Page 63 of Monsters of Desire and Nightmares of Passion

“Ivy, yes. I remember her. She’s soft and smells good.” Draw nods and takes another swing from the flask.

Life is simple. We’ll hunt for game, gather wood, and go home to Ivy. Her name smells like roses in my mind. Roses? What’s a rose? Have I ever smelled one before?

Ivy

The pillow is so soft. I wake up in a perfect bed with plaid bedding colored red and green. As I look around, I spot a fireplace across from the bed and a soft fur blanket on the floor in front of it. From the window by my bed, the view outside shows a blanket of snow has covered the ground. It’s so beautiful. I could lay here for hours.

How is it possible that I love the scent of the log cabin so much?

My mind is garbled but at ease in a wonderful way.

I sit up and look out the window. Everything reminds me of a post card I once saw. The snow is so white that it looks almost blue. The sky is covered in sparkly stars and a full moon greets me. Tall trees stand up straight like evergreen sentinels, covered in sweet, powdery sugar. Only the sky was too generous with its frosting, which now hung heavy on the branches, making them bend under the load and touch the ground. Will they break or shake off the excess weight and jump back to their slender shape?

I jump out of bed, my feet still warm from the soft, warm sheets and walk around the cabin. I probably had some sort of accident that left my mind foggy and slow. It’ll all come back to me. I just need to have patience. And maybe some tea. Do I even like tea?

This must be my house, right? I mean, I was sleeping in this bed, and wearing a soft flannel nightgown in a beautiful shade of blue. It all feels so good, so right. And the room smells like hot cocoa.

“You’re awake.”

The most beautiful man I ever saw in my life speaks to me with a sexy smile. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that left little to the imagination and a plaid shirt with the top three buttons unbuttoned. His hair, which looks like silk, is long and caramel blonde, touching his shoulders. I want to touch it so badly.

He smiles. “I hope you’re not my brother because, if you are, I have some really inappropriate feelings for you.”

He holds a steaming cup of hot cocoa and offers it to me. I take the cup. He remains silent. His short, blonde beard makes me focus on his chiseled jawline and pale, pink, full lips. I bite mine, wanting to taste his. What is it with these guys? Oh, please, please, please don’t be my brother.

He nods with a smile and places his hands on top of mine, helping me hold on to the cocoa cup. I take a sip of the cocoa. All my worries melt away, as well as my panties, when he smiles at me.

“You need your strength,” he says, his voice melting me. “And I’m not your brother.”

“Where am I and who are you?” I gulp down another mouthful of the delightful tasting brew. “What’s my name?”

So many questions demanding answers.

Instead of answering me, this gorgeous man sits on one side of the bed. His fingers slip into my hair, pushing it behind my ear. I lean into his tender touch. His touch has a wonderful effect on me. A smile tugs at his lips. I would have gladly kissed him right there, but he lifts that damn cup to my lips.

“Drink. You need your strength,” he whispers. His face is so close to mine I can taste his sweet breath. “Your name is Ivy, and you’re home.”

“Ivy,” I repeat after him, like some sort of weird parrot. The name feels good in my mouth, familiar. It had to be my name.

“And you are?” I ask, staring deep into his emerald eyes. Only then do I notice his long lashes and the way they touch the upper part of his cheeks.

His index finger traces my upper lip. He then moves his finger to his mouth and licks his fingertip. Slowly. He smiles. “You had some cocoa.”

His strong chest pushes against his plaid shirt. Suddenly, my hands move over his defined pecks, forgetting everything else that I had been thinking about.

This place is wonderful, and this man is all I can think about. His eyes flicker under the lights of the stars and the fire.

His hands caress my hips and I immediately want more. He takes the cup of cocoa out of my hands cup away. I’m finally free to touch him with both hands. He doesn’t seem to mind. Quite the contrary, a deep purring leaves his wide chest. He isn’t my brother, so shouldn’t I be allowed to play?

Melting into his arms, I want him to touch me in all the places where the heat burns and bites at my body.

“What’s your name?”

“Does it matter?” hot guy moans into my ear.

It doesn’t. His hardness presses against his jeans. I slip down, kneeling in front of him, my eyes locked on his emerald eyes. I could see the light and fire breaking through the surface of his beautiful emerald eyes, as if it his eyes were only a cover and underneath there was something else.

“Mrez. My name is Mrez.”

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