as he slips on the pillowcases. I let my gaze wander, noticing the fine white linen fabric, the blue stitched flowers that adorn the edge of the cover and the pillowcases. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“Still, what was I doing out here?” I pause, the skyscrapers coming back to the forefront of my consciousness. Skyscrapers and a statue. A giant statue holding a torch, gazing out at the ocean. “New York,” I add with a gasp.
Chance stills, narrowing his green eyes at me.
“Am I from New York?” I ask, my voice trembling. It sounds right in my head. “There’s a brownstone… a narrow street on a block somewhere. It looks familiar.”
“Is there a magnolia tree in front of it?” he replies, almost holding his breath.
Giant pink petals falling. Every spring.
“Yes. There’s a little green space right in front of the building, before the sidewalk begins,” I say, letting my mind work through the image. Every time I let the memory unfold without me forcing myself to gather information, the details emerge on their own. “A big magnolia tree on one side and rose bushes on the other.”
I hear children laughing and cheering.
A tall boy with platinum-blonde hair and blue eyes like mine. A warm and reassuring smile. Throw the ball, Anya. Come on! he tells me. I giggle and throw it at him. It’s a baseball with red stitches along the grooves. I’m holding a pitcher’s glove.
So is he. The boy with eyes like mine.
Throw it back, Aleks!
“Aleks,” I say, staring at Chance. Or straight through him. I’m not sure. My fingers and toes tingle, ever so slightly. “My brother, Aleks.”
The view before me shifts. By the time I realize what’s happening, Chance has dashed across the room, landing on his knees to reach me before I fall. I’m startled by my own reaction and sit up straight with a huff.
“You’re okay,” he says, his tone gentle.
“It’ll take a while for this noggin to get back to normal, I suppose.”
“But you’re remembering, which is a good thing,” Chance replies. “That brownstone is where you and your brother grew up.”
“I figured that much. In New York. I’m from New York.”
He smiles, and the way his lips stretch, drawing dimples underneath his brown and subtle grey stubble, leaves me breathless. I’ve had nothing but time to observe the brothers, to notice the little things and the big things with equal, growing interest. Chance and Booker are twins, for example. Almost identical.
“Yes, you are,” Chance says. “This is progress, Anya.”
“You were there, weren’t you?” I ask. “In New York.”
“We practically grew up together. We lived on the same block before my brothers and I joined the Navy.”
I nod once, feeling my senses gradually return. “You were in the Navy.”
“Wait, you remember that?” he raises an eyebrow.
“No. Not yet.”
“Nevertheless, it’s progress.”
We’re a little too close to one another. His hot breath tickles my face. I catch a whiff of coffee and mint. His cologne makes me lightheaded, but in a different way. My skin sizzles when he or his brothers change my dressings or to help me eat or anything else I can’t quite do on my own without crying out in pain just yet.
I’m not indifferent to any of them.
On the contrary.
And it’s concerning.
“I think I need a hot bath,” I decree, deciding to distract myself with something.
“There’s hot water running,” Chance says. “The central heating system is working well so far. We also have an electric backup boiler, just in case.”
I’m impressed. “Wow, you really turned this lodge into a home away from home.”
“It has been our home for almost five years, now,” he replies. “We fitted the lodge with every comfort and amenity a city apartment could offer. And given the extreme weather events in the region, we went the extra mile to make sure we’d never be caught unprepared or unprotected.”
Nodding slowly, I rise from my chair.
Chance stays close, hands out and ready to catch me, but I appreciate the way he lets me do things on my own before he intervenes. This man may be swift at taking control of a situation, but he, much like his brothers, respects my desire for autonomy.
He asks, “Still lightheaded?”
“No. Not right now.”
“Head into the bathroom, then. I’ll be here if you need my help,” he replies. “I’ll get you a pair of pants and a sweatshirt from the dresser. Our cousin visited us last winter. She left some stuff behind. I washed it and stored it for her. She’s about your size, so they should fit well.”
I stare down at myself.My figure is curvy, my hips and breasts are big. Plenty of meat on these bones, and I’m feeling rather self-conscious all of a sudden. Where is this coming from?
“Are you sure?” I hear myself asking.
Chance gives me a long, heavy look. “I’m positive.”
