Page 10 of Liberated By the Logger

With all my might, I use the last of my remaining strength to scream for help and fight my restraints. The logical part of me realizes it’s a lost cause, but a small part of me still has hope of rescue.

When I sense I’m fading into unconsciousness, I force my eyes open.

A giant man stands over me, covered in rain gear. His face shadowed from his hood, aside from his reddish beard and striking gray eyes. I’ve never seen eyes his color before.

I’m either hallucinating or he’s real. Only one way to find out.

Ignoring the rawness in my throat, I sob. “Help.”

What happens next is a blur. The heavy chain around me disappears. Strong arms encircle me, lifting me off my feet. The wind whips around me, swooshing against my ears and making it seem like I’m flying.

I glance upward, seeing nothing but the rain and this massive man watching over me.

“I’ve got you, darlin’. Stay with me.”

His voice is deep and rough, rich with reassurance. He called me darlin’—SWOON!

Wait a second. No guy has ever used a term of endearment when addressing me, especially one with the voice of a Greek God.

Well, crap. I’m dead, aren’t I? That or I’m dying. The giant must be an angel or something alike, come to take me to the afterlife and giving me one last kindness with sweet words before I leave this earth.

Lightning streaks across the sky, filling my vision with white before thunder clatters like a deafening drum line.

Jackknifing upright, I gasp awake. Thunder rumbles overhead, but I’m no longer freezing nor am I drenched. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the low light before taking in my surroundings. I’m in a room I’ve never seen before.

Stripped thick pine logs line the walls—a cabin, I guess. The room is dark aside from the roaring fire crackling away in the fireplace beside me. Its heat permeates my bones, settling my nerves a tad. I sit on a plush leather couch, burrito rolled in a buffalo check down comforter.

Looking down at the surrounding blanket, I notice I’m dressed in only a white Henley shirt three sizes too big—definitely not mine.

Where the hell are my clothes? And where the hell am I?

My head whips around as I look for anything to tell me where I am or where my clothes, especially my underwear, might be. I spy a glass of ice water set on the end table beside me. Its condensation dripping down the sides tempts me, reminding me of the rawness of my dry throat.

My hand reaches out for it before I hesitate. What if it’s poisoned?

Why would someone go to great lengths to rescue me from the mountain, bring me somewhere safe from the storm, and do everything to make me warm again if their intention was to kill me? They would have to be a twisted individual to harm me now. Most people wouldn’t waste their energy for nothing, right?

Considering I have no idea where I am and I’m at the mercy of a stranger, I need to believe they only have good intentions, if only to calm my own rattling nerves.

Shaking my head at my ridiculousness, I reach for the glass. I bring it to my lips and gulp the ice liquid, easing the ache in my sore throat.

Swallowing my nerves, I manage a weak, “Hello?”

Not a peep aside from the raging storm outside, ramming against the cabin’s exterior.

Still uneasy, I slowly kick off the blanket and stand on shaky legs as I take in my new surroundings. Definitely a cabin—a spacious, newer cabin—and I’m in what appears to be the living room.

For a rustic residence, the space is quite stunning. Leather chairs and couches, hard oak mission style furniture, and Tiffany-style stain glass lamps fill the space. A large TV is in one corner of the room, while the other corner has a rustic cabinet displaying some carved decoy sculptures. And the most impressive river stone fireplace runs from floor to ceiling.

Judging from the animal pelt lying on the floor like a rug, the taxidermy deer heads mounted on the walls, and the lack of anything feminine, I’m guessing a man lives here.

Assuming the shirt I’m wearing belongs to the homeowner, a very LARGE man lives here. And I’m in this strange man’s home wearing his clothes and no underwear.

Okay. Don’t panic. Maybe I’m still dreaming. Or maybe I’m dead and this masculine cabin is my version of heaven?

Not likely.

“Oooh.” I wrap my arms around my middle, suddenly extremely anxious. Before I lose my head, I decide to look around for the owner of this cabin. I’ll feel better once I know who I am dealing with—I hope.