Page 4 of My Three Mountain Men

Sensibility prevailed, and I slowly closed my mouth before I could make another sound and alert him that I was awake. I didn’t want Aimee’s flying monkey to hit me with another dose of whatever she had initially pricked me with.

Even as I was thinking it, my eyes started to burn.

What the hell did she give me? Why did it keep knocking me down?

I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that my limbs were on fire—the feeling in my hands and feet restricted. I was both hot and cold, aching and miserable.

Think! Think, Simone!

I had to get out of there, but without the energy to even sit up, how was I going to accomplish that?

Then, I succumbed to the darkness again, but blissfully, thankfully, I didn’t dream this time.

* * *

Snap, crackle, pop, Rice Krispies!

Weird.

My eyes opened at the inane thought, the cracking of a fire fully parting my lids. At first, my heart jumped, this new environment just as confounding as all the others, my gaze fixed on the intricate stone fireplace, fully ablaze in front of me.

A gasp of surprise twisted my neck toward the sound, and I yelped, the sound becoming a cough in the dryness of my throat.

The man seated in the wing chair at the bedside instantly jumped up, his azure eyes popping as they raked over me.

“Hang on,” he murmured, reaching onto the bedside for a thermos. “Here, drink this.”

I started to shake my head, not trusting him, despite his intense attractiveness. His woodsy, manly scent flooded my nostrils as he leaned toward me, the flannel of his sleeve brushing over my shoulder. I drew back, mewling.

“You’re okay,” he told me reassuringly. “Just have some water.”

My cough tapered off, and I reluctantly accepted the glass, downing the liquid sloppily, my neck straining painfully.

“Take it easy,” the hot stranger said, taking the glass from my shaking hand.

His fingers touched mine, and for the first time, I noticed how discolored my hands were. I choked at the sight.

“What did you do to me?” I rasped, pulling away as he set the glass back on the bedside table.

Before he could respond, the door to the bedroom opened, and two more men entered. Dread filled my throat, my eyes widening to cover my entire face.

“She’s awake,” the man at my side announced.

“I can see that,” the tallest of the newcomers growled, nodding toward the hallway. “A word, Brooks.”

My original companion backed away from the quaint, handcrafted bed and moved to join the others. I bit on my lower lip, yearning to fire off a multitude of questions but paralyzed by fear that I was only bringing trouble on myself if I did.

The tallest and oldest man headed out first, Brooks following, but the last one stared at me, his own cerulean eyes narrowed and suspicious. Gooseflesh erupted over my entire body as I returned his gaze.

They all looked so much alike. Were they related?

Swallowing thickly, I sank back into the pillows, eying my surroundings carefully as I looked for a weapon to protect myself, but even as I thought it, I knew how futile a fight would be against the three of them. If they wanted to hurt me, I would be powerless to stop them.

If they wanted to hurt me, they would have hurt me already,a small, logical voice quipped.

It was little consolation to my broken, pained body as I struggled to make sense of what was happening.

Where was Aimee? Where was I? What were they going to do to me?

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