He was too damn big, she thought as she struggled to get her arms around him and pull him towards the shore. Finally she gave up and instead grabbed him by the backpack that he thankfully hadn’t lost in the water and dragged him towards land, fighting the strong current every inch of the way.

“Please be breathing, baby,” she said, struggling not to cry. He had to be okay. He was a big tough guy and this was just a minor setback, nothing more.

Somehow she managed to drag him halfway out of the water, but that was all she needed.

“Chris? Baby?” she said, trying to figure out what to do.

Why the hell hadn’t she taken that First Aid course at the Y? Oh, because there was a Buffy the Vampire Slayer nightly mini marathon on television that she just couldn’t miss, she remembered, wishing she wasn’t such a geek.

She wiped the water off his handsome face and ran her fingers through his hair as she tried to figure out what to do. A raspy sound caught her attention and she sighed in relief when she realized it was coming from Chris. The sound of his breathing should scare her and in fact did, but right now she was just so damn happy that he was breathing that she decided to just take what she could.

“Baby, can you wake up?” she asked, leaning over him.

He groaned, but other than that just lay there. She looked around the thick woods for help that she damn well knew wasn’t coming. It was up to her to get him out of here, through the woods and to safety.

They were so screwed.

She didn’t know First Aid, didn’t know squat about navigating her way through the woods and she was pretty damn sure she wasn’t going to be able to lift him.

The man was solid muscle, more than a good foot taller than her and had to outweigh her by a hundred pounds. God, what the hell did they feed him? she wondered, as she struggled to step out of the water and drag him along with her.

It became pretty clear that she wouldn’t be able to get him all the way up the dirt and rock slope to level ground. She needed help that much was clear, but first she needed to get him out of the water before he got sick, not that he wouldn’t get sick from the combination of the cold crisp air and being soak and wet, but it was the only thing she could think of to do.

Five minutes later she had him out of the water and lying on the damp sand as she searched his pockets. It didn’t take long to find the baggie with his two phones and his wallet. She grabbed the one on top, the silver one that didn’t impress her and make her drool with geek-like need.

“Damn it, no signal,” she said, tossing the phone back in the bag. She grabbed the sleek black one and noted the blinking green light. He probably had a message, she thought as she tried to figure out how to open the damn thing.

Five minutes later she was pissed and kind of impressed, but pissed nonetheless that she couldn’t open it. She tossed it back in the bag, sealed it and gently slid it back in his pocket before she turned her attention to his bag. Of course he had a small survival kit with matches and stuff, but that stuff would have to wait until she figured out a way to get him on solid ground and further away from the water.

Or maybe she should just start a fire and hope someone saw it and came to help, she thought as she looked through the rest of his bag. When she spotted a large black handgun she paused. If he didn’t wake up anytime soon it would be up to her to defend them.

Her hand shook as she picked up the gun, careful to keep her fingers as far away from the trigger as she could manage as placed it on a flat gray rock beside her.

She pulled a large black tee shirt out of his bag and laid it over his chest, having absolutely no idea what to do, but she knew she had to get him dry and warm, but that meant getting him up the hill.

She had to try. There was no way she could leave him to freeze. She didn’t know much about survival, but she knew being wet in the cold September night air was bad. It might take her half the night, but she needed to try.

Hoping like hell that she didn’t make his injuries worse, she squatted behind him, grabbed him by arms and nearly whimpered when she couldn’t wrap her hands around his massive biceps. She gave up her hold and grabbed his backpack once again, praying that it wouldn’t snap.


Why the hell was he so cold?

He opened his eyes and was met with pitch black. Oh shit, was he blind? he wondered as the mattress beneath him shivered. His chest hurt every time he inhaled, but at least the sharp stabbing pain in his lung was gone.

By the feel of it, the ribs were still broken, but his lung felt healed, at least healed enough not to make him wish he was dead. That was progress. Soft tissue injuries always healed the fastest, but they still required rest and time.

“Munchkin?” he muttered, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

His mattress let out a relieved sigh.

“You scared the hell out of me!” she whispered accusingly, sounding both relieved and scared.

“What’s going on? Where are we?” he asked, wrapping an arm around his chest as he tried to sit up, but his damn ribs screamed in protest, keeping right where he was.

“Oh, you mean besides you scaring the ever loving hell out of me?” she demanded.

“Yeah, that,” he said dryly as he tried to look around and failed.

Going by the cold air being softly blown over his body and sound of water rushing by they were still by the river. Did she ever f**king listen?

“I thought I told you to run, Munchkin. You shouldn’t be here,” he bit out, wishing he could haul her over his knees and spank the hell out of the beautiful ass of hers.

She let out a cute little snort as she hugged his shoulders more tightly against her. “Did you really think I was going to run off and leave you defenseless?”


That was the wrong f**king choice of words to use on him. Long ago hated memories threatened to surface and he shoved them away and focused on the woman that ignored him and pissed him right the f**k off.

“I wasn’t defenseless,” he spat out through chattering teeth.

“Oh, really? Then what would you call passing out and remaining unconscious for probably twelve hours?” she asked and he didn’t appreciate the sarcastic tone one bit.

“I didn’t pass out. I was resting.”

“Riiiiiiight,” she said, sounding as though she didn’t believe him. “So when you almost drowned, got dragged for an hour and it down poured for probably three hours you were just catching a catnap?”

“Exactly,” he said, trying not to smile at how cute she sounded as his anger faded away. How the hell did she do that to him? He was pissed, beyond pissed that she hadn’t listened to him and hauled her ass out of here and now he was…….calm. He still wasn’t happy that she hadn’t listened to him and worried about her safety, but he wasn’t angry, at least not at her.

Tags: R.L. Mathewson Pyte/Sentinel Fantasy
Source: www.StudyNovels.com
Articles you may like