Alaskan Fire (26 page)

Jack picked her up and propped
her up against an upright steering console.  She felt her head loll and her
arms flop around as he shoved her into a lifejacket and zipped it tight around
her.

Though the sleeves were much too
short, Jack was able to close it with room to spare.  Yet more proof that Blaze
was a disproportionate beanpole.  She made an unhappy sound into the
wereverine’s scaly chest.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,
sweetie,” Jack said, stepping behind her to reach the console.  He flipped the
ignition switch and the boat’s engine roared to life.  “But I swear, just hang
with me a little longer, and you’ll be feeling better in the morning.”

Jack was
warm
, Blaze
realized, as she snuggled against him.  He manned the steering wheel with one
hand and kept his other arm wrapped around her, propping her up against him
with the other.  She barely felt the wind hitting her back, the bounces of the vessel’s
bow as it skidded across the water.

Warm, now, Blaze began to snooze.

“Hey,” Jack growled, shaking
her.  “Stay awake, there, princess.”

Blaze jerked awake in
irritation.  “Stop it, you illiterate bastard,” she muttered.  It came out as a
slur.  She frowned.  That was funny.  She didn’t remember drinking…

She felt Jack crane his neck to
look down at her.  “You’re lucky I just spent a bunch of time rescuing you,
wench.  Otherwise I’d just throw your big ass in the river.”

“I don’t have a big ass,” Blaze
slurred.  She was proud of that fact, actually.  Her ass was one of the
only
parts of her that had curves in all the right places.  And oh my
God
she
was warm.  She felt herself sliding into the depths again, and felt her eyes
sliding shut.

“Sure you do,” Jack said, jogging
her body against him.  “Kind of like those pictures of Bigfoot I’ve seen in the
papers. 

Blaze’s attention sharpened and
she scrabbled back to the surface of the Void.  “Bigfoot?” she growled. 

“Yeah,” Jack agreed.  “Real big
ass.  Gorilla-like, almost.”

“You asshole,” she growled.  “Let
go of me.”

“Sorry, princess.  I drop you and
you’re liable to break that massive nose of yours all over again.”

Blaze froze.  She hadn’t thought
her nose was massive. 
Was
her nose massive?  Of all of her, she had
thought it was rather petite.

“Rather equine, if I do say so
myself,” Jack said.  “Hell, with the big feet and the massive nose, I’m still
wondering where that Clydesdale hit your family tree.”

She would kill him.  She strained
to push herself up, but couldn’t manage more than a prolonged twitch of her
left arm.  Her right arm, heavy under the wound in her shoulder, wasn’t
responding properly.  It felt like a dead weight swinging from the joint, and
Blaze wondered again when she’d been drinking.  Then she remembered Jack saying
he’d look for some hard alcohol that the previous owners had left behind, and
she realized that
he
was to blame for her current state of sobriety.

Hell, he’d probably gotten her
drunk so he could add that to his list of trophies:  Tallest Woman Ever Fucked.

“You’re a bastard,” Blaze
slurred.

“And you’re one lucky little bird,”
Jack whispered.

God, she was tired.  She closed
her eyes and rested her head against his scaly black chest.  Just a few minutes…

“Hey!” Jack called, shaking her
rudely.  “We’re almost home, sister.  Just keep your panties on.”

“Why, so you can take them off?”
she slurred.

“Maybe someday, tootz,” Jack
said.  “Maybe once we’re both on sensible, speaking terms, that might actually
be nice.”  She heard him shut the engine off and felt a jolt as the boat
scraped up the shore.  “Until then…”  Jack heaved her over his back again. 
“Just fantasize about my tight, rippling body as I take you home.”  He jumped
out of the boat, into the water, and sloshed towards the bank.

Blaze got splashed, and she
groaned and tried to push herself off his shoulder.  She didn’t even manage to
get her left arm to move this time.  Instead, she found herself staring at his
tight, rippling buttock as it bounced against her face.

He’s a monster,
she
thought, as his exquisite ass moved beneath her lips.  She had to add
‘molestation’ to her list of abuse.  This was definitely something they
prosecuted for, back in the real world.  Ranked right up there with bestiality
and masturbating in public.

She felt him jog up the trail,
her still face slapping against his tight posterior.

