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My fingers touch a beard—at least I think it’s a beard—when I try to swat him away, but my hand falls to my side, too weak to really do much.
A girl’s face pokes in right beside him, her eyes wide and her hair blonde.
“I took off your clothes,” she tells me very loudly, annunciating each word like I’m an idiot.
Then…panic hits, and I glance around, seeing a lit fireplace beside me. Where the hell am I?
“Her lips are blue. Maybe someone does need to strip down.”
“You do it,” the guy snaps at her.
“You do it,” she argues. “You’re like a furnace—you two can be fire and ice or something else lame like that. And I don’t like to get cold.”
He curses and stands, and I panic even more as he starts stripping. Sure, he has a nice body, but that’s really not the point right now. I don’t want his nice body so close.
Who the hell are these people and where am I?
I think I’m in a cabin. A cabin with a lot of antlers sticking out of plaques, guns hanging on walls, and animals stuffed. The unknown guy is stripping down as he and—I think—his sister argue about who puts off more body heat.
My gaze flicks toward the fireplace that I’m lying in front of…on top of what appears to be a fur rug of some sort. I swallow thickly when I realize there’s also something furry draped over me.
I came to Tomahawk without realizing it’s actually the setting for the Hills with Eyes or whatever that terrifying movie was called, minus the incestuous and radioactive deformities.
At least so far…
“Just so you know, I’m not going to touch you inappropriately. Take my body heat if you want to,” the guy says sourly close to my head, which admittedly puts me at ease…a little.
Weirdly enough.
I start scooting away from him when he climbs under the blanket with me, but when his warm foot brushes mine, it’s like my survival instinct takes over.
I’m suddenly crazy, heat-starved, and single-minded as I lunge and start hugging him, getting tangled around him quickly, because he’s sooooo warm. I think I whimper when the coldness starts to sting, my body trying to regain more heat.
He curses and tenses all over, but puts his arms around me. “It’s like hugging a fucking popsicle,” he gripes. “I better not get stuck to anything like I did that flag pole like that one time,” he adds.
“Just don’t stick your tongue out, and you’ll be good,” the girl assures him. “That sounded way dirtier than I meant for it to, and I’m kind of grossed out now. If I’m being honest,” she adds.
I don’t even care about anything but stealing every ounce of warmth he has to offer right now, pressing as tightly as I can against him. It takes me a second to realize he still has on boxers, but I’m completely naked.
My breasts are pressed flat against his chest, and as time passes, I gradually start to warm up. The warmer I get, the more awkward this entire situation becomes. It’s like my brain is thawing and finally appreciating the gravity of this entire surreal encounter.
He keeps my head tucked under his, likely to avoid the awkward eye contact thing.
I say nothing, since I still want more warmth right now. I’ll freak out in a minute.
At least there’s nothing sexual about the way he’s touching me. I think this is clearly just what it looks like—a stranger grudgingly sharing body heat with a stupid girl who tried to save a stupid deer with a noose, when she knows nothing about ice or wildlife or survival in a hostile environment.
Day one in Tomahawk, and I almost died for a fourth time. Guess I know we’re selling that cabin now.
“What the hell is going on?” another woman’s voice snaps.
I peer over the blanket with one eye just enough to see a woman with a wild bun on her head and an axe in her hand. I barely stop myself from fainting, because this is just getting more insane by the second.
I currently hate every horror movie I’ve ever seen that had a wilderness/isolated setting.
“Kai stole her from her home and is forcing her to have his babies,” the blonde girl says from the other side of me, perched by the fireplace as she eats an apple.
I’m pretty sure my teeth just chattered for a whole new terrifying reason.
“Fucking really, Nila?” the guy holding me growls. “Why? Why would you tell her that? Now she’s going to—”
The bun lady is already squealing to cut off his words. “Where’s that damn emergency phone?” she asks, pulling open drawers and shutting them.
I’m being really still and really quiet, praying for this nightmare to end abruptly.
“Ah ha! Found it! I laughed at that Liam kid when he dropped this off, but now I want to kiss him for it,” she goes on as she squints like she’s trying to see the screen.
