Page 3 of Temptation
The thought of my brother has me moving. We already lost our parents. I have to survive this, or he’ll be completely alone.
I use the back of the tree to push myself to my feet. Placing one foot in front of the other, I walk.
More time passes, although I’m not sure how long, before the rain stops. My clothing is soaked through and my teeth knock together with cold, but I keep walking through the forest, not knowing if I’m going in circles or heading for more danger. I don’t care. I need to keep moving to keep my blood flowing.
I’m so numb with cold that it takes me a moment to see the red glow up ahead. I squint through the forest until it comes into focus. A red light. My feet move toward it, and I stumble out of the forest and onto a concrete driveway.
Cold and hunger propel me forward, following the wide driveway lit with red lights as relief penetrates my bones and fills me with hope.
The path tuns through the forest, and as I come around the corner, a building comes into view.
It looks out of place in the forest, a modern house made of dark square wood. There are no windows on the ground floor, and an apex on the top level has tinted glass and a wraparound balcony.
It must be one of the lake houses that the rich use as vacation homes. But there’s something sinister about it, the lack of windows and the red lights framing the door.
Outside, a number of cars are parked in an area to the left. The lights pick up a shiny Jaguar and a sleek Mercedes. There’s money here, and after my encounter with Chad, a pang of warning clenches my stomach.
There’s the faint vibration of music coming from inside. Whoever lives here is up. I stumble towards the cabin. I don’t care who lives here. I need shelter.
I lift my hand to knock and pause as the music swells. There’s an insistent beat to it, a steady bass that rattles the floor and makes me wonder about who’s inside. By the number of cars and the music, they must be having a party.
A gust of wind whips through the trees and crashes my soaking sweater into my back, making me shiver with cold.
I don’t bother knocking. I need shelter and I need it now.
Turning the brass handle, I push open the door and step inside.
I’m looking down a long corridor. It’s lit only with red lights attached to the walls every few feet. The carpet is deep red and lush, and I drip water all over it. But it’s the walls that get my attention.
They’re lined in opulent fabric that swirls into spiral patterns. My hand goes to the wall because I can’t resist, and my eyes close as I run my fingers along the patterns. The irregular weave of the fabric make my fingertips tingle.
The muffled vibrations of slow and steady bass send vibrations through my body. It’s low and sensual, and if I wasn’t so damn cold, it might make me shiver.
“Hello,” I call.
But there’s no answer. Whoever is here is probably in the room at the end of the corridor, behind the closed door where the music is coming from.
I make my way down the corridor, passing several doors. They’re all closed, and as I pass the first one, I hear a moan.
I pause, startled, and press my ear to the door.
There it is again, a subtle moaning noise. My breath catches. There’s no mistaking what that moan means. Someone’s enjoying themselves behind that door.
The uneasy feeling in my stomach expands. I should go. I should leave, but I’m too hungry, and the thought of going back out into the cold woods has me pushing forward.
Besides, I’m intrigued by what’s behind the door at the end of the corridor. The one where the red light shines the brightest and the music is coming from. Unlike the other doors, this one has a sign hanging from a golden hook. In cursive script, the words “Come in…” are written.
A woman cries out, a high pitched sound of pleasure.
For the first time in hours, my shivering stops. Whatever is behind that door is something dark and forbidden, people being intimate in a way that I never have. A blush spreads up my cold skin, sending welcome heat to my cheeks.
I glance behind me to the front door. The door that leads back to the forest, back to the rain and the bears and the hunger.
Maybe I could find a building around behind the house to shelter in or a shed. Or there must be a road into this place which can get me back to The Lodge.
My stomach growls, and my legs buckle with exhaustion. I lean against the door, considering my choices. I can go out and face the cold and the hunger, or I can open the door and seek shelter.
A loud moan comes from behind the door and I feel a tug in my core, a longing that I’ve had for the last few years.
