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Chapter One
The prairie wind swept across the quad like cold fire, driving straight through the heavy folds of Megan's down-filled jacket. The shabby black coat was a relic, but she preferred its illusion of solidity to the insubstantial weight of the fiber fills and polar fleeces that her friends favored. It was a running joke among her peers that she was so used to working with antiquities, that she chose to live with them too. They weren't far wrong; at least the past made sense to her. The present was another story.
Shivering violently, teeth aclatter, she ran as fast as she dared over the icy pavement in the dark. Her car was parked on the far side of the quad; once there she'd at least be out of the wind. Hopefully the blasted thing would start. The little Civic was old and battered, and more than a bit undependable in the winter weather. She'd gotten to the College late that morning and some fool had taken her stall in the heated parkade. She'd had to park way out in the public lot, where there weren't even any electrical outlets. If she'd had just a little time to spare, Megan would have had the S.O.B. towed. She'd been too busy to think straight all day, and as a result, her car had been sitting unprotected in the frigid Alberta air for nearly ten hours. To top things off, the Project had run late into the evening, thanks to Brennan Loken's jacking around.
The man was a total waste of skin. He was one of those tall, muscular, dark, European-looking types that thought he was God's gift to women. He'd been making her life miserable ever since he'd transferred in from the U of A at the beginning of the term. Oh, he was actually one of the best looking guys on the campus, but he wouldn't know the meaning of the word 'no' if it bit him. He'd kept flirting with her, following her around and interfering with her work all day. It had really dragged things out. Unfortunately, he'd delayed her long enough that there were very few vehicles left in the lot. If her car wouldn't start, she was pretty much screwed. Sometimes, life as a research assistant wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
By the time she reached the car, Megan felt like her breath was freezing on her scarf. Even with the protection of the heavy wool, she was breathing in short painful gasps, and her lungs felt like they were on fire. She managed to locate her keys inside her backpack without taking off her heavy gloves, only to find that the lock on the driver's door was frozen solid. Cursing fluently, she walked around to the passenger side of the Civic. No luck, it was frozen too. Muttering under her breath, she jerked off one glove and fumbled for the cigarette lighter in her coat pocket. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could heat the key enough to defrost the lock. It was a stone bitch to do in the wind, but she eventually managed to get the key so hot she could hardly hold it. By the time she finished, her bare fingers were nearly numb. She couldn't take the time to pull her glove back on; the key was already cooling rapidly. Holding her breath, she shoved it into the lock and turned. It resisted a moment, then gave somewhat grudgingly. She was in.
Crawling into the driver's seat from the wrong side was somewhat awkward in the little car, but she managed it without too many problems. It would've been easier if her legs weren't so damn long, she thought. At nearly six feet, maneuvering in cramped spaces was always something of a challenge for her. Once she got herself folded into her seat, she tried to start the car. No dice. The starter groaned and complained bitterly, but there was no way the engine would turn over. She tried several times, but the only result was a completely dead battery. Cursing again, loudly this time, Megan leaned back in the seat to think. She didn't have a lot of options. There wasn't another person in sight and her cell phone was sitting on her kitchen table at home. It looked like she was going to have to brave the cold again and try to get back into the College to call a cab. Wearily, she reached into her pocket for her smokes. If she was going to go back out into the icy wind, she was going to rest a minute or two first. It might be cold in the car, but at least she wouldn't get blown around. Lighting her smoke, she leaned back, closed her eyes, and took a long hard drag off her cigarette. The wind howled like a demented banshee all around her insulated little haven.
She nearly choked on the smoke when someone knocked on the window beside her. Peering out through the frosty glass into the darkness, she was just barely able to make out the shape of a large man bending over the car. Weird, she could have sworn there wasn't anyone around. She looked him over carefully, but she couldn't get a good idea of what he looked like. He was dressed appropriately for the weather, and looked almost like an overstuffed child's toy. Cautiously, she rolled the window down just a crack. He obligingly leaned closer and mumbled something through the tiny opening. The wind gleefully whipped his words away, rendering them unintelligible.
