Page 5 of Abandoned on His Mountain

It’s a couple miles up the trail, but the exercise is good for my head. I grab my Winchester from my truck as I pass, because I’m not the only one that likes this mountain at four in the morning.

There’s a freezing mist in the air, but I don’t feel the cold. I trudge along, pushing away the looming disaster my temper has caused me once again. I don’t want to entertain what ifs, but my short fuse could cost me the one thing in my life I vowed to never abandon.

Droplets of gathered drizzle cling to the pine needles, making them flicker in the muted moonlight. In the distance, wolves howl in the darkness. With the valleys and geography, it’s difficult to know from which direction the sound originates.

I tighten my grip on the rifle that’s braced like a yoke across my shoulders and inhale the heavy evergreen air.

I become time blind when I walk in these woods, especially at night. I don’t know how far I’ve walked or how long when my peace shatters.

There’s the faint glow of lights in the old cabin’s window. Who the fuck…

No one comes up here. They know better. I’ve chased people off with bullets in the air enough that word gets around: I’m not a hospitable host.

Through the leaves still clinging to the branches, there’s no mistake. Someone’s in there, and they are about to have a very unpleasant wake up call.

There’s an outline of a figure through the window above the pump sink, but I can’t tell much more than they are wearing red. Narrowing my eyes, drops of the mist wet my lashes as I stomp forward, raising my rifle.

I focus on the window, mud squishing around my boots as I move, noting the white tangle of smoke twisting from the metal stack in the roof.

Whoever it is, they sure are making themselves at fucking home, but I’ll fix that right fucking now.

I’m close enough to make out the form inside, and I freeze. I suck in a breath of the chilled air, shaking the drops of water from my face.

Is this real?

The anger balled inside me dissipates into the night as I get my first look at the face of a fucking angel.

My dick springs to life against the teeth of my zipper and a zap feels like a bolt of lightning strikes the top of my head.

She’s fuckingstunning,even in the red puffy coat that’s covering her from neck to knees.

Doesn’t matter. I know under all that poofy down is the body of Aphro-fucking-dite.

Possessiveness spreads through me like sweet poison. It invades every cell. Worming into my DNA, becoming part of me in an instant.

What the fuck is happening? Is the sleep deprivation causing delusions?

She rolls her head around, her dark chocolate colored hair rippling around her face and splitting over her shoulders. Her eyes are closed as she raises her hands, stretching them toward the ceiling as the low light inside the cabin kisses her pink lips.

I’m instantly hard. Something that hasn’t happened at the mere sight of a woman… ever.

My chest is painfully tight as she opens her eyes and stares directly at me through the window.

I’m in the tree line, there’s no way she sees me, but her gaze nearly buckles my fucking knees. I’ve never knelt in front of anyone before, but this little brazen trespasser has me ready to fall down and bury my face between her legs in worship.

All my thoughts of blowing a hole through whoever dared to violate my property evaporate as I get closer and see the blush on her cheeks and the hint of worry around her eyes.

As I step through the last of the trees, I imagine those cheeks decorated with pearly streaks of my cum and wonder if under that coat her nipples are hard. I stall for a moment before I step into the clearing that borders the cabin and watch her walk in a circle as though she’s lost.

That’s it. She has to be lost, but what the fuck is a beauty like her doing up here in the first place? There’s no car and my next thought has my finger looping over the trigger of the rifle again.

What if she’s not alone? What if there’s some dude in there with her and now, fuck, now I have to kill him.

I shake my head.Nomore fucking killing. Almost everyone in town knows about my father and what happened there. He’s six feet under and it was my hands that caused it. Whether it was earned or not, I still got charged with manslaughter, but due to extenuating circumstances and my age, I didn’t serve any time.

My father isn’t the only blood I’ve had on my hands either, but there’s no time for that memory lane trip right now. All I want to do right now is eat her alive.

But wait, I remind myself, what if she’s not alone…

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