The ends of her hair tickling her chin, Mac stood outside the cabin, her eyes trained on the white scenery but not seeing it. The snow fall stopped some time during the night and the sun was attempting to make an appearance, its light bouncing like crystals off the snow. A calm breeze blew through, barely moving the snow-laden trees.
After a tense breakfast, she retreated here to gather her thoughts and sort through the confusing array of feelings that churned in her heart.
I love you.
His three words still echoed in her head. One part of her heart rejoiced, telling her to grab onto that something so infinitely precious with both hands. The other part told her run in the other direction and never look back. The panicky emotion surprised her. Only that morning the thought that this might be more than a series of one-nightstands made her happy. So why was the voicing of the sentiment so scary to her?
Did she return his feelings? Was it love that made her heart swell with longing and tighten with apprehension of the mysterious, uncharted territory? It was daunting the way she needed him. Hardly a simple matter of want, she was being overwhelmed by desire for him. Desire to be close to him and inhale his heady scent. Desire to hear him speak, to listen to the deep tones of his voice, to see him laugh. Desire to have his body locked within hers as they moved so sweetly together.
Had he cast some sort of spell over her?
She shook her head. That made no sense. Why would he, a fine specimen of male deliciousness by anyone's standards, come to the middle of nowhere to hypnotize a plain Jane like herself when he could probably get any woman he wanted without the use of magic?
There were so many differences between them that spelt doom for their budding relationship. He was immortal. She was not. He had a dangerous job in keeping an entire species safe. She was not sure she could handle knowing he went into dangerous situations. He was not only the great mythical bird but had a dark force invading him that could mean the end of the world as humans knew it.
The list was long but the similarities between them railroaded the depressing log. They both had demons to deal with. There was a loneliness they both harbored and understood. They were dynamite together, the lust exploding whenever they were within each other's reach. Even now, it was all she could do not to rush back into his arms and drown in the passion that was sure to ignite.
Ironically the possibility of him losing control of whatever ailed him was less intimidating than her being in love him and vice versa.
Why?
The question barely trailed off before memories she tried to forget gripped her mind. The disapproving stares of her parents mixed in with Grayson standing over her, the latest beating leaving her comatose and aching all over. But as much as she hurt, it was the way her body reacted to his repulsive touch that hurt the most, his words adding insult to injury. Your whore's body is only of use to sinful men who've lost their way. No man can love a slut like you.
His words had weaved themselves into her thought patterns, dominating her actions, diminished her perception of herself and what she was worth. She never realized just how her parents' aloof treatment traumatized her or how thoroughly a dead man controlled her. But another man's face and words rose to overpower the toxic recollections.
I love you.
Aiden's words echoed once more like a ghost's whisper. He'd seen her at her worst, seen her cry, bared the brunt of her temper without provocation yet he made her laugh when she thought she never would again, made her embrace the sexuality a crazed man used against her and because of him she wanted to face the future as more than just a broken woman hiding atop a mountain. Because of him she wanted to be more, to be better. Because of him she already was.
Doubt still crowded in though. She was afraid of losing control of her emotions. Her past showed how ill-equipped she was at handling them. What if she loved only to lose him? Could she deal with another crippling emotional journey?
But avoiding love did not make it go away. Neither did it make the feeling any less intense. She was determined to break the mold of fearful recluse and if this was step one on the path of freeing herself, she would face it head on, glory in the happy, passion filled times and deal with whatever emotional hurdles were thrown her way.
She did not know when they welled up but a tear rolled down her cheek and froze before it hit the ground. A next followed close behind. Then another. She had cried many, many times over the last few years but this time was different. It was freeing. With every tear that fell, a little more of her hurt vanished. With every tear she took back a little more of herself.
With sudden clarity she realized that her retreat to the isolated cabin was a punishment of sorts. Until that moment, she did not realized how much she blamed herself for the events that led to her capture and subsequent torture. Her molester's face crept up like it always did but this time she did not cower. This time she faced it, challenged it, dared it. This time she defeated it. She faced the years of pain and accepted what had been and with a strength she did not know she possessed, she determined what would be.
There would be no more hiding.