He is so dead,
Blaze
thought. 
Gets me drunk, then hauls me around like a sack of potatoes
instead of throwing me to the ground and ravishing me properly.  He must have
some sort of pony fetish.
  It would explain the stubborn mule syndrome. 
She’d have to ask him, later.  Pony fetishes she could handle, as long as there
was good sex involved.  Broadswords and leather armor, though…

Well, she thought, remembering
his geeky getup, as long as
she
wasn’t the one carrying the broadsword,
she supposed she could handle it.

…Which brought a new train of
thought skidding to a startled stop in her brain.  Jack, naked, with a couple
of these pretty reproductions he was carrying slung across his muscular body
and strapped to his narrow hips.  Now
there
was an image she could use
next time she was bored.  Hell, she’d be using it now, if she weren’t so
totally wasted.  What did he
give
her?  She hadn’t felt this out of it
since drinking a fifth of tequila as a sophomore back in the dorms.

“Still alive back there, missy?”

That, and her chest hurt.  And
her limbs hurt.  And her ribs hurt.  And her face hurt.  It felt like someone
was tracing coals through her bones and embers through her heart.  She still
tasted vomit, so she was pretty sure she had puked up most of it, whatever it
was, but whatever was left was causing a god-awful reaction.

 Then Jack was laying her down in
the dirt, facing the yellow-green sky.  The sun had dipped beyond the horizon,
and it was at that fleeting time of day when the stars started overtaking the heavens.

Jack blocked her view, his
annoyingly bulky body slipping between her and the spectacle above.  He put his
hand to her forehead, then hissed and yanked it away, shaking it out.

Wuss,
Blaze thought,
automatically.

“Stay there, sweetie,” he said. 
“I’ll be right back.”  She heard inhumanly fast thumping sounds as he ran away,
once more leaving Blaze with a view of the emerging starscape.

From somewhere on the property,
she heard a huge diesel engine start.

That asshole’s using the dozer
without me,
Blaze thought, irritated.  She liked bulldozing.  It was fun,
and it gave her something productive to do that didn’t leave her looking like a
bumbling city-bred idiot.  She should’ve known that he couldn’t handle her
being competent in something, the insecure bastard.  She decided she would
teach him to spell his name as A-S-S-H-O-L-E.  Oh yeah.  Totally. 
Of course
I can help you with that, sweetie!  You want to know how to spell your name? 
Right here.  A-S-S…  Oh, wow, you’re doing great!  H-O-L…  See?  ‘J-aaaa—ck.’ 
Now just finish that final ‘E…’

Then she heard the bulldozer
approaching, and suddenly realized he aimed to run her over.  Blaze whimpered
and babbled that she wasn’t going to teach him to spell it wrong, she was just
joking, she swore.  As the metallic rumble of the tracks grew louder, all she
could think about were her legs.  She couldn’t feel her legs, but she knew—
knew
—he
was going to crush them.  As much as she tried, though, she couldn’t lift her
head far enough to look.

The earth began to rumble under
her, and Blaze’s breath came out in a low, terrified moan.

The engine suddenly fell into an
idle, seemingly right on top of her, and she felt a thump in the earth as Jack
jumped down.

Every breath was coming in a
whimper, and Blaze rolled her eyes to look at his face in horror.  “Please
don’t,” she whispered.

“Oh sweetie,” Jack muttered,
looking torn.  He glanced over his shoulder.  “It’s only gonna be a minute, all
right?  I’ve got to.”

Blaze’s terror ratcheted up a few
more notches and she found a tiny bit of strength in her limbs, enough to flip
herself over and start crawling away from the machine. 

“Come on, now,” Jack growled,
snagging her lifejacket and holding her immobile.  “Stop struggling.  You’re
making yourself bleed.”

For some reason, Blaze thought
she smelled the acrid tinge of burning nylon.

Jack must’ve smelled it, too,
because he frowned and unzipped the life-jacket.  Then, even as Blaze was
trying to bat his hands away, he roughly yanked it off of her, leaving her
wrapped in cold once more.  She whined and curled into a fetal ball.

“Stay there,” Jack growled.  He
got up and she heard the engine rev once more.

It’s the backhoe,
Blaze
thought, listening to the tell-tale metal creak and rattle as it dug out and
redeposited soil in long, swinging arcs.  Then another spike of horror almost
threw her over the edge. 
He’s digging my grave.  He’s gonna bury me, just
like the werewolves.

