Page 8 of The Haunting of the Mountain

I turn my head to meet her gaze and my slight annoyance fades. She’s far more beautiful in the light. She’s more than an angel. She’s a gift. A precious, shivering gift that needs to be taken care of.

She opens her mouth but doesn’t respond, closing it a few seconds later.

“Peppermint it is,” I say, retrieving a couple of tea bags from the cabinet and plopping them into mugs.

When I glance back at her, she’s moved one cushion closer to me. Progress.

“I think we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

My pant legs slosh and my wet feet stick against the wood floor as I move toward her.

“Maybe,” she says, reluctantly. “Are you going to kill me?”

I snort. She’s got an active imagination, but I don’t blame her. It’s a long way to civilization, and I’m not a small man. A few of my clients have joked that if I trace my lineage far enough, I might find a missing link to Bigfoot.

And when I head into Whispering Winds, I notice how some people look. Tourists mostly. They’re not accustomed to the menwho live up in the wildlands of the mountain. We’re a rough breed. Big. More beast than man.

“If I’m a killer, I’m doing a poor job of it. But…” My words catch in my throat. Her scent is intoxicating. Incapacitating. I’m at her mercy. And those lips—the way her teeth drag across at them as she scans me…

One taste. Just one?—

I shake my head, sighing as I sit next to her.

“You’re the one who broke into my cabin. I’m not the one on trial here.” I can feel her eyes bore into the side of my face. “And that ritual you were doing?” I gesture at the candles. “I think I’m the one who should be worried.”

“I didn’t break in.”

I turn to meet her gaze, her cheeks flushing as she lowers her head. Glad to see some color return, but I’d like to see more.

“I booked this place online. Well, my friend did. Who I can call at any moment,” she adds quickly, and then for good measure. “She knows about you.”

I snort. “Yeah? Pretty sure your cell phone has been sitting right there this whole time.”

I gesture to the phone and for a brief moment, I think she might lunge for it.

“Feel free. But there’s rarely cell service here. And with a storm like this? Not a chance.”

I lean back, rubbing my beard as I watch her in my periphery like she’s a scared stray. I don’t want to spook her. All I want is to get her out of her clothes. Get her warmed up in a hot shower. Tend to that leg. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t get close enough to her without her cringing away.

“So, I guess I’m stuck inside a cabin with a friendly killer.”

I swallow.

“And I’m stuck inside my cabin with a cultist.”

She snorts. “That wasn’t a ritual. Okay, the candles and Ouija board might’ve been a little over the top.”

“And that creepy doll?”

“That thing was forced onto me. I want nothing to do with it.”

That’s a little more reassuring. Although, I wouldn’t mind if she was part of a cult. Sign me up if it means I’ll be with her a little longer.

She hops off of the couch. I nearly rush after her, thinking she’s risking another escape but then she returns, thrusting the doll at me.

“Burn it.”

“And have it come crawling out in the middle of the night trying to find me?”

---