Chapter Three
I slept for thirteen fucking hours, and I swore the unintended coma healed some parts of me. I hadn’t passed out that hard since I’d last taken some cold medicine a few years ago.
I woke the next morning feeling refreshed, if not a little sore from the drive and abundance of sleep. It wasn’t snowy yet, and the forest had a mist around it. I could’ve sworn I saw a man standing in it and staring at me, something protruding from his head.
Was I hallucinating? Was it a deer and I was just at a weird angle?
I continued to squint out the window by the couch. I inched closer until the cool pane clanged against my forehead, jolting me out of my stupidity. I rubbed my head, feeling foolish. Once the shock wore off, I looked back at the forest, only to see fog thickening around the trees. My brain was clearly trying to make sense of the shapes and figures.
I dug into my stack of books, reading a cozy mystery and devouring some yummy oatmeal for breakfast. I’d brought a Bluetooth speaker and I’d had the foresight to download some music beforehand, so I spent the better half of the afternoon belting along with my playlists while crocheting a throw blanket. I had leftover yarn that was mostly brown, in shades of chestnut, mocha, and ochre. It looked nice and earthy, and I couldn’t wait to put it on my reading chair back home. While I’d had foresight for music and crocheting, I was kicking myself for not bringing much to celebrate, aside from a fake tree and some of my favorite ornaments.
After dinner, I took a shower, grateful it helped me feel all cleaned up after ending my period. Maybe it was the early sunset, but I found myself retiring early once more. I slathered lotion all over my body and fanned my wet hair over my shoulders so the fire could dry it as much as possible before I crawled into bed.
The next morning, I woke up to the mist again. Not fog, per se, and definitely not snow, but silky mist. This time, I committed to spying on the forest out the window again. I barely peeked past the drapes, fighting to stay mostly concealed.
As more rays of dawn attempted to light the undergrowth, the vapor swirled between the pine trees that were navy outlines. My eyes sliced to the clock on the stove. It was 7:30 am. I held my breath until I saw what looked like a tree branch, then more and more of the mist morphed, revealing one antler, then two. I knew deer usually had eight to ten points, indicating the buck’s maturity, but these were . . . different.
Instead of the light tan color of antlers, these were dark, like wet wood. And unlike the usual inward curve of racks, these splayed out, proudly arching skyward in intricate twists and tips. My eyes followed to where the antlers joined, and instead of it being at the long head of a white-tail deer, it was . . . a man?
Not just any man. He was tall—even without the antlers, he must’ve been well over six feet, with wide shoulders draped in a cloak that concealed the rest of him. My heart knocked in my ears as I held in a panicked gasp as more of the mist cleared. He was close enough I could make out the outline of his body. And certainly close enough to watch as he opened the cloak, only to turn his muscular build at an angle, displaying something I wasn’t expecting.
A giant cock protruded from his body. Big and stiff enough that I could see negative space between it and his torso before it curved up.
My mouth went instantly dry as I stared at the outline of his profile and how his antlers tore at the fog. Was it terror? Was it desire? I didn’t know.
I clung to the curtain as I watched the man boldly pose, bending his back leg slightly, his foot resting on a rock. And, oh god, did he look powerful and otherworldly, not at all creepy or menacing. Maybe it was the brawny shoulders, or perhaps it was the mystery of the mist enveloping him, but I was completely entranced.
Questioning my sanity, I licked my lips and adjusted the white thermal shirt that hung over my now tender breasts. All I could do was watch, transfixed, as he took a hand and boldly pumped his shaft. With each stroke, he’d tilt his head slightly as if to say you see?
My fingernails dug into the fabric as I held it for dear life as he continued. “Yes,” I hissed, feeling emboldened.
Was I making him aroused?
With my muttered encouragement, he stood his ground, quickening his motions until an eruption spurted from where his hand encircled his flesh.
“Dear god, that looked like a lot of cum,” I whispered to myself, ducking to hide more behind the curtain.
A pressure filled my head, like when you wanted your ears to pop in an airplane. I squeezed my eyes shut and planted a hand on the wall of the log cabin, coming to terms with the idea that I might be off my rocker.
I’d heard when you were having a panic attack, you should name things you could perceive with your senses. I’d also heard when you were having a stroke, you were supposed to recite undeniable truths. I morphed them all together, figuring it was worth a shot.
“I feel the hardwood floor underneath my furry slippers. I smell the butternut squash soup I had for dinner last night. I can feel the cool air on my skin,” I chanted to myself. “Your name is Shea Montgomery. You’re a Pisces sun, Virgo moon, Taurus rising. You were born and raised in Connecticut. You love pistachio ice cream, and you have an older brother named Fallon. You couldn’t stand the latest winner of Survivor . Six plus six is twelve.”
The pressure in my head subsided. Daring a peek through the crack of my eyes, I let out a relieved laugh. The mist had cleared, only to reveal a buck with a couple does looking in the opposite direction of the cabin.
