Winters Woe

!!CONTENT WARNING!!

Just a heads up, this first chapter involves violence and blood. Viewer discretion is advised.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is a slow burn romance. I'll be taking my time developing the characters. I want the erotic moments to feel earned.

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Chapter 1

Crimson Snow

[Derrick]

Despite the layers I wore, the cold wind cut deep beneath my skin. My hands moved swiftly as I kept up with my opponent. He struck at me with a rather thick hunting knife--each stab coming dangerously close to doing me in. We had been at it for a while now ... both of us doing our best to survive.

Our ammunition had already been long drained, and now all we had left was our close-combat gear. The sharp sounds from our blades connecting rang out, travelling down into the valley below. Snow fell gently, but the wind was picking up its pace. I could feel the sweat that left my body freeze upon contact with the open air. Even if I survived this job, I honestly doubt I'd be able to escape this frozen wasteland!

I was hired to kill a fellow hitman, Sebastian Quinn, about three months ago. Took me the entire three to track his ass down--and where do I find him? In the deepest part of Alaska. Only real downside was that he caught wind of me and ran. I hunted him for hours out in the wild, until finally cornering him on a snowy hilltop. We emptied our guns relatively fast. Thankfully I did bring my dagger--a Scottish Dirk--along with me. It had range compared to Sebastian's hunting knife, but the teeth on his blade were doing a number on me. So far I had three wounds: a cut on my left leg, a gash on my right arm, and a puncture wound on the lower right of my stomach. Good thing my appendix was removed when I was twelve.

Tragically, he had barely a scratch on him. As much as it wounds my pride, I had to admit that this guy was much better than me. It's only my immaculate reaction-time and high pain tolerance that has kept me alive thus far.

Our feet moved almost in sync with one another ... like a blood-soaked dance. Thrust, parry, riposte. Over and over again in grueling repetition!

I had new cuts all over my hands now--his knife cutting past my gloves. Eventually he parried me, slicing into my hand so that I dropped my dagger. It became obscured in the deep snow--lost, and the follow-up was a heavy kick! The entire weight of my body fell into the snow.

Sebastian lunged at me; his knife gripped with both hands. I caught his wrists before that serrated blade could reach my skin. He crawled up me, straddled me, and pushed his knee into the wound at my stomach. It didn't bother me that much. I kept on with holding back his knife. The knife's tip kept creeping closer and closer to my throat. My eyes frantically looked around for something, anything, to use as a weapon, and that's when I noticed it. A gleam in the snow. My dagger was within range. But Sebastian was much stronger than me, and if I attempted to hold back his wrists with one hand, that blade would be cutting into my trachea.

"Think Derrick, think!" I thought to myself.

That's when it hit me. An idea. A painful one, but the only one I could think of.

I did my best to push the knife horizontally down the length of my neck as far as I could as to make sure it wouldn't hit anything vital. When I got it to a spot that I felt comfortable with I released both of my hands. The hunting knife lodged itself into the crook of my neck. To ensure he couldn't do any more damage, I lifted my left hand and firmly placed it on top of his knife's pommel--keeping it in place. Then, as fast as I could, I rummaged around in the snow until my fingers wrapped around my dagger's handle. Without holding a single thing back, I plunged the entire length of my blade into Sebastian's side, repeating the motion over and over again. He screamed out, trying to get away from me, but I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking him in place. It took about twenty-five stabs, but eventually his bodyweight slumped over onto me. He was finally dead.

First thing I did was push him off me... the bastard. Then I checked his pulse just to make sure. Can never be too careful.

I looked around, carefully surveying my surroundings. The vast stretch of snow-caked forest went on forever. Sounds of woodland creatures were sparse, and I couldn't see anything that would help me in any direction.

"Heh... Hehe..." The giggles rose out of my throat of their own volition. I found this whole situation humorous.

It was getting dark. It was freezing cold. Not to mention I'm hours away from civilization. And I have a fucking knife in my neck! I'm going to die in Alaska. Definitely not where I figured my death would take place but, hey, at least I went out fighting. There's honor in that right? Yeah, probably not. I kill people for money. It's just a guess, but there most likely isn't any honor to be found in my death. Unfortunately, I can't tell where I traveled from--the fight left me disoriented, and the snowfall covered all our tracks. Best to just start walking.

I was not sure what direction I should go in, so I took a quick look at the mini compass I had in my coat and decided to head east. I've never watched a movie where someone declared that east would lead to safety. Therefore, I felt like it might work out for me. Oddly enough I have been a pretty lucky person my whole life. So rather, if east fails me, I'd be really bummed out.

Step by step I walked forward; each one getting me closer to--hopefully--something. The effort it took to track down Sebastian definitely presaged this outcome. His combat skills were exquisite. I should have known that he was A-list. And if I had, I wouldn't have taken the job.

Dappled rays of the falling sun landed on my face; the large tree overhead restricting a lot of its glow. Judging by my clear vision and sound mind I would have to guess that my carotid artery wasn't severed. Surprising considering the length and size of the knife still stuck soundly within my flesh. Would it be too late to pray to God? I wasn't sure if I believed in a God--but even if I did, it would seem kind of sleazy to come crawling to him now.

"Lord, I've been nothing but an awful person my whole life. I have been an asshole for most of my years. Also, I kill for money. But now that I'm about to die, I've chosen to repent. All good my man?" I spoke in a snarky tone.

Trying to joke with myself was helping, but not much.

Pressing my full bodyweight into a tree helped stop what would have been a nasty fall. I was getting dizzy. Behind me was a long trail of blood. Looking at it made me acutely aware of how much of it I had lost thus far. Surprised that a wild predator hadn't caught up with me yet. If a bear attacked, I doubt my dirk would be of much use. Are there even bears in Alaska? Probably.