"I'm sorry. I didn't hear what you said." Between the ravages of the wind and the heavy clothing he was wrapped in, Megan had to shout it twice for him to hear her.
Once he realized what she had said, he considerately shouted back. "I asked if you have booster cables."
"No I don't. I was just going to go back and call a cab."
"Might be hard to get one out here tonight. I could give you a lift back into town." Seeing the look of doubt on her face, he said. "I won't bite, I promise. You'll freeze if you sit here much longer. The wind's getting worse."
It was hard to tell, what with all the shouting and the wailing of the wind, but she thought he sounded sincere. At the very least, he didn't sound much like a psycho. She ignored the annoying little voice in the back of her head that wondered what a psycho actually sounded like. Maybe she should take the risk. There was no doubt that the towing companies and cabs would be swamped; they always were in this kind of weather. It was going to take hours to get someone out there, if it were even possible. She could call home, but there was little doubt in her mind that her roommate would be out already. It was Friday, and Ginger had a New Boyfriend. This one was so new that Megan hadn't even met him yet. Ginger was totally besotted. Nope, no possibility of a ride there either. Looked like she'd have to take the chance. Nodding to herself, she reached over and locked the passenger door. No sense in leaving it open, there were thieves in every neighborhood.
Throwing caution to the wind, she stepped out of the car, only to be thrown back into the door by a particularly fierce gust of freezing air. When the man reached out to steady her, she realized in shock that he towered over her by about eight inches. Megan instantly felt small and a little bit helpless, something she wasn't used to at all. Not very many men were that much taller than she was. It was an utterly bizarre sensation, distinctly disquieting.
He must have sensed her uneasiness, because he stepped back immediately. "My truck's just over by the trees." He waved a large, mittened hand behind her.
She turned to look in the direction he indicated, and caught a brief glimpse of a black 4x4 before the wind obscured it with a curtain of blowing snow and ice. It was running, but the lights weren't on. Nodding, she started towards it. No wonder she hadn't noticed it before. The wind and the shadows had hidden it from view. When they reached the truck, he opened the door and helped her in. While he walked around the truck, she belted herself in and settled back to enjoy the warmth from the heater. After the air outside, it felt like heaven.
When the man got in the truck beside her, she watched him out the corner of her eye. As he closed the door against the ravening storm, she caught a whiff of heady scent mixed with cold ozone. She couldn't identify it, but it was decidedly masculine and very, very appealing. It caused a tightening in her groin, and made her pulse race just with that brief exposure. It would be devastating up close and personal. He really was huge, a true giant of a man. He'd even make Brennan look small. The thought made her smile, Loken would be sooo upset. He was too used to being the big man about campus, both figuratively and literally. If this stranger was anything at all to look at, he could really give the jerk a run for his money. In the darkened cab, she couldn't make out much else about her rescuer. All she could see of his face was a pair of thickly lashed eyes, and from her angle, she couldn't even see the color.
"Where to?"
Now that they were out of the wind, she could hear his voice clearly. It was deep, and had an oddly musical resonance. He had a slight accent, but she was unable to place it with such a short sample of his speech. She still wasn't willing to have him take her right to her door. After all, she didn't know so much as his name. She had to tell him something though, so she gave him the address of the Black Java Coffeehouse across the alley from her building. That sort of killed two birds with one stone anyway. She could buy him a coffee to thank him, and it would be a short run home from there.
He pulled out of the lot carefully. Visibility was next door to non-existent and the roads were treacherously slick. It was going to be a long drive. Even under the best conditions, it was nearly twenty minutes from the college into town. At the rate they were being forced to travel, it would likely take twice that. They passed the trip into town without another word. He was concentrating on the road, and she didn't want to distract him. Unfortunately, this left her locked in her own thoughts. It had been had been a night like this when her parents…she jerked her thoughts forcibly back to the present, but not before the guilt rose in a crushing wave. Try as she might her thoughts kept circling back to that night, haunting her. It made the ride seem interminable.
