Page 20 of Alaska Lights

“Whoa, whoa, it’s alright. Don’t move too fast. Do you remember what happened? Do you know your name?”

So many questions.

Why is he so loud?

I hold my hands on my head, urging the throbbing ache to go away.

“Did you drug me?” I manage to say through a few of the words slurring together.

“What? No, ‘course not. You were in a plane crash.”

I scrub my eyes and sit up, leaning against the headboard to keep myself upright. Opening my eyes fully, the blurriness takes a few seconds to pass, but when it does, my eyes roam up a very tall figure.

His head is bent down to look at me, and I take a sharp inhale, holding my breath when I see him.

My heart thuds in my chest, a loud pound I can hear in my ears. My palms sweat.

He’s so damn handsome, he steals my ability to put two thoughts together.

I’ve never found another man handsome before. Did I hit my head too hard in the crash?

Why do I feel this way? He’s looking at me with so much intensity; I can feel it in my soul, in my body, as if I’m being called to him.

He has dark brown shoulder-length hair that makes my fingers twitch to run through the strands. I bet they are softer than they look. He has an unruly beard to match; it’s thick and coarse, just what I imagined a cowboy to have.

Not that I imagine cowboys. He’s the first.

His eyes would match his hair if it weren’t for the red hue emanating from them.

Contacts, maybe? Interesting.

“The plane,” I whisper, having to look away from him in order to get my thoughts together. “There was a fuel leak. The engine caught fire.” Memories come rushing back of the plane falling to pieces. “I tried to land it. I did my best⁠—”

“—Hey, no, none of that. Don’t blame yourself.” He takes a step away to put some space between us.

I wonder if he feels the connection between us too.

“You did what you could in a horrible, terrifying situation. You should be proud of yourself that you landed like you did. Any different, I’m not sure if you’d be here right now.”

I glance around the room, noting a simple dresser to the left, a walk-in closet to the right, and I’m sure that’s a bathroom back there that’s connected. Also, there’s the giant, comfortable king-size bed I’m lying on.

“Where is here?”

“Oh, right.” He holds out his hand for me to take and, at the same time, takes off his cowboy hat, holding it behind his back. “I’m Alaska. I own Dead Man’s Ranch.”

My eyes widen when I hear the name. I’ve heard stories of Alaska, and none of them have been good. Everyone complains about how much of an ass he is.

He doesn’t seem so bad to me.

I clear my throat and meet his blood-covered hand with mine. “Helios Athanatos. My friends call me Leo. I was supposed to bring you your supplies. Sorry about that. I don’t know what happened.”

When our palms meet, electricity zaps up my arm, through my veins, and to my chest. His thumb brushes back and forth over a spot I had no idea I liked touched. For being such a giant, his touch is so soft.

Why am I noticing his touch?

Maybe I feel this way because he saved me.

“Don’t apologize. It was out of your control. As for the supplies, we salvaged some of it. It’s nice to meet you, Helios Athanatos. Interesting name. It suits you.”