Page 3 of Snowed in with the Bear Shifter
3
ELOISE
She woke up cocooned in blankets, trapped and unable to move. Her head throbbed, but otherwise, she didn’t feel too terrible. At least she was out of the elements, warm and dry again.
What the hell? Where am I?she thought. Her eyes went wide, her pulse racing as the memory of her tumble down an incline and an enormous bear getting up in her face surfaced. A bear that changed into a man.Shifter, her brain supplied.
Was he her rescuer or her captor?
In her half-awake state, her vivid imagination ran wild. What if he’d brought her here to wherever they were and bound her in this bed so he could have his way with her? Her skin prickled.
Or maybe he was a crazed serial killer, planning on torturing and killing her. Or he could be into primal games, and he’d make her run barefoot through the woods while he chased her down.
She rolled her eyes at herself. Or maybe she needed to stop reading so much monster romance.
Darned head injury. Pull it together, woman, she thought, giving herself a mental shake.Coming up with ridiculous scenarios where this guy is either a demented killer or asex-starved maniac? Obviously, I’m concussed. He’s probably the helpful kind of bear who just happened to be wandering through the woods. In a storm. In the middle of nowhere.
Worrying about his intentions was doing her absolutely no good except to get her adrenaline pumping. She needed to free herself from this bed, figure out exactly where she was, and find her way home. Preferably without getting tortured, eaten, or killed.
Casting a glance at the room’s closed door, she kicked and squirmed against her bindings, only to realize she was just tangled up in a pile of blankets.
Well, now she felt like a fool. She still had on her shirt and underwear, though the warm woolen socks on her feet were new. Her clothes and outerwear were stacked neatly on a low bench at the end of the bed. She was sporting a couple of bruises and a nagging headache, but that wasn’t surprising considering she’d tumbled down an incline and crashed into a tree. All in all, she was mostly fine, and her rescue appeared to be just that — a rescue.
And honestly, would an actual bad guy with worse intentions leave an unopened water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the bedside table for her? Or a candle warming on the tall dresser opposite the bed so the room smelled like ginger and molasses cookies? Doubtful.
Her stiff muscles protested as she pushed herself into a seated position. Closing her eyes, she spoke a healing chant, the slow rhythm of her spell pulling on the magic of the world and easing the pounding of her head. Her healing abilities weren’t on the same level as her mother’s, but they were enough to help with the worst of her injuries.
Finishing the spell, she broke the seal and shook out three ibuprofen, downing them along with the entire bottle of water.Okay, then,she thought, sliding off the bed and pulling on her now-dry clothes.Let’s go meet my rescuer.
With a fortifying breath, she rolled her shoulders and left the security of her room to face the unknown.
Except the house was empty.
“Hello?” she called. No answer. Surely he didn’t leave her alone in his house? Didn’t he know leaving meant a tacit agreement that she could have a little nose around? Everyone knew that’s what happened when you left someone alone in your house.
A little frisson of excitement shot through her. She loved getting a glimpse into how other people lived and their design choices. The inside of a home could tell you a lot about a person.
For example, this cabin’s owner not only enjoyed his privacy, he liked his creature comforts. A deep, charcoal gray sofa with a pile of colorful pillows dominated the big living room, its walls painted a soft cream. The two distressed leather armchairs near the couch looked just as comfortable. Several beautifully crafted side tables with matching lamps flanked the chairs. High ceilings clad in wide planks of warm oak mirrored the flooring, and a thick patterned rug with reds and blues softened the space. In front of a large river stone fireplace sat a coffee table of raw-edged wood, with a several books and some magazines neatly stacked on its polished surface.
Whoever he was, he didn’t have a single holiday decoration out. No tree, no decorations on the large wood mantel, no lights strung up around windows. Nothing for Solstice, Christmas or otherwise. The room was cozy but bare of extras that made this time of year special.
She cocked her head, wondering if that meant he hated the holidays, didn’t like the clutter, or just didn’t care about the season. Whatever the reason, she’d find out soon enough.
A wide archway partitioned the kitchen from the living room, the two spaces flowing together but still separate. Bottom cabinets in navy blue lined the walls, and a matching island was topped with a white and gray marbled granite, bar stools neatly tucked up against it. Raw-edge open shelving echoed the coffee table’s design. Above the sink and a corner seating area, large picture windows normally overlooking the dense woods and mountain peaks beyond showed nothing but fat, fluffy white flakes.
The front door slammed shut, and she spun around, her fingers gripping the farmhouse sink’s cool porcelain edge.
“Hello?” a low, gruff voice called.
Let’s get this over with,she thought. Squaring her shoulders, she popped her head around the corner and saw her rescuer hanging his coat up in a closet under the stairs leading to a second level she hadn’t yet explored.
“Hi,” she said, giving him a little wave. “So, um, thank you for the rescue earlier.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, his back towards her as he toed off his boots and picked up a large canvas firewood carrier by the door. “How are you feeling?”
He turned dark honey eyes to her, and her breath caught, struck by how truly massive the man was. And how devastatingly handsome. Like romantic hero in a blockbuster movie handsome. Lush black hair fell in curling waves to his shoulders, and a heavy scruff edging dangerously close to a beard covered his square jaw. Broad shoulders and big biceps strained within the confines of a dark green plaid shirt. Jeans washed and worn so many times they were practically falling apart covered thick thighs and long legs.
She squinted at him. But why did he remind her of someone? She was pretty certain she’d remember meeting a man like him around her small town. If nothing else, the local gossipy grannygrapevine would have had a field day if Mr. Bear Shifter had strolled into the grocery looking like a snack. The entire town would have been made aware.
