(I'd like to apologise for any geographical or medical inaccuracies but I wrote this off the top of my head. Hope you enjoy and as always feedback is appreciated xxx)
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Alaska was a bitch in the winter. A person could freeze to death if they weren't careful and didn't cover up enough. As it was, Hannah Ossian wore more than enough, but the heater in the car still had to be turned on full blast. It was annoying. God, but how she missed London.
Hannah sighed and focused on the road, the roads here were slicked with ice and flanked by ten to fifteen inches of snow, she was lucky they'd managed to clear this much. Glancing up at the sky she winced at the heavy cotton like grey clouds, they looked so threatening that Hannah fully expected a storm to attack the land at any second. It's the snow storm they've been going on about, she thought grimly. She just hoped that she made it to her cabin before it all came down on her and stranded her out here. Just the thought had her shifting in her seat in fear. Hannah had issues with storms.
As she started on the uphill battle to her cabin, she frowned when she glimpsed something big, dark and shapeless lying on the side of the road. It was such a sharp contrast to the unblemished whiteness of the snow that it was impossible to miss. Hannah squinted. Was it an animal?
Slowing the car down impatiently, Hannah left the engine running as she opened the door, gritting her teeth against the freezing temperature. Quickly she rounded the hood at a slight jog as she peered at the thing warily. And it got a lot bigger as she got closer to it. Her dark hazel eyes widened in astonishment as she saw that 'it' was actually a man lying face down on the snow...and he was surrounded by smears of crimson which stood out amidst the stark whiteness of the snow.
Gasping in alarm, Hannah ran to the unconscious man and regardless that only denim covered her legs, she knelt down beside him and caught at the man's extremely broad shoulders then grunted at the effort it took to turn him on his back.
As she finally managed to turn him, the hood which had been pulled over his head fell back. Hannah sucked in a sharp breath as she caught sight of the unconscious man's face. He was absolutely stunning! His skin was a perfect shade of mocha with an amazing, regal bone structure, his mouth was a touch wide but with deliciously full lips, his eyelashes were black and impossibly long and curling. A wealth of shiny jet black hair framed his face and spilled onto the snow.
Fascinated she reached out without thinking and rubbed a strand of silky hair, it was beautiful hair and impossibly long – it would probably reach to mid back. He was completely devastating...and bleeding. On his dark blue parka over his chest were two bullet holes which were framed in almost black crimson rims.
God, he's been shot! She thought in horror. But somehow that propelled her into action. Glancing at her car she let out a groan at the thought of dragging him across the distance to the car, he would probably just end up with more bruises.
Hannah pulled her gloves off and tossed the two pieces of leather on the snow before reaching for his shoulders and attempting to drag him up. The man weighed a ton! But then again she has never tried to lift an unconscious man before. Then suddenly she felt the intense feeling that you get when you're being watched...it was a really eerie feeling.
Her eyes flicked up and collided with electric aquamarine eyes.
Startled, Hannah gasped and jerked back, letting go of his shoulders abruptly as she moved instinctively away. The guy fell back with a small crunch of the snow and cursed in a low groan of pain. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them into slits and glaring at her with undisguised displeasure.
Hannah snapped herself back into attention and once again knelt over him. "I-I'm sorry, you startled me." She said earnestly and leaned over him to look into his face. "How do you feel?"
"Like I've been shot." He snarled irritably.
Hannah raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed that." She said dryly. Men. They really knew how to be first class pricks...even when injured. "Come on, can you sit up?" She asked as she bent closer to him to slip a supporting arm under his shoulders.
Those incredible eyes narrowed in what seemed like suspicion. "Why?"
"So I can help you up." The look on her face only seemed to irritate him even more. But then what kind of question was that? Wasn't it obvious under the circumstances that she wanted to help him?
That incredible mouth perfected a truly sinister sneer. "Believe me lady, you don't want to help me."
"Well then why would I suggest it?" She was beginning to feel like just leaving the ungrateful idiot to it. Here she was trying to be a good Samaritan and the guy was being an ass. "Look," she began matter-of-factly, "I'm really sorry you've been shot and naturally you're not in a pleasant mood. I can sympathize. However, having said that, there's a snow storm on the way and I want to be home when it hits. Now to be truthful I'd feel a lot better about myself if I didn't leave you here to die of frostbite and blood loss." She arched her eyebrows in question. "So... if you could just cooperate here with me, I'd be very grateful." She finished and watched him to see his reaction. After what seemed like ages, his eyes not changing in expression and staring at her disconcertingly, his head moved in a slight nod of acquiescence. He braced his arm on the snow and pushed up with the help of her supportive arm into a sitting position.
"Okay now, let's try and get you up." She murmured and they both groaned with the effort it took to get him on his feet. "Let's go," she urged, "before you collapse." That comment earned her another glare although she didn't know why, he was obviously in very bad shaped...and that really worried her. There weren't any medical facilities anywhere near by and even if there were, turning around would just ensure that they got trapped in the snow storm. The smartest thing would be to take him to her cabin and try to do something about his wounds with her poor excuse for a first aid. Not that she knew first aid anyway.
They somehow made it to the passenger side and after settling him in the seat she rushed to her trunk and popped it open to extract a thick black blanket. Moving quickly she arranged it over him to ensure he wouldn't develop a worse condition. Then, without so much as a word she slammed the door on his side shut and ran, slipping slightly on the ice, to the driver's side and got in.
