Snowbound Rescue
1036 Words
Snow fell in soft, endless waves, each flake glinting beneath the headlights of Holly Winters’ beat-up Subaru as it crawled up the mountain road. Christmas lights twinkled faintly from the distant town below, but here, higher in the pines, there was only darkness, snow, and the hum of her overworked heater.
“Just a few more miles,” she murmured, her voice fogging in the chill. The air smelled like pine and ice and memories.
It had been five years since she’d been back to her grandmother’s cabin, a small log home tucked deep in the woods near Silvercrest Ridge. The will had transferred it to her two months ago, and after her breakup and losing her job, the idea of escaping the city had sounded perfect. A quiet Christmas in the snow. No crowds, no expectations.
Just peace.
The road curved sharply, tires crunching over ice. Holly gripped the wheel tighter, leaning forward. The GPS had long since stopped tracking, replaced by nothing but a blinking red dot and the endless whisper of the storm.
And then.... headlights.
A pair of golden orbs flashed across the road.
“s**t!” Holly slammed the brakes. The car skidded, fishtailing on the slick pavement. She felt it spin, one, two heart-stopping turns, before the world tipped sideways. Her scream was swallowed by the crunch of metal and snow as the car slammed into a drift and shuddered to a halt.
Silence.
Her hands were trembling. Airbag deployed, snow seeping through the cracked window. Her heart pounded in her ears.
Then movement outside. A shadow between the trees.
Holly froze. “Hello?” Her voice cracked, barely audible.
Something moved closer. Tall. Broad. Human-shaped, but moving with the effortless silence of a predator.
Before panic could root too deep, the figure stepped into the beam of her shattered headlight, and she stopped breathing.
A man stood there, snow clinging to his dark coat, the storm painting frost through his hair. His eyes, sharp and pale gray, almost silver, locked onto hers through the broken glass. His presence was magnetic, commanding, and somehow… wrong, like the air around him vibrated differently.
He rapped on the door, voice deep and calm. “Are you hurt?”
She swallowed hard. “No—I don’t think so.”
“Can you move?”
“Yeah, I just—” She fumbled with the seatbelt. “The door’s jammed.”
Without another word, he grasped the handle and pulled. Metal groaned, then gave way under his grip as if it were nothing. He crouched, offering his hand. The heat of it burned through her glove.
When she stepped out, her knees wobbled. He caught her by the elbow, steadying her easily.
“Careful,” he murmured. “The embankment’s steep here.”
“Thank you. I—I didn’t see you on the road. I thought you were—” She trailed off. What? An animal? A ghost?
He tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips. “A wolf, maybe?”
Her pulse stuttered. “How did you—?”
“It’s the season for them,” he said softly, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on crashing my car.” She tried to sound brave, but her voice trembled.
He studied her for a long moment and something changed in his expression. The teasing hint disappeared. His nostrils flared slightly, and his pupils darkened, swallowing the silver into a stormy gray. His grip on her elbow tightened fractionally.
Mate.
The word wasn’t spoken aloud, but it thundered through his mind, an ancient, primal roar that made his heart stutter. His wolf surged against the edges of his control, claws scraping against the inside of his skin.
She’s ours.
No. Rowan forced the thought down, his breath misting in the cold. She’s human.
But her scent.... goddess, her scent. It was like honey and pine sap and the first breath of winter after rain. It wrapped around him, intoxicating, impossible to ignore. Every cell in his body screamed to pull her closer, to bury his face in her hair, to mark.
He clenched his jaw instead. “You’re lucky I was nearby,” he said, voice low and rough. “There aren’t many travelers up here this time of year.”
Holly blinked up at him, brushing snow from her hair. “You live around here?”
“In a way.” His gaze flicked toward the forest. “My home’s not far.”
A gust of wind whipped past, and she shivered violently. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. The scent of pine, smoke, and something wild enveloped her.
“You’ll freeze if you stay out here,” he said. “There’s a cabin not far. I can take you there, and tomorrow we’ll see about getting your car towed.”
Her first instinct was to protest, to say she didn’t know him but something in his eyes made the words die on her tongue. He radiated safety and danger all at once, like standing too close to a fire. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Rowan inclined his head once and guided her toward the woods. His touch was steady but careful, as though he were afraid she might break.
Snow fell thicker, blanketing the trees in white silence. Beneath the hush, Holly could swear she heard a faint howl echoing through the distance, long and low, haunting. It raised goosebumps on her skin.
Rowan stiffened beside her.
“Wolves?” she asked quietly.
He hesitated. “Yes,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “They’re closer than they should be.”
As they reached the forest’s edge, she looked back once, her car half-buried in snow, taillights glowing dimly through the drift, and then forward again at the stranger leading her deeper into the woods.
She didn’t know it yet, but she’d just stepped across an invisible boundary, into a world where monsters had names, and one of them had just found his mate.
- Writer