I leave him in the bedroom as I make my way into the en-suite bathroom. The tub is almost singing to me as I stare at it for a moment. Slowly but surely, I turn the faucet on and let the hot water fill up as I peel the clothes off my battered body. Not delighted with the smell, I toss everything into the hamper and breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of a shower gel bottle on the edge of the tub.
“Okay. You’ve got this,” I say to myself as I stop by the mirror first.
The bandages on my head need to come off. Chance will help me with fresh ones, but first, I need to see what I’m dealing with. Wincing from the sting, I reveal my temple, gasping at the sight of an ugly bruise smack in the middle of a healing gash.
“Oh, that’ll leave a scar,” I whisper.
That’s the least of my concerns, though. Most of my right side sports bruises, gradually turning from reddish purple to a mix of blue and green. Everything else is closed up, nice and clean, courtesy of the mountain men and their excellent care.
I make sure to hold on to the wall-mounted towel rack as I climb into the tub and lower myself into the hot water.
“Lord, have mercy,” I gasp as the warmth seeps through my very soul and plucks away at my discomfort, one deep breath at a time.
Before long, I’ve added a few drops of bath oils into the mix, and I’m soaking in the hot, steaming goodness. My muscles relax as I give myself a few minutes before I start scrubbing the nightmare out of my skin.
A knock on the door makes me sit up.
“Are you okay in there?” Chance asks from the bedroom.
“Yes, just enjoying a soak.”
“Good. I’m right here if you need me.”
“Thank you! Oh, by the way, where are your brothers? I haven’t seen them today.”
A beat passes before Chance answers. “They’re downstairs. Nico is probably asleep but judging by the smell coming from the kitchen, Booker is handling lunch today.”
“There’s no way we’re getting out of here today or tomorrow, right?”
“I’m afraid not. We need to wait for the snowstorm to pass, but I’m going out on the porch in a bit to clear some of the snow off. We need to be able to open the door and the windows, at least.”
“I see…”
Minutes flow as Chance keeps me company through the door. We talk about past blizzards and how they survived each extreme event, about the protocols they have in place as I bathe.
“I didn’t peg you guys for the floral shower gel type,” I chuckle as I try to get up from the bathtub. “Shit!”
Either my foot slips or I lose my balance, but I land on my ass with an embarrassing thud.
A split second later, the bathroom door swings open and Chance rushes in. “Are you okay?” he asks, his breath short and his brow furrowed with worry.
“Yeah,” I gasp and bring my knees up to cover a rather vulnerable position.
“Sorry,” he stops and points to the towel rack before he turns his back on me. “You’ve got towels there.”
“I think I slipped,” I groan, my buttocks burning.
The tub is drained, and my ego is deeply wounded, but I manage to grab a towel and cover myself to the best of my ability.
“Are you hurt?” he asks.
“Just my pride on top of what I sustained in the car crash, I guess.”
He chuckles softly. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll help you out of the tub.”
“I feel like an invalid. So frickin’ helpless,” I grumble.
“It’s temporary.”
“It’s undignified, is what it is.”
Chance shakes his head slowly. “You sound just like him.”
“Who?”
“Aleks,” he says, his voice fading.
I glance down, content to be wrapped in plush grey cotton. My hair is wet but squeaky clean. My ass hurts less. I might as well get out. “I’m ready,” I tell Chance.
He turns to face me, his expression warm as he takes both hands to help me up. “One step at a time”
“Nice and easy, yeah I get it,” I quip in a bid to lighten the mood.
Our gazes lock for a single, devastating second. I’m well aware that I’m naked underneath this towel. I’m well aware of the last rolls of steam still rising around us from the hot bath. And I’m well aware of the muted tension between us. It’s something I can’t quite describe with words but makes me abandon my common sense altogether.
“You’ve got this,” Chance tells me. His voice sounds different.
Lower. Thicker. A shadow settles over the wild forests in his eyes.
And then I feel it slipping.
The towel.
Oh, crap.
His gaze drops. My heart stops.
“I’m so sorry,” Chance whispers, somehow mustering the strength to look up again.
“No, I… I apologize.”
“Nothing to apologize for, Anya.”