Once they reached the outskirts of town, she literally felt him relax beside her. About a block from the Black Java, she asked him if he had time to stop for a coffee. He grunted noncommittally, but when they got there, he pulled into the parking spot closest to the door. Guess that means yes, Megan thought. The heat hit them like a furnace blast the moment they stepped inside. Stomping her feet to remove the snow from her boots, she pushed back her hood and unwound the scarf she had twisted around her head. Her curly black hair tumbled in a disorderly cascade well past her shoulders. She was vaguely aware of her companion's eyes on her as she headed toward her favorite booth in the back corner. The Black Java was a funky little place, and it catered to a very diverse crowd. It was one of her favorite places. She loved to sit with her back to the wall and watch the interplay between them.
Megan slipped her jacket off completely as soon as she was settled in the booth. It was plenty warm in the room, and she didn't want to freeze again on the way home. While her guest got himself organized and removed his army issue parka, she had a chance to look him over. Tall and very broad shouldered, there didn't appear to be an extra ounce of fat on him anywhere. She'd have seen it if there were, because both his jeans and his black t-shirt were skintight. His hair was a gorgeous copper blond and hung in gleaming waves to his shoulders. It lent an angelic cast to his firm chiseled features. When he turned to look at her however, her breath caught in her throat. She had never seen eyes like his. Bright green, almost the color of new grass, they made her own blue ones look grey and insipid by comparison. She would never understand why people told her how strikingly exotic they looked in combination with her raven hair, she thought they were plain. His were still and deep too, so deep she felt as if they were drowning in them. She shuddered slightly at the peculiar tingle that rushed through her as he smiled.
His amusement was equally evident in his voice. "Well, do I pass inspection?"
Megan had the good grace to blush before answering him. "I'm sorry. I'm not normally that rude." When he didn't answer her, she grew a little nervous. "Thank you for the rescue by the way, Mr….?" At her pointed inquiry, his smile grew brighter, became impossibly devastating. She'd have been willing to bet he was a real lady killer before, now she was certain of it. She could feel a wave of warmth coursing through her that could only mean one thing. It was extremely unsettling, considering she had sworn to celibacy nearly six years earlier, shortly after turning nineteen.
"O'Denison. Thor O'Denison." Seeing the look on her face, he laughed. It was a throaty, rumbling sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. For some reason, just hearing it made her smile. "My mother, bless her wicked little heart, had a nasty sense of humor."
She placed his accent as he spoke, or at least she thought so. It was a little confusing. He sounded vaguely Scandinavian, but there was something harsher, more guttural, about it. Somehow, it was an intriguing amalgam. "She must have done." Megan smiled. "I'm Megan Wayne."
"Pleased to meet you, Megan Wayne." The hand he held out was so large it swallowed hers, completely engulfing it. His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, as he felt a tremor go through her when he didn't let it go. His callused thumb stroked lightly over the inside of her wrist, drawing slow circles as he continued. "Do you mind if I pry a little and ask what you were doing out in a blizzard in the dark?"
"It’s a long story," she began, then faltered. The sensations emanating from her wrist were disturbing. She wanted to pull her hand away, but for some reason she couldn't. It was distracting. His eyes stroked her, wandering over her face and down the length of her slender body. All thought of celibacy was fading as his words lulled her, caressing her ears, quietly questioning her. She didn't mean to tell him anything about herself, but somehow she did. The slow, steady circling of his thumb had an almost hypnotic effect on her and she found herself babbling like an idiot. She found herself watching his hand, unable to stop herself. As she told him about her parents' death, the fear and guilt rose in her throat, warring with the sensual warmth that was raging through her. Despite the fear, she continued to talk, telling him everything about her job, her home, and herself. All her deepest thoughts were being laid bare, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Some small part of her gibbered in panic, screaming vainly for help, praying someone would make him stop. No one did. She glanced up at his face then, looked straight into those bottomless emerald eyes. It was a mistake. As she felt herself sinking into them, going down forever in their depths, she knew that her life was about to change, had changed, irrevocably.
(c) M.C. Sak 1999