Ryder hadn't been this close to any other man in years and as much as he tried not to feel spooned or awkward with the intimacy required to get the job done, he couldn't help noting and almost appreciating the fact that the man had a broad chest and therefore fitted in the fine physique genre.
This revelation scared him. And to think he'd stopped having emotions entirely.
These circumstances were too far-fetched for their good. Ryder also tried to ignore the stranger's weight and familiar scent of musk and cinnamon but was ardently aware of every muscle he used in descending the hilltop. He was tough and lean, nothing too big and he held his silence except the sharp intake of breath he drew in every two seconds.
Ryder pushed the graying thoughts to the back of his mind, choosing to concentrate on where they were headed. From the hill slope, the cabin home looked ominous with a thick brick-walled fence around it with no gate and his neighbor Dolly's apartment huddled back across the road leading to the main town. The cabin had been uninhabited for decades, merely belonging to unknown locals. His inheritance was huge and he had quite a handsome amount to rent a real home but the cabin... had something about it that just pulled his whiskers in.
Up until now, he'd lived isolated and standing against the world with no one by his side. No one returned with him each time he took a stroll into the forest or walked to town. He always came back alone.
But this cold December morning was different.
Downhill, their movements slowed considerably. Ryder hurried as quickly as he could but hunched beside a limping body, he had to act the snail in order not to pep up the bleeding again. They neared the front landing, pausing so he'd take out his key and swing open the door. The sofa wasn't an option and he hated having anyone in his bedroom — his sanctuary of rest. But there was always a time when rules could be bent to fit the situation. Their feet dragged against the floor, the bed not so far away. Sliding onto it, he groaned as Ryder propped the pillows, he groaned as Ryder propped the pillows to make him more comfortable.
He was hardly conscious now, for Ryder feared he laid so still. His temperature had fallen but the pulse at his wrist was discouraging.
His skin had become pale and sharp like white bread that he shivered too hard. Ryder took his large hands in his, rubbing at it slowly to restore circulation. With his clothes wet from the snow, Ryder had to get him warmer or the fever might increase. Also, his injury had to be wrapped up properly.
So much work to be done.
The cabin managed a small hearth right there in the bedroom and he'd taken in some dry logs from the woods the day before so it took no problems setting up a fire. Within minutes, the flames bristled and he turned to find the stranger watching his silently.
Ryder tilted his head back, amazed that a stare could make him so self-conscious. Maybe it was because nobody had ever looked at him this close or taken an interest in studying his features the way this stranger did, and his blue eyes had their dose of mystery — the perfect spear was driven into him.
He hated soul readers.
"Where the fuck am I?" his tone was faint even as he swore.
"Home."
"I've got no..." he trailed off, strength barely able to contain him. Watching his eyes jam shut, Ryder realized he'd been breathing hard. This wasn't happening, was it? He dealt his face a sharp blow to make sure, wincing as it stung. It was real, the stranger was real and all these were real.
Going on his knees beside the body, Ryder reached out for the medical kit beneath his bed. It'd been long he'd used it and there was never a time when he administered himself or any other person.
But he believed he'd learn when he'd get to work.
Watching him passed out, Ryder found the circumstances a bit manageable until it came to the undressing part. The way he thought about it, it was insipid to witness another man's nudity. Which was why he wished the boxer briefs would be dry or damp a little to save him the embarrassment.
The injury had to be taken care of with soft cotton and solution, then he'd apply some aloe and pack it up with a bandage.
Easy peasy.
Taking off his jacket took hours since Ryder had to move him slowly in order not to ignite the bleeding. He was a bit warmer now, his shirt buttons coming off before Ryder even touched them. The fair muscled chest would have looked a lot nicer if not scarred by a gaping hole close to the middle.
He cleaned the wound next, ignoring the faint rambling of his patient. Undoing a wrap of bandage, he carefully fixed it around the solid chest, heading down to his pants.
It came off faster, his legs firm and equally lean; toned. Ryder feasted his eyes for a moment, reluctantly tugging at the black shorts to check if they were dry.
Unfortunately, it was.
Dissolving some white tablets into a glass of water, Ryder lifted the man's head and forced him to gulp most of it down. Drawing back to study him, a gasp of surprise escaped his lips when his patient latched a tight grip onto his arm.
"Do not call anyone," he growled, nails digging onto Ryder's wrist. "No one, you dog."
"You need a doctor!" Ryder shot back.
"I've had to enough of you already. I don't need anyone else," he said without pain or anguish that his heart bled.
"If that is what you want, I'm prepared to obey. But I promise to not sit back and watch you die."
His eyes widened in wonder as he'd just received a rude shock. Ryder looked up at his soft golden ringlets which appeared enchanting and could be nice to touch. He released him, falling back on the bed in satisfaction.
It was strange to feel something for someone so rude and Ryder thought he was becoming crazy — the threat strengthening his resolve. Surely, both of them now had something in common; they both wanted nothing to do with the locals but their reasons were different.
He stood up with the coat and pants, hanging them over the fireplace to dry. He'd need them for Ryder had no oversized clothes to spare or share. His left hand settled on something metal in his patient's pant pockets. Carefully dipping a hand in, he pulled out a pistol and screamed.
Not out loud at least.
He'd never come in contact with arms before but he knew what they were and how deadly it could be when fired. He backed away from the death aid then willed himself to pick it up and hurl it out into the snow. That assured him of safety for the first time that morning.
The gun meant something and although he promised not to call anyone, betrayal crept up as he picked up his cell. The phone was dead obviously which heightened his fears. What if this stranger decided to kill him? He'd already known too much.
It all came down to fate. They were both stuck in here for the latter part. The snow could go on for days and no human dared pitch against the raging blizzard. The howling wind rattled the windows and made the flames behind him cackle. It'd been seven years when he'd been together with someone last. The one he'd lost to death and imposed this self-exile on him. Now, he wasn't sure if the hope he sought came in form of this stranger.