I took his arms, and to my shock, he lifted me bodily onto Spets. It wasn’t elegant—I slumped over awkwardly, wedging my knee against the pommel and scrabbling for purchase. My fingers weren’t functioning digits anymore. But Spencer got a better handle on me, and Spets shifted as we upset the balance momentarily. Then I was facing Spencer with my ass between his legs, and he tucked my feet up behind him so I could hold onto him with my legs, and he could press my face into his chest. “I’m one hundred percent sure this is the wrong way this goes, but it feels more secure. You look like you’re about to lose consciousness.”
I nodded against his chest. “S’wrong. I’m fading, though.”
“Hang, on baby.” Spencer turned Spets, and I had a moment to think how absurd it was that he was handling my horse so well for having never ridden one. And then the darkness that I had fought tooth and nail for the last—I wasn’t sure how long, crawled through my head and swept over my body in one last tingling wave.
I woke to the feeling of ten thousand needles driving into every inch of my skin. Gasping, I opened my eyes. I had to move. I had to walk. I couldn’t fall asleep and let the biting cold seep the life from me. But as my awareness returned, I realized that I was in my own bed. And Spencer was with me. But he wasn’t looking at me directly; he was moving. Busy. His hands flew rapidly, doing something that jostled my body and caused my skin to burn.
His dark eyes flitted to mine momentarily, and the tension around the edges of his eyes knocked the breath from me. I was alive. I was in my bed. My entire body was on fire and needle pricks of pain were driving me insane, but I was breathing, somehow.
“Don’t sit up,” Spencer cautioned. His hands were still moving, and I felt something warm—burning—under my armpits. He was warming my core body temperature, which I guessed on a human was under my arms.
“How…?”
“I know; you were supposed to save me.” He allowed himself a quirk of his lips, but then he was whipping an IV line straight, and his focus returned to the emergency care he was giving me. “I appreciate the effort.”
“You ruin everything,” I rasped. A sharp pinch in my hand caused me to suck in a breath, and then warm fluid was flowing through my veins, a burning string of lava that slithered through my limbs. The pinpricks and burning and aching grew worse, and then I was shivering. “Wh-why are you making it worse?”
“Stop making jokes,” he chastised, giving me a hard look as he wrapped my hand in adhesive gauze and then secured a blood pressure cuff around my other arm. “You know very well how hypothermia victims react to rewarming.”
“Just-just checking,” I shivered.
Spencer picked up a phone as the blood pressure cuff tightened. “Hello? Yes, still here. She’s conscious and stabilizing.How far out are they?” He waited, listening. The light was dim, but even in the bad lighting, I could tell Spencer was worse for the wear. There was blood on his bicep—a lot of blood—his lips were pale, and he was sweating a little too much for it to be anxiety. “We’ll need two ambulances. No, for me. I sustained a wound about three hours ago and only just realized it’s been bleeding freely. I was also exposed to the elements for close to four hours. No, I’m stable right now.”
I blinked fast, panicking a little. “What w-wound? What elements?”
“We’re in the house. Bedroom to the back right. Thanks. Yes, I’ll stay on the line but I’m putting the phone down.” He checked my blood pressure result. “Thanks.”
Then he put the phone down, and I reached for him, grabbing his torn, damp button-down. “Spencer. S-stop. You need to get-get in dry clothing.” His throat bobbed, and his eyes ran over me. It was only then I realizedhewas panicking. Logical, yes, but definitely panicking. I tugged harder. “Now, Spencer,” I gritted through my chattering teeth. “G-get out of th-these now.”
He nodded grimly. “I had to stabilize you first.”
“I am,” I insisted.
“Do not move,” he instructed again, his features severe. “It could trigger an arrhythmia.”
“I c-can’t anyway,” I scowled. “Go.”
Spencer unbuttoned his shirt carefully. His fingers, which had been so calm and sure when caring for me, fumbled with the buttons. But then he was down to his boxers, and he wrapped himself in two blankets. “I’ll be back,” he promised.
I nodded, closing my eyes and wincing against the growing pain that pulsed through my limbs as blood flow resumed. It seemed like no time at all before Spencer was back. He had on what looked like two hoodies, the hoods pulled up over hishead, and then he was back to working on me, starting the blood pressure cuff again and taking my temperature.
I grabbed his wrist, lifting the IV line with the motion. “Paramedics are coming. It’s okay.”
“I know,” he bit out. “I’m trying to keep busy.” His hands were shaking.
“Sit down,” I snapped. “P-please, Spence.”
He seemed to melt. With a heavy thud, Spencer fell to a sitting position on the floor next to my bed, and his hand shifted so it was holding mine. With his head resting against the wall, he rolled a look over to me, and then we were at eye level, both of us exhausted, both bloodless and quietly terrified. I had never seen Spencer so wan, and another pang of worry rocked through me, reminding me why I had gone into the snowstorm in the first place.
“What happened?” I asked.
He rolled his head as he shook it. “Let’s not. Need you well first.”
“But you’re hurt,” I insisted.
“Unfortunate mishap. Nothing more.” He squeezed my fingers reassuringly. “I’m sorry. Your history with storms… I’m so sorry, Ara.”
My whole body was racked with tremors now as my core temperature slowly climbed. I knew Spencer was doing it slowly to keep me from going into shock, but Goddamn was it uncomfortable. “I thought I was dreaming you,” I said through clacking teeth.
