Page 20 of An Avalanche Hero Christmas

The question caught Lance off-guard. When he decided to make conversation, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might throw him a question.

What about you?Her words circled through his mind. A single image rose in his memory: Blue eyes. Blonde hair. A pair of wings that glowed in firelight.

He shook his head. “I’ve…never been married, either. I have no one.”

It was the truth, but it dawned on him then that his hesitation might seem to her that he was hiding something. She regarded him silently for a moment before responding.

“Okay.” Her hand drifted lower. “I guess—oh!”

She had just touched him below the waist. Lance felt his gut clench. A jolt of emotion he didn’t recognize coursed through his veins, and he sat bolt upright, his hand flying to his crotch.

He was rock-hard and pulsating.

“I—I’m sorry,” Mallory stuttered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m sorry,” he countered, wondering if she could sense his embarrassment.

More awkward silence passed between them. Lance was grateful when it was interrupted by the distant howling of the wind.

“I’ll bandage your injuries now,” she said, clearing her throat. “And maybe you can get some rest. We’ll tend to the rest of your wounds in the morning, so I….” She trailed off.

So I don’t accidentally touch you again,she’d been about to say.

Lance bit his lip, torn between embarrassment and the desire that had awakened in him.

It was just as well because if her hand strayed to his crotch again, Lance didn’t think he would be able to contain his arousal. Even now, his mind was bombarded with thoughts of taking off her coat and the bra she had on underneath, baring her nipples.

Lance cleared his throat again.

A shiver coursed through his body as she touched him again, wrapping the bandages around his torso, over the slashes Boris had given him.

As she dressed his wounds, Lance found his mind had fallen back into its pattern of restlessness, ruminating over his interaction with the Fae Hunter. He wondered if Boris had sustained injuries, too, if the man was holed up somewhere, patching himself up.

Perhaps. Perhaps he was making his way toward them. The thought of the Fae Hunter struck Lance as a bit strange now. For a long time, Boris had been little more than a myth, an embodiment of fear and death. Having faced him and barely survived, he was more aware than ever of the danger the man posed.

Yet there was another part of him that couldn’t see Boris as more than just that—a man. Lance had fought him and gotten away. Both men had struggled. Boris was mortal like he was. He might be powerful, dangerous, even terrifying, but if Lance could face him once, perhaps he could do it again.

Would he survive their next encounter? He needed to make sure they didn’t cross paths again. Still, the thought rankled him.

He forced it aside, and it was immediately replaced with another less troubling thought as he sat and let Mallory wrap the soft bandages around his body. Mallory was taking care of him. From someone whom he’d spent the last few days trying to protect, this was the last thing he’d expected.

Perhaps it was because help was the last thing he’d expected fromanyfae. Julia hadn’t helped him. All she’d done was bring him trouble.

Chapter Nine

“Why Are You Helping Me?”

There were two things that Mallory was grateful for as she and Lance lay in the dark depths of the cave that night. The first was its warmth. It was nothing compared to what she imagined a fire would be like, but it was warm enough that she could pull off the coat for a moment and stretch her wings.

The second was that they could finally get some rest. Their journey had been tiresome. Her muscles ached, and her bones were tired. More than anything else right now, she needed to get some sleep. Between the constant threat of Boris, the Fae Hunter, the appearance of Boris himself, and their plunge off the cliff, her nerves were frayed.

In all her life, she’d never come so close to death so many times within a matter of days. If, by some miracle, she ever found herself back in her world, the first thing she would do was book an appointment with a shrink.

Lance was already asleep, which was a relief. He needed the rest even more than she did, especially after everything he’d put himself through on her behalf. She lay in the dark, listening to his gentle snores until, soon, the sound lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

By the next morning, she felt invigorated. Lance was already awake and crouched near the mouth of the cave, almost a silhouette to her. Wrapped in bandages, he looked like something out of a fantasy movie. Either that or someone auditioning for a remake ofThe Mummy.

Routinely checking her MediPack to make sure it was still intact—she’d used most of the bandages and antiseptic and had lost the scissors but nothing else—she made her way toward him.

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