Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,19
all depends if they care enough to investigate.”
A piercing screech of warning calls out to us from above. The shadow of wings passes a moment later. That reminder is clear. We’re not alone in these woods. But eagles and hawks aren’t the ones we need to fear.
Her gaze follows the retreating shape. “What’s that?”
“Some bird of prey, looking for dinner.” If we weren’t bunking down for the night, following its trail could lead to water.
She shivers. “Sounds desperate.”
“Most likely a common theme around here.”
“That’s not going to happen to us, right?”
I shake my head, fighting off the urge to reach for her. “Don’t worry, Blakely. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. We can start exploring tomorrow.”
“Okay, that gives me hope.” And it shows in the gleaming shine of her eyes—one glimmer and I’m paralyzed. But that’s not something I can afford to be.
My faults and flaws haunt me, for damn good reason. The worst of them resulted in this all-expenses-paid trip to the Arctic Circle. But I’ll redeem myself. I was given a second chance when those steel bars released me early. It won’t be wasted, even with a mob of corrupt forces against me.
I rip my gaze off Blakely, choosing instead to search the barrier of trees encircling us. Once evening is upon us and the temperature drops, we’ll need more defense from the elements. Getting a fire roaring is easy enough. Splitting a hefty supply of lumber with nothing but a rusty hatchet will be more challenging.
This section of forest has a broad collection of spruce, pines, and whatever those leafless wonders are. Those bare trunks will make great posts for a lean-to. That will have to suffice for the time being. The odds of stumbling upon a cave aren’t impossible. Finding one that’s not already occupied by a bear is another story. There are plenty of naturally formed nooks and corners we can utilize if the weather takes a turn for the worse. Those slightly secluded spots will shield us better than anything I can construct.
We’ve been dropped in the center of literally nothing, other than trees and mountains. But that couldn’t be all. Of course not. The thick blanket of snow and freezing wind chill make our situation more dire.
“What happens next?” Plumes of smoke twirl off her tongue. The sight is captivating. I never would have guessed anything about being trapped in a wintry climate could be sexy. It should be no surprise that Blakely has proved me wrong, once again.
I swallow over the knot of lust. “Well, that’s a complicated question.”
She gestures around us. “Seems pretty straightforward, considering we’re not going anywhere tonight. There’s nothing for us to do except pitch a tent or whatever.”
I snort, covering the patronizing sound with a cough. “That would’ve been too nice of them. I’ll make some cover for us.”
She begins pushing herself off the forest floor. “Do you need help?”
“Only if you want to offer it.” My response has a smoky edge that swirls across the mere feet separating us.
Blakely’s cheeks bloom with a fresh blush. “I’m beginning to feel like decoration just sitting around.”
A noise that resembles a growl tickles my throat. She’s the finest scenery I’ve ever been privy to. Admiring her from this distance is a gift more precious than any priceless painting. “I’ll get the wood cut. You can lend a hand binding it together for the roof and walls.”
“Um, okay. Sounds great.” She nods, a furrow dipping between her slim brows.
“I’ll show you once we get to that point.” I unzip my jacket and toss it beside her. The long-sleeved thermal will be more than enough to hold in heat once I get going. “Feel free to use my coat to keep warm, if you’d like.”
She glances at the discarded garment like it’s an invitation to salvation. “Won’t you be cold?”
“Nah, quite the opposite.”
“That’s an offer I won’t refuse.” Blakely tugs the puffy material over her lap. Another spike of fierce protectiveness lashes me. The sight of her using my stuff gets me hotter than that parka ever will.
After grabbing the hatchet, I stride to a tree that’s ripe for the chopping. I lose myself in the chore of hacking down girthy boughs and branches. Loud thwacks reverberate against the trunk, beaming around the forest like a sonar. With each new portion, it takes several swings to make a deep enough groove for the wood to split. A decent ax would cut this task in half. The dull blade almost bounces off