Page 7 of Whiteout

“So I don’t lose you, princess.” And with a deep chuckle, he winked. “Just don’t fall into the stream, okay? Think you can manage that?”

Steeling herself to brave the brutal elements outside, she couldn’t come up with a response—not that he waited for one. Sinjin opened his door, snow rushing in, before the force of the wind pushed it closed again. Dropping the duffel bag back onto the floor, Breanna watched him feel his way around the front of the truck to the passenger side.

His gloved hand skimmed beneath her jacket. Hooking one end of the cord to the belt loop of her jeans, Sinjin tethered her body to his. He rubbed the tender bump on her forehead. “Trees will give us some cover. Cabin’s not too far. You can do this.”

Emotion stinging the tip of her nose, Breanna pressed her lips together, offering him a brief nod, and he lifted her out of the truck, setting her on her feet beside him. Her boots sank into the heavy, wet snow, already calf-deep. Biting wind whirred in her ears. It whipped through her long hair, slapping her in the face.

Sinjin pulled her scarf up over her nose, and grabbing her by the hand led her away from the truck.

And with nothing more than blind faith, she let him.

Tilting her head down to keep frozen particles from blasting her eyes, Breanna set her sights on his big, black boots, making a path through the snow ahead of her.

They slowly made their way, moving from tree to tree along the mountain stream. A dull achiness set into her bones. Her lungs burned fire with every inhalation of frigid air. Snot dripped from her nose, grossly saturating the thin, knit wool that covered it. She couldn’t be certain how far they’d already gone or how much farther they still had to go, but the trek was arduous and she was exhausted.

To make matters worse, cute UGG boots were not meant for hiking through a blizzard. Even though Breanna wore an over-the-knee pair, snow found its way inside them, packing her feet in slush. She could barely feel them anymore. Her foot struck a rock hidden beneath her, and she stumbled.

Sinjin stopped and pulled her up from the snow. Breanna leaned on him for a moment, his arms steadying her, wiping at the snot running from her nose with the heel of her gloved hand.

“C’mon.” He gave her a quick squeeze and hunched over, patting himself on the back to show he wanted her to climb onto him.

Her arms cinched around his neck, legs locked at his waist, Sinjin straightened as if she didn’t weigh a thing. “Don’t let go.”

As if she would.

“We should be almost there.”

Breanna laid her head on his broad shoulder, face buried against the crook of his neck. She could smell the masculine scent of him. His woodsy, sensual musk infused her, blocking the frozen ozone and wintry pine. Dragging it greedily into her lungs, she closed her eyes, thinking of warm, pleasant things as he carried her on his back through the storm.

Venice Beach.

A rose honey latte topped with cardamom.

Disneyland.

Cozying up to a fire with a good book.

Fuzzy socks.

Taking another whiff of him, she opened her eyes. Hot, delicious sex.

Sinjin put her down on the porch of a small wood cabin. As November raged white all around them, Breanna stood there, shivering from the loss of her body melded to his, and watched him shove his shoulder against the door.

He swooped her up in his arms, carrying her across the threshold. “Your castle in the storm, princess.”

“I do have a name, you know, and it’s not princess.”

In the dark, his whiskey eyes looked feral. His lip curled.

“It’s Breanna.”

It wasn’t much warmer inside the cabin, but at least it was dry. Leaving her to stand there, snow caked to her boots, Sinjin skirted over to her left. Breanna couldn’t see what he was doing, but she recognized the sound, and the smell of sulfur as a match was struck.

Down on his haunches in front of the hearth, flames illuminated his face. As if he felt her gaze on him, he rose, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Come over here and get warm.”

Shakily removing her outer layers, she hung the wet items on pegs in the wall, leaving her boots at the door. Now that she could see, Breanna scanned the single room. Simple, but thankfully, it appeared to be clean. There was a rudimentary kitchen area to the right with a wood stove and a small table, an iron bed on the far wall in front of her, a couple of chairs, and a door—she prayed it went to a bathroom. She had to go, and just the thought of having to do her business in an outhouse caused a violent shudder to shoot through her.

Breanna pointed at it. “Please tell me that’s a bathroom in there.”

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