Yet I feel… rejected. I shouldn’t. He’s being chivalrous, but I see the desire in his eyes. It burns through me, too. He won’t act on it. The strength, the restraint, just makes him even hotter.
“Can you stand?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“Yes.”
“I’ll give you some privacy then.”
He turns away, but I cannot stand the sight of him walking away from me. Something screams at me from within, tells me I’m not skinny or pretty enough for a guy like him. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but it makes me angry.
“Wait,” I say and catch his wrist before he’s out of my reach.
Chance stops and turns as I pull him back.
I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. My wet, naked body crashes into him, and he catches me. All of sweet hell breaks loose. Control is lost. Both of our minds are lost as our lips meet, our tongues clash, and a ravenous hunger takes over.
He growls, and I feel his hard cock twitching against my belly.
“Anya,” Chance manages, but I don’t give him room to breathe.
I hold him close, my breasts pressed against his muscular chest, water still dripping and seeping through his green flannel shirt. He can’t resist. His hands roam up and down my back, fingers ultimately settling on my hips. They dig in. I gasp and pause to look up at him.
He can tell. Before I can hesitate, before I can say anything, he can tell.
“Who made you believe you’re not beautiful?” he whispers.
“I don’t know. How can you tell?”
“From the way you slouch when I look at you in all of your naked splendor. Anya… I can’t let you think… Ah, fuck,” he groans and kisses me again.
This time, he is feral. Possessive. Determined to dismantle me, and I let him.
Before I can object, he lifts me out of the tub and carries me into the bedroom, his mouth making love to mine. Liquid heat gathers between my legs as he sets me on the bed and pins me against the mattress with his massive frame.
I whimper as our eyes lock on each other.
We’re past the point of no return, now, our bodies taking over as reason falls away.
I let it happen.
“So much for me to enjoy here,” Chance whispers in my ear, fondling my breasts as he trails wet kisses down the side of my neck.
“This is crazy,” I manage, though I won’t do a thing to stop it. Instead, my legs spread wider as he makes his way downward.
I want to take his shirt off, but he takes my hands and guides them to my puckered nipples. “Touch yourself, Anya. Love every inch,” he commands.
And I shyly obey.
He loves to watch, a smile curling his lips, but he doesn’t linger. Instead, he takes hold of my knees and lifts my legs so he can dive right in. “Oh, God,” I gasp as his tongue slides between my wet folds. My clit swells, a billion nerve endings coming alive at once.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” Chance says, then laps at my wet pussy, his tongue flicking until the pressure in my womb becomes unbearable.
My pulse races as I feel two fingers penetrating me. He thrusts them deep and locks his lips around my clit.
“Don’t stop!” I manage as he suckles the tender nub, harder and harder, while his fingers curl with every retreating motion. He finger-fucks me out of this world, and it seems to go on for a wonderful forever until I finally let go.
I come gushing, rippling outward like an exploding star.
“Oh, yes!” I cry out, shuddering and twitching as if lightning jolts straight through my body, dismantling and rebuilding me into a whole new woman.
“That’s it,” Chance whispers, drinking every drop of me and licking me clean.
It takes a while for me to come down from the heavens. I forgot all about my soreness and my bruises. I forgot about everything, even the few bits that had just started to come back.
Deep breath , I tell myself as I bask in a slow-melting afterglow.
Outside, the blizzard rages on, but inside… it’s warm and toasty. It smells of Chance and me having done the unthinkable.
My cheeks burn.
He comes up to kiss me softly on the lips. “You’re one hell of a woman, Anya. Whoever told you differently is going to have to answer to me. To us.”
“I don’t remember who told me what, though,” I whisper.
“It’ll come back on its own.” He drops another kiss on my lips. “Get under the covers. You’re tired.”
“I want to sleep,” I mumble, already drifting away.
His scent is intoxicating.
“You’ll find clothes on the chair when you’re ready. I’ll be right here, Anya.”
His voice soothes me. I wish I could keep my eyes open, but what Chance just did… Holy hell, it knocked me right out. I welcome the heavy slumber; I welcome this kind of simmering exhaustion. I welcome the tightness in my womb and the melting sensation that spreads through my muscles.
For the first time since I came to in that mangled car, I welcome the darkness taking over.