“Good heavens, Shea! Get your shit together,” I said to myself, shaking my head.
Maybe it had been the buck. Maybe it had been a rogue tree branch and some rain that had somehow looked like semen. I didn’t know. But the sight in front of me now was so pedestrian, not at all peculiar. I took it as a sign that I needed to go into town today. Was it a bit early for a check-in with my aunt? Sure. I had only been at the cabin for two days, but I clearly needed to ease into isolation.
I went about my morning and prepared to leave for the store by early afternoon. The world around me was all green and gray. On my way to the Isuzu, a fleck of red caught my attention. There was nothing alive enough to be red in the forest, so I was surprised to see a splash of color in the trees.
Fetching the small axe, I secured my bag across my body and walked into the woods. In between two pines, in a slight clearing, I found a robust holly bush. I shifted the beanie on my head, trying to recall it being there before. Holly wasn’t unheard of in Maine. I looked back to the cabin to get my bearings, only to correlate it was the spot where the deer had been this morning.
“Mmm, maybe they were eating the berries?” I mused to myself, impressed by the color and precision of the leaves as each swoop met at a point on the edges. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to cut a little, you know, for décor?”
I was hoping to find decorations at the store anyways, and the real thing for free was always better. Without a second thought, I hacked some branches off and brought them back into the cabin, setting them on the mantle above the fireplace before I left once more.
When I made it to town, I called Asteria but got her voicemail. She had an office job, so I was sure she was just busy. I left her a voicemail explaining I’d run to town earlier than I planned for holiday décor and that I was totally fine and not to worry one bit.
The store was uneventful until I left. I was heaving a couple of tote bags of groceries into my back seat on the driver’s side. A box of tea fell out onto the floor of my car, so I bent over to grab it. It was all good until I felt something press against my ass.
I yelped, turning around only to see a man pulling a cart away before shoving it into the return stall I was parked next to. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was extremely deep and gravelly. I stood there, straightening from where I bent over, wanting to hear it again. “Are you okay?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he furrowed his brows as he leaned forward slightly. “Bonjour?”
“I speak English,” I barked, dying of embarrassment the second it happened. Where was my volume control?
“Sorry, you never know this close to the Canadian border.”
“Right,” I said, propping my car door wider. I couldn’t get over his voice. It was pure baritone.
From where he stood, he was much taller than me, with dusky tan skin and a mane of dark, tousled curls most people would need to spend lifetimes at a beach to maintain. His hair grew past his shoulders without a hint of frizz. A thick beard framed his face, hanging slightly off his chin, complemented by dark pink, pouty lips and high-cut cheekbones.
Handsomeness aside, something felt slightly offbeat about him. Like he was out of place. Maybe he wasn’t from here? Maybe he didn’t look his age? Something . . .
“Dianus.” He outstretched a large hand.
I moved my keys to shake it. “Diana?” I asked in confusion.
His lips twitched in good humor. “Close. Die-anne-nus .”
“Dianus,” I said with more certainty. “That’s a cool name. How did your parents come up with it?”
His lashes fanned in a slow blink. “Who knows? It has been so long. And yours?”
“My what?”
“Your name, darling.”
“Oh, it’s Shea. Like the butter.”
His eyes darted to my lips then back up. “Pretty.”
“Thank you.” I shrugged. “It’s easy to pronounce.”
“I was not talking about your name, but sure, yes, it is a good name.”
I could’ve sworn I heard him mumble, “It is easy to moan,” but it was so quick, I wasn’t certain.
Not letting a single second hang in awkwardness, Dianus’s amber eyes shot pointedly at the tote bags of groceries in my car. “Looks like you are ready for festivities.”
I grabbed the neck of the mead bottle, wondering if it was a cry for help to drink alone during Yule. Probably. “It was with the holiday display. It, um, looked kinda cool.” I chanced another look at him. For some reason, my instincts told me not to gawk for too long. “Did you need something? Am I in your way?”
“No, sorry to bother you. My apologies again for running into you with my cart. I hope I did not hurt your . . .” He gestured vaguely at my hip.
“My ass is fine.” I froze in horror at what stupid shit had just fallen out of my mouth.
Dianus rolled his lips together, hiding whatever reaction he had, settling on a single nod instead as he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and backed away from me.
I hopped in my SUV and cranked the engine on, Celtic Christmas music jolting me backwards in the process. Wishing I could rewind time, I turned the music way down and reversed out of my parking spot.
God dammit, I’d fled to one of the most remote parts of America to hide out and I still had a guy up my ass. I just wanted to be left alone.
I grumbled about it as I exited the parking lot. Right before I turned to leave, I checked my review mirror just in time to catch Dianus glancing over his shoulder from where he was walking back to the store.
“Off to a good start with the locals,” I said to myself before hightailing it back to the cabin.