Page 2 of His Winter Wonderland

Her ankle was still sore, but she was able to stand. However, standing on the hot stones burned her feet. Rubbing the dust from her eyes, she stared left then right. The beast’s howl filled the air, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. Again, she wanted to look back and found herself unable to control her actions in dreamland.

Another howl from behind her sent her into motion. She took off running. She could now see where she was going. But she wished she couldn’t. The view was one of horror. Dead and decaying bodies littered the stone streets of the Wastelands. This was a scene she remembered too well, a day that she remembered too well.

Because of this day, because of this scene, she’d been banished to the Frostlands. The second half of her nightmare always returned her to the worst day of her life. The only thing different was the beast who was chasing her down the stone street. No, there were two differences. She was different.

She was running away from danger instead of towards it. She was afraid of fighting instead of excited by it. And she was weak, not the strong warrior of old. Those were huge differences. The stones dug into her feet as she ran, still in slow motion. Always in slow motion. Like before, the beast was gaining on her.

Winter knew what was coming next. Just like before, his claws would soon sink into her flesh and rip it away from her body. Just like before, he would toss her around like she was a rag doll. And just like before, her death would be slow and painful. Winter continued running, nearly tripping over bodies in her haste to escape the inevitable.

A scream ripped from her throat when the creature grabbed the back of her neck. It jerked her backward. She hit the ground hard and covered her face to keep his claws from scratching her eyes out. She waited for the attack to happen. A roar filled the air. Shivering, she squeezed her eyes shut.

When would he attack? The roar grew louder. Wait. Something was wrong. The creature sounded like it was battling someone else. How could that be? Her nightmare never changed. Yet, this seemed different. Winter wanted to open her eyes to see what was happening around her.

The dream version of her was too afraid. Still cowering, she listened to the battle taking place not too far from her. The screams and snarls coming from both creatures were terrifying. Was this new creature friend or foe? Just because he or she had stepped in didn’t mean he was for her.

This creature could kill her dream beast and then kill her too. This could simply be a new rendition of her nightmare. Karma’s way of raising the bar on her punishment. Give the little wounded bird a glimmer of hope and then steal it away. Winter refused to allow hope to bloom. Sometimes, hope was more dangerous than despair.

This was a nightmare. And it would end as all her nightmares ended, with her death. Winter tensed when one last roar filled the air, followed by an eerie silence that seemed to go on forever. Should she chance it? Should she look up? Dream her didn’t have the guts to do so, so real her was forced to cower.

Where was her spirit animal when she needed it? Where was the demon spirit that dwelled within her when she needed its powers of destruction? She was a goddess of war, a creature created from a trifecta of magic – spirit animal, goddess, demon. Yet, she was too afraid to raise her head.

She listened to the footfalls heading in her direction. These steps were lighter than those of the beast who’d followed her to the Wastelands. The new creature stopped a few inches away from her. She opened her eyes and stared at his feet, still too frightened to look up.

“You’re safe now,” a deep voice told her. “Take my hand. I’ll take you away from here.”

She hated to admit it, but his voice was like a calming balm to dream her. That was a red flag to the real her. But dream her was already relaxing her muscles and trying to work up the nerve to look at him. Winter inhaled deeply then released the breath slowly. ‘I can do this,’ dream her told herself. ‘I can be brave.’ She raised her head. Her gaze drifted up to the outstretched hand.

“Come with me,” the deep voice said.

She lifted her gaze higher until her eyes connected with those of the stranger who’d saved her life. As soon as their gazes met, her breath caught in her throat. She felt an instant connection to the creature who’d saved her. And it probably had something to do with the fact that he was otherworldly handsome, breathtakingly handsome.

His long dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. His jaw was chiseled, so was the rest of him. And she knew that because he was shirtless. But none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered at this moment was his intentions. Was he friend or foe? With his hand still outstretched, he smiled down at her.

His smile seemed kind. But most smiles did. An evil heart could lurk behind a beautiful smile. She and her sisters were said to be the most beautiful women in the Wastelands. They were also the deadliest. When they smiled at you, it usually meant your time was up, and death was near. What was the hidden meaning behind his smile?

“We should get out of here?” He told her. “Creatures who feast on the dead will be arriving soon.”

He was right. The stench from these dead bodies that littered the ground would draw the attention of the vulturine shifters. Knowing that, Winter still didn’t move. The dream had never unfolded this way before. Shouldn’t she be waking up? In previous dreams, she hadn’t been able to control her actions.

There was already a script planned out for her and she’d been forced to follow it. Dream destiny was what she called it. Had that changed after he killed the monster hunting her? There was only one way to find out. Winter attempted to lift her hand. Her hand obeyed. It was like a ball and chain dropped away from her.

A weight was lifted not just from her shoulders but from her entire body, her entire being. Her body, her mind, her soul, it all felt free. For the first time, she was in control of her dreams. When her hand touched his, electricity zipped between them, shocking them both. Her eyes widened. So did his.

“It seems this is fate,” he told her.

Fate? Did she even believe in fate? No, she didn’t. If fate was real, then it was a cruel son of a bitch that needed its ass whooped.

“Get up,” he told her, then proceeded to help her to her feet.

Standing before him, she stared down at her hand that was clasped in his. A dozen thoughts were running wild within her mind. Like, was the beast who haunted her dreams truly dead? Did this mean she’d broken the time loop and this recurring nightmare would now cease happening each night?

Despite the many thoughts plaguing her, one stood out more than the others. And that was the fact that his hand was much larger than hers. Such an insignificant truth. Yet, it was all she could think about at that moment. His palm felt rough, calloused. Similar to her own. This was probably his sword hand.

Like her, he was more than likely a warrior. It wasn’t until a gentle breeze blew hot desert air against her body that she remembered she was naked. The wind kicked up sand from the nearby dunes. They stung her flesh as the wind gusted harder than before. Pulling her hand away from his, she covered her body as much she could.

His gaze didn’t shift from her eyes when he said, “You’re safe with me. Your body is safe with me. That monster will never hurt you again. I’m here now. And I will protect you, tonight and every night, for eternity.”

What did his words mean? And why were they making her heart race? To hide her embarrassment, she jokingly asked, “What about during the day?”