Rude Awakening Read Free

screamed that he reach for his phone and call for help.
    “Jesus Christ!”
    He dropped the spare coat—a violent splash of crimson—and went down on his knees, tucking his hands beneath her and dragging her towards him. With her torso draped across his thighs, he cradled her head in one arm and snatched the glove off his free hand with his teeth. Hand trembling, he touched two fingers to her neck…which bore what he recognised as a collar. He was relieved to find a faint pulse—but it was extremely faint, and if she stayed out here much longer it would fade completely. With some difficulty, due to her floppy body and his arms seizing up from the cold, he managed to wrap her in the coat, conscious of the blue tinge growing rapidly around her plump mouth. He laid her on the ground then stood, scooping her into his arms. He estimated her weight at not much more than one hundred pounds, and the brief thought entered his head as to how she had become so thin or whether she’d always been that way.
    Holding her close, he staggered back the way he had come, using the path he’d created. His house seemed too far, mocking him from the distance, and he upped his pace, clenching his teeth against the throb of his protesting thigh muscles. At last he reached home, and, lifting one knee so he could balance her back across it, he managed to push open the door without dropping her.
    Inside, heat smacked him with as much ferocity as the wind had when he’d first come out, and he slammed the door shut with his boot sole. Quickly, he moved into the living room, placing her on the deep-pile rug before the fire, wondering if that was the right thing to do. So much heat after so much cold might make her ill. Whatever—he followed his instincts and removed the coat and her clothes, tossing them aside. He laid her out on her back and checked her pulse again—still faint but there—and massaged her limbs for what seemed a great length of time. He noted he still wore one glove but dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter, so long as he brought warmth to her body.
    Would she wake? Should he call an ambulance? How long would it take for one to arrive in this weather? His house was out in the sticks, the roads virtually impassable. He’d been lucky to get home tonight, his car slewing all over the road, snide ice lurking beneath the snow. So long as she was alive, he determined it would be okay to continue what he was doing.
    The snow in her hair melted, leaving dark patches on the rug. Her lips gradually lost their blueness, a rosy pink replacing the previously frightening colour, and her cheek closest to the fire took on the red of warmth, not the raw scarlet of cold.
    Her eyelids flickered, and he sucked in a sharp breath when they opened fully and bright blue eyes stared back at him. He breathed out, so pleased to see her awake, and smiled to give her reassurance.
    “I found you outside,” he said, feeling stupid in stating the obvious.
    She struggled to get up, eyes growing wider, darting from side to side in panic.
    “It’s all right, I won’t hurt you,” he said, unsure what the hell to say to take that scared, pained look from her face. “What were you doing outside? Is there someone I can call? Family, so they can come and collect you?”
    She shook her head, leaning back on her elbows, ribcage prominent like a fishing creel covered in skin. He gritted his teeth at the lengths some women went to for what they thought was the perfect figure, when, in fact, he suspected bones dressed in a thin layer of flesh didn’t truly appeal to any man.
    “A hot drink,” he said, standing and holding his hand out. “And a blanket?”
    She nodded again, and he took her hand, tentative to do so at first in case he scared her. But she took it, pitifully bony fingers curling around his, and he led her from the living room and out into the foyer.
    “I have blankets in here,” he said, jerking his head at the coat cupboard. He opened the