Then she frowned.  What
werewolves?

Then the backhoe shut off and
Blaze heard another thump.  She heard footsteps, then sprays of soil hitting
the ground.  Then Jack was back in front of her, his hand once again on her
forehead.  “You gonna be okay for another minute, girlie?  I need to go start
the generator and get some water.”

I don’t want water,
Blaze
said,
I want to sleep.

Jack gave her a concerned look
and bit his lip, glancing over his shoulder.  He was still wearing the
ridiculous, blood-stained reproductions.

Blood-stained?

“Okay,” Jack said.  “Stay here,
tootz.  I’ll be back in two minutes, okay?”

Blaze stared at the trampled earth
under her nose, too cold to respond.  She heard him get up and run off, and a
moment later, the generator rumbled on.

She tried to shiver, but couldn’t
seem to find the strength.  The bastard had taken her coat.  Of all the stupid,
asshole things to do.  Even now, she could see it smoldering over in a pile,
just out of reach.

…
Smoldering
?

Blaze strained to focus her eyes
on the little wisps of smoke.  So she
had
smelled burning nylon, she
thought, in triumph.  Not only had the bastard drugged her, but he’d also tried
to set her on fire.

And now he was going to bury
her.  He had her grave all dug out, ready to plant a six-foot-four Yeti. 

The hairy, malicious little
monkey,
Blaze thought.  She would have to get pictures of him and send them
to her mother.  She thought
her
stomach hair was bad…

But her mother was dead.  Car
accident.  Slid through intersection, T-boned by semi,
squish-squish
. 
Blaze giggled, or tried to.  Her breath seemed to be caught in her chest.  For
that matter, her heart felt funny.  She felt her eyes sliding closed again,
felt the warm darkness enveloping her.

“Oh
no
you don’t.” 
Something heavy slammed into her breastbone, and Blaze felt her sluggish heart
give a pitiful twitch.  Whatever it was hit her again, harder, and this time
Blaze felt ribs snap.

“Ow, you asshole!” she screamed,
sitting up.  Or at least tried to.  What actually happened was her abdomen
muscles twitched and she moaned to the sky.

“Okay,” Jack the Asshole said,
moving his knees under her head as he propped her up against him.  “Drink some
of this, all right?”  He brought a cup of liquid to her lips.

Realizing he was trying to get
her even more drunk than she already was, Blaze sputtered and spat it out,
sloshing a good portion of it to the ground.

Above her, Jack the Asshole
stiffened.  She saw his eyes go all slitty and start to glow.  “Listen to me,
you ignorant little pup,” he shouted, long ivory canines sliding out from under
his lips.  He leaned down so that his upside-down face was inescapable and
shoved the glass under her chin.  “If you don’t
drink
this,
right now
,
I’m going to go get a
funnel
, ram it down your
throat
, and
force-feed
you.  You
understand
?”  The last was said in a roar, only a centimeter
from her face.

Blaze froze.  Her heart gave a
startled, abused thump.  She managed to swallow.

“Good,” Jack the Asshole growled,
once more returning the vessel to her lips.  “Drink it, or I swear to Zeus,
it’s the funnel.”

Fuming, deciding that yes, ‘Jack’
could be simplified to ‘Dick,’ she drank.

As soon as the water touched her
stomach, Blaze felt better.  The searing agony in her veins seemed to cool, the
throbbing in her heart numbing as if doused in ice.

Then Dick was flipping her over,
ramming her face into the dirt.  As she tried to cry out her muffled protests
into the soft soil, she felt him start ripping her shirt off.  Blaze screamed
and tried to struggle, but he simply held her down with a big paw.  She felt
cold water dribble onto her shoulder and down her back.  Wherever it touched
open flesh, the water felt like ice against her wounds, and Blaze gasped at the
sudden hot-cold, pulling sensation.  Her nose, pressed sideways into the dirt,
was getting a strange tingly feeling as he continued to dribble water over her
shoulders and spine.

Eventually, Dick flipped her back
over, then frowned, his eyes dropping to her nose.  “Oh, shit,” he growled.  He
sighed and winced at her.  He seemed to consider. 

Blaze frowned.  Why was her nose
twisted to the side?

Dick reached out, grabbed her
nose, and snapped it back straight.