Page 17 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

Only my body bucking and coiling on the bed, struggling to get out of the choke hold, my feet flying around. My fingers were nearly white as I tried to pry the man’s fingers from my neck. This time, though, I felt the cold mouth of a gun at my temple.

I felt my body start to sink into the bed—and then I was underwater, sinking, sinking…surrounded by glee-filled eyes. Shaking in terror, I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest. I was drowning.

Frightened.

Dying.

“No!” I cried and awoke with a start, the small sound echoing about the small room.

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. My scattered mind told me I was in this bed— and the one in New York. My lungs could suck in air— but I felt thumbs in my neck cutting the breath off.

Crash!

Something went splinter.

Another thing went shatter.

A thunderous boom!

“Help, Warrick. Help me!” I screamed. The sheets twisted and tangled around my legs, but I felt a giant snake trapping my legs, holding me down. The gun was still pressed on my temple. A nerve-shattering crash sounded around me but my nerves were already shattered,

I forced air through my nose, then through my teeth, when the sourness in my stomach wouldn’t go away.

I was about to get shot.

“Warrick!” I scrambled, clawing at the bed and flinging myself off it. I landed on my shoulder; my legs were still trapped. I was about to die! “I’m going to fucking die!

Chapter Six

Warrick

Awindow shattered from a loose rock lifted by the wind mere moments before I heard Zara scream over the thunder.

“Warrick! Help me—” I flung the blanket off and darted to the bedroom. “Warrick!”

I yanked the door open and found her half sitting on the floor, her legs tangled in the bed sheets. Her hands were scrambling, nails scraping on the floorboards until I lurched forward and grabbed her.

Hauling her up, I winced when her nails sunk into my skin. Jesus, this girl was really afraid of thunderstorms, wasn’t she?

“Easy,” I said calmly while lightning flashed out the window, “it's all right. You’re fine, Zara. You’re safe.”

While I lifted her to the bed, her left side pressed into mine, and I felt her heart hammering against her breastbone. When I got her on the bed and against the pillows, her face was deathly bloodless with fear. Her fingers were gripping the sheets, her chest heaved, and her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth.

I tried to get a hold of her eyes—but failed.

“Are you all right?” I asked, knowing damn well she was not all right. No one screamed like that if they were all right, not even if they were mildly scared. Zara was scared stiff. “What happened?”

“I—” She looked everywhere but at me. “—had a nightmare. I’m sorry I frightened you. I-I don’t do well with storms.”

In the end, her voice was weak and trembling, and I was not sure if she could hold up for the rest of the night. This storm was a big one and it was going to last the night. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

She sucked in a breath. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can I stay with you for the rest of this storm? I-I-”

“May have another panic attack,” I finished for her.

Zara nodded numbly. Her hands brushed across her throat, and I wondered if she wanted to vomit as well. She looked so lost, so tiny…a protective surge rose in my gut. “C’mon, then,” I stood and took her blankets. “Let’s go. I’ll make you another cup of tea, too.”

She let out a strangled sound. “You have anything stronger? Whisky, rum, moonshine strong enough to strip paint from a wall?”

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