Lost: A Snowed In Erotic Romance

Solitude interrupted brings with it a desire like none other.

The temperature was dropping fast—the wind picking up speed. Caleb would need to check his traplines and try his luck for larger game while he still could before the storm hit. He damped down the fire in the woodstove, throwing the small cabin into semi-darkness. If he was to survive the winter, he needed more than rabbits to sustain him. He looked out through the window into the swirling snow. By nightfall, it would be blizzard conditions.

Caleb scratched his half-wolf, half-husky's head. He had finally settled on the name Marly, a name he had given to a wolf-hybrid in his youth. This puppy had been payment for a stack of wolf pelts he hadn't found any use for. He ran his hand down his fur tunic. Between bear and wolf, he had enough clothes to do him for the winter. What he had needed was a hunting dog. Come spring, he would start Marley on some basic hunting companion exercises.

For now, though, the young pup would stay indoors in the relative warmth. Caleb swung his rifle over his shoulder and tucked his collection bag into his belt. He slipped on his mitts. The bite of cold as he opened the door almost had him reconsidering. But he needed meat.

He slammed the door closed behind him and hauled his fur-lined hood tighter around his face. Between the fur lining and his thick beard and mustache, he was well protected from the cold. That and he was used to it. Caleb had been living in those mountains for nearly twenty years.

Caleb grunted as he set out. It was still early, the sunrise barely lighting up the sky; the thick, powdery snow that was falling illuminated by it. He headed east. If there was any large game to be found, it would be located amongst a dense stand of cedars in that direction. If he was lucky, numerous whitetails would be huddled together beneath the boughs.

He reached down and adjusted his snowshoes—strapped tight, then continued through some young evergreen saplings. He could check one of his traplines before he entered the thick wood. Loop after loop, he checked and reset the snares if they had been disturbed. He sighed, disheartened, as he trudged his way through the snow. The entire line was empty.

His stomach growled. He was exerting far more energy than he had to spare. He had some dried rabbit jerky back at the cabin and a few venison sausages, but he needed to replenish his supply of fatty meat. One couldn't live on rabbit alone—eventually, it would kill you.

A moose or beaver would provide him with the best answer to his hunger. For now, though, whitetail deer would have to do. That and some carrots and fried onions would hit the spot right about now. He headed for a clearing that would open onto a defunct logging road. An hour's walk on the other side of the road was the stand of dense wood he was looking for.

An odd form of white snow on the road caught his attention. It was halfway into the ditch—in the shape of a pickup truck. There was easily two feet of snow covering it. Caleb headed for the truck and brushed his hand across what should be the driver's side window, dispensing of the thick snow. He scraped at the icy coating on the glass and peered in.

His heart rate jumped. He could barely make out the orange glow of a flame inside—a candle. He checked the window of the door. It was cracked open slightly.

There was someone inside.

He yanked his gloves off, dug around in the snow, and hauled at the handle of the door. It was iced over but it soon gave way. He yanked the door open.

Inside, a man, not moving—cold to the touch. Caleb felt for a pulse. The man was still alive—but barely. Caleb looked up and down the logging road. Hoping for some form of help. The only tire tracks once visible were now obliterated by the snow. He had no idea how long the truck had been there. No one had used that road in years.

"Hey …" Caleb gripped the guy's face and shook him. The man groaned and opened one eye for a moment, then it slipped closed. "Hey …" Caleb patted the guy's cheeks. "What's your name?"

A hoarse voice answered. "Mark."

"Okay, Mark … I'm going to get you out of here." Caleb leaned his rifle against the truck and hauled Mark out from behind the steering wheel. He lifted Mark onto his shoulders—fireman style and lifted his rifle. His snowshoes weren't going to appreciate the extra weight. It was going to be a long trek back to the cabin. He adjusted Mark's body, set his shoulders, and headed off.

The last half hour was brutal. As Caleb approached the cabin, the snow thigh-high, he wasn't even sure Mark was still alive. He had set him down a few times to rest and check Mark's vitals; his pulse had been weak, his lips, nose, and cheeks frostbitten; his breathing shallow.

Caleb threw open the door of the cabin. Marley was immediately next to him, excited for his return. He slung Mark off his shoulders and onto the bed, shoved the door closed, latched it, and turned his attention to the fire. Adding more wood, he stoked the flames up until an inferno was blazing. What Mark required now was warmth—an abundance of it. He needed to strip Mark out of his cold, civilian-grade winter clothing and wrap his body in some warm furs.

He started with Mark's coat. An insulated anorak. Scarf, beanie, and gloves. Caleb shook his head. Mark wasn't even wearing snow pants and his boots were questionable for the weather conditions. Caleb wondered what the hell he had been doing so far out in the bush.

Mark mumbled something incomprehensible as Caleb whipped Mark's jeans off his icy thighs. Once he had Mark down to his briefs, he rolled him into the abundance of bear and wolf furs on his bed. Despite the damped-down fire, the bedding was still warmer than the state of Mark's clothing. Marley must have found a spot amongst them earlier and hunkered down while he had been out hunting. His canine body heat had left a small patch of warmth.

Under Caleb's watchful eye, Mark started shivering. That was a good sign. His body was fighting for survival. Caleb whipped off his fur tunic and hung it beside the fire. It would need to dry out; the falling snow had coated it. He yanked his boots off, then his fur-lined pants. Naked, he climbed into bed with Mark and wrapped him up in his arms. Mark only fought him for a second then calmed down, relaxing into his arms. The cold of Mark's skin on his chilled Caleb through. It was quite a while before his body heat took over and warmed them both.