***THIS IS FAN FICTION. I DID NOT CREATE ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS***
Frost's lips left mine in a gasp of both fright and exertion. I opened my eyes, heart still pounding in my chest, desire and need flowing through me, as saw the intruder throw my lover across the room and against the wall. The intruder raised his gun, an old revolver from the wild west, and pointed it at my lover. After a second, he pointed it at me, then back at Frost who was now standing and brushing the dust off of his pure white skin. The look in his eyes was pure hatred and I could feel the power emanating from him as he prepared to both defend me and avenge his wonder pride by tearing this intruder apart.
I covered my nakedness with the red, satin sheets and looked up at the man. He was weather beaten and tired. His dark hair was graying at the temples and his blue jeans had faded arches from the gun holsters he wore low across his hips would swing and rub as he walked. He only had one gun drawn, however. This seemed curious - leave it to my detective side to wonder about such things while the Killing Frost was standing at gunpoint - that he would only have one gun drawn when he faced two advisories. I looked at his closest hand, his right hand, and saw the reason why he only chose to use his left hand and left pistol. ...his right index and middle finger where gone. The damaged tissue surrounding them was hastily bandaged with a rag and his boots and jeans were wet and sandy.
"Where did you come from?" I asked, without thinking.
The man pointed his gun at me just in time. Frost was about to charge the man and accept getting shot, gambling that the man's bullets were not made of cold steel. But now that the gun was pointed at me Frost hesitated long enough for me to interrogate the man.
"Who are you, las? Speak true I ask you my time is short!" He pulled the hammer back on the revolver. "And my patients draws to its end. What land is this?"
