Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,65
by my side and am just beginning to discover the love she spurs inside of me. The mere idea of that emotion stops me short, but now isn’t the time for overanalyzing.
I double my friction efforts to force her circulation to cooperate. “We have to get your blood pumping.”
“It hurts,” she sobs. A single tear escapes the corner of her eye, racing downward as if escaping the site of pain.
The vision of that glistening trail is a sledgehammer to my shin. Fuck, that’s a colossal understatement. “I don’t doubt it, sweetheart. But you’re safe now.”
“Am I hurt?” Another tear follows the first.
I nudge my head along hers with a soft shake. “Nothing serious. Your skull almost bashed into a rock, and I blacked out for a second in panic. It’s a moment I never want to relive. Dammit, Lee. Please don’t scare me like that again.”
“Didn’t do it on purpose.” Her voice is little more than a squeak.
“I’m carrying you from now on.”
She nods into the column of my throat. “I won’t argue.”
The tension coiling in my muscles eases slightly at that. “Thank fuck for that.” I scrub a palm over my filthy mouth. “Sorry. I’m all outta sorts.”
“You’re forgiven.” Her lips twitch at the edges. “What’s with the new nickname?”
“Lee?”
“That’s the one.”
Prickles attack my nape and I fight the urge to fidget. “Just popped out, I guess. I’ll drop it.”
Her nails dig into me. “No, I like it.”
“Well, all right. How do you feel?” I resume alternating between rubbing and massaging for friction.
“Better, but I’m so cold,” she whimpers.
With a glance over my shoulder, I search our outer surroundings for the river. “I can grab the sleeping bag. It’ll take me less than two minutes.”
“You’re going to freeze, Halder.” Her chin trembles from the effort of talking.
I scoff at her concern. If only she could feel how hot my blood is boiling. Shame makes my skin sizzle with another blast of heat. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“I find that extremely hard to believe.”
After dropping a kiss to her pout, I roll away and tuck the clothes around her. She’s not wrong about the cold nipping my ass. The instant I’m separated from her, a blast slams into me, and I almost change my mind. But the idea of her suffering for one moment longer than necessary is enough motivation to slip my boots on. I take off at a sprint without further hesitation.
The bags are exactly where I threw them in the snow. I scoop up the bundles, whip out the bedding, and wrap the flannel interior around me to warm up the fabric. Then I’m running again. Steam puffs from my mouth with each harsh exhale. There’s no doubt I sound like a damn freight train carrying a wide load. Blakely pokes her head out of the pile of stuff she’s buried under when I approach.
“How long did I take?”
She holds up her bare wrist for inspection. “Just over the minute mark.”
“Better than I predicted.” I keep all hints of gloating from my tone.
“Impressive as always,” she muses with a hum.
She earns a wink for that. I spread the sleeping bag over her shivering form. “Okay, sit tight. I need to build a fire.”
“What?” She props herself up on a bent elbow. “Are you crazy?”
A smirk cuts across my mouth. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Well, that’s a crime. Similar to standing there, too far away from me, when I need your body heat.”
“Just a couple more minutes,” I assure.
“But you’re not wearing any clothes.”
“Splitting wood will get me overheated in minutes. Then I can share the warmth with you.”
“Oh.” A blush that’s most definitely not due to the cold floods her face. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Thought so. Plus, your clothes need to dry properly or they’ll be useless blocks. We need to thaw the ice in our veins, too.”
Blakely flops down into her clothing fort. “Ugh, you’re too wise and stubborn.”
“And you’re at risk for hypothermia and frostbite.”
“Fine,” she relents.
I spin on my heel and stride to the nearest tree, hatchet in hand. There’s not a second wasted as I hack through several branches. My pride keeps me in motion, but the temperature howls without mercy. I’m a careless fool, allowing the need for redemption to rule over welfare. Proving myself to be deserving and noble is bound to be the catalyst that ends me. The frigid claws scratch at my itchy skin, and I can’t go much longer without risking myself. With me in rough shape,