There wasn't much around me but trees and snow. Dizziness began weighing me down, and I was sure that the blood loss was catching up with me. A thick branch tripped me up and I went tumbling down a steep hill. The fall was long. From tree to stump ... I slammed into all of it. While recovering I did a pressure check, looking for any broken bones; found none thankfully. I pushed myself up to my feet with the last of my strength and kept moving. I just had to keep moving. Keep moving. Keep... "Shit!"

My entire right leg was submerged in deep water. I was pissed about it, but not for long. I turned my head to the right, only to be distracted by the gorgeous sight my eyes gazed upon. A lake lay before me--and while small in size, it was still breathtaking. The sheer ice reflected the falling sun beautifully, casting a unique dissimilarity between the golden light and pitch waters below. Upon staring long enough I noticed that a dark figure was standing on the other side of the lake. I attempted to focus my eyes in that direction, only for the figure to vanish in a blink. I guess I'm at the hallucination stage of blood loss.

I groaned, pulled my leg out of the freezing grip, and kept onwards. There was no reason to try and dry off my leg or anything. I've accepted by this point that I'm dead. I guess I'm now just looking for a pristine spot to take my last breath. Interestingly enough, I am not at all afraid.

Five minutes passed before I could no long walk. My waterlogged leg was dragging behind me, and my will to go on had burnt out. Around me was an ordinary cluster of trees. Not exactly the spot I'd hoped for; though I doubt one in my position can be so picky. All I wanted was to be found one day, frozen, dead, laying on a stone in a magical looking clearing. None would know exactly what happened to me, and stories would flutter about for ages. Was I some fallen hero? A tragic lover, desperately searching for the one who owns his heart? Or maybe they'd think I was just some schmuck ... lost my way during a hiking trip, perhaps. Well, guess it doesn't matter anymore. I can't feel my legs ... can't feel anything actually. A numbness washed over me with nary a hint of warmth. How sad. I almost wanted to cry, which I found odd; I haven't cried since I was ten. Weird to want to now.

I could feel my eyes getting heavy. Every bit of my weight--all one-hundred and eighty pounds of it--sank into the thick snow below me. Every inch was being cradled in cold arms, like a kid being held by a mother who doesn't love them. This is it. I can feel myself drifting... falling... sinking... all the way down into an endless void.

It's cold. So utterly cold.

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I swam for a while in an ocean of black water. There was another ocean above me in place of the sky--its water crystal blue and occupied by Trillions of people. They drifted above me--smiling, laughing, and not one of them acknowledged the pitch waters above their heads. At first, I felt jealous of all those people--it looked like they were having nothing but fun. And yet a second later I became content with where I was. I was used to watching the world around me stay in constant motion. This seemed no different.

After a while of drifting, I decided to dunk my head underwater. I pushed myself about, enjoying the murky bliss. This went on for some time, only ending once my limbs started taking me down. I was descending. The further I traveled the warmer it got, and still deeper and deeper I went. The heat was growing fast, and the source of the warmth soon became visible.

Endless flames.

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Crackling of a fireplace gently woke me. I felt almost comfortable. I say almost because my wounds still stung, but I'm in better shape than before. I went to open my eyes but quickly stopped myself. Awareness set in. Where even am I? I had no idea how I got here, nor where here even was. I ever so slightly peeled back the curtains on my eyes. First thing I noticed was the incredibly warm blanket that was wrapped tightly around me. My hands told me that the blanket was made of fur, but of what animal I could not say. The color was white--so polar bear? Or maybe artic fox? All I knew for sure was that it was the warmest blanket I had ever slept under. Moving on to smells, the air around me was filled with burnt cherry--most likely caused by the fireplace. Since I was facing said fireplace, I couldn't get a good look at my surroundings.

After drawing in a long breathe I laid still for a long moment. It proved difficult to drown out the crackling of wood, but beyond that I felt no other presence. Covertly glimpsing over my shoulder further confirmed that I was indeed alone. On closer inspection I could tell that I was in a cabin. Its construction looked relatively new; maybe made within the last ten, fifteen, years.

'Lived in' would be an understatement. There were dirty dishes, cloths strewn about--other assorted messes, and yet it felt homey. Like a place where you'd want to escape to for the weekend. The living room I was situated in had a high ceiling, but the square-footage overall looked to be small. Probably to make heating it easier. While I did try to get up, the pain sat me right back down--I didn't see standing in my near future. Off to the right of the room, and opposite the kitchen, was a spiral staircase that rose into what seemed like a loft. There was also a hallway adjacent to my position. Not a bad place. Not bad at all.

Vigorous gusts of wind whirled around outside. The cabin let out creaks and squeaks, layering in a haunting atmosphere.

Wind and the crackling of firewood ... that was about all for the noise. Due to the state of my injuries, I figured the maximum amount of time that could have passed couldn't have exceeded more than a few days ... a week at the longest. It was dark out, and the pitch surroundings were somber. I could already feel my body being lulled back to slumber. That was until the front door opened, letting in a horrific screech of the wind. Stepping inside was a man who seemed well-worn. He looked to be only a few inches taller than me; somewhere around six-foot-three I'd say. His hair was brown, and while I couldn't discern the color of his eyes, they were big and prominent. His body ceased movement, but only briefly--his gaze locked on me. His lips opened slowly, and he spoke. His words were grizzly but equally smooth.

"Hm... Finally awake, are you?" When those words hit me, spoken in his deep voice, I felt a shudder travel up my spine. Damn.