Northern Lights: Little Red Riding Hood
著者
C Hyden
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61.3K
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He spins me round so my back is against the arch, jasmine blossoms falling into my hair. He supports me with one arm, whilst with his other hand he tilts my head back, fingers tangled in my hair, to kiss down my neck, he stops at my collarbone and groans.
“I want you, I need you,” he says, “I have to mark you.”
Yes,” I whisper, “but not like this.”
Abandoned alone in the Lapland woods after an aurora viewing tour, Charlotte is rescued by the enigmatic owner of a local wolf sanctuary. Finding herself strangely drawn to him she discovers parts of her past are not what they seem and her whole sense of self is about to be shaken. Can she overcome her fear and allow herself to fall in love and what do the revelations about her biological father mean for her and the other donor-created siblings?
Chapter 1: The Girl Who Chased the Lights
CHARLOTTE
Staring at myself in the mirror in my cabin at the Lapland lodge, I have to laugh. I look just like the Michelin tire man. I am certain I put on at least fifteen layers and can barely touch my toes, but I am damned sure I’m not going to feel cold on my trip out tonight. I don’t want anything to ruin my chance of photographing the northern lights.
There is not an inch of skin showing. I have been warned it is going to drop to at least -20°C, and the tour has said we will be out for several hours.
Just then my phone buzzes: a message from Sarah telling me the tour group is gathering outside. I hurry out to meet them, grab my camera bag, extra heat pouches to keep my batteries warm, and my phone, and run across the lodge complex from my cabin to the group waiting by the “aurora wagons,” as they call them, towed by large snowmobiles.
At the front, Sarah is shamelessly flirting with the tour operator. She is the one who found this tour and booked it in town, telling me that the guy running it is super hot and she is hoping to get lucky.
I shake my head, slightly irritated; she is supposed to be here to support me. My ex dumped me suddenly a couple of weeks ago after meeting someone at his gym who, as he put it, “fits him better,” whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.
So here I am at twenty-four, single and pissed off. I have had a couple of boyfriends in my teenage years who just sort of fizzled out, but I have been with my ex since uni, and he was my first for a lot of things, so his betrayal hit me hard.
This was originally going to be a couple’s holiday for Christmas, and I considered canceling, but this was a bucket list trip for me and there was no way in hell I was going to waste the money I had already paid. Thankfully, the lodge was able to accommodate Sarah in another room when I invited her to take his place, even if it was across the other side of the resort complex.
I love Sarah to bits, but I booked a romantic double-bed cabin and we are far too old to share a bed like we did as kids, staying up till midnight giggling together, telling each other horror stories and sneaking “midnight snacks.” I smile fondly now, looking at Sarah, then across at the tour guide.
He is pretty cute (what I can see of him in the layers he wears too), and Sarah has been single a while, so I can’t begrudge her if she meets someone new. We all pile into the wagons, Sarah and I taking the last two seats at the rear, and then the convoy lurches forward into the snow-covered forest.
The scenery is stunning, the lights of the snowmobiles casting shadows across the snow-covered trees in the dark. Everyone seems to talk in hushed tones, trying not to spoil the magic.
We ride in silence for once, just taking in the calm of the night, watching the stars in the clear sky and our breath crystallizing in the cold as the occasional arctic hare, scared out of the bushes, runs across our path.
“Right,” our tour guide shouts loudly as the snowmobiles grind to a halt, “this is our northern lights viewing area. Out you get and come and warm yourselves by the campfire. There is hot chocolate and cookies, and if you get too cold, there is a small glass viewing cabin you can stand in to warm up. Don’t stray too far from this area, and bear in mind we’re heading off in about an hour.
“Now, the northern lights don’t appear every night, and although they have been fairly active this week, as much as I wish I could guarantee it—as I would be the most profitable tour operator in Lapland”—this garners a chuckle from the assembled group—“there is a chance we won’t see them, but hopefully you’ll still all enjoy the trip and give me five stars on Google.” Another chuckle breaks out.
After Sarah gets her hot chocolate, she heads over to the tour guide again and starts chatting while I set up my camera and tripod, waiting for the lights to appear. I grab a hot chocolate and cookie and wait by myself, but although the stars are beautiful and I take some shots of the trees glowing in the light of the campfire, the northern lights are yet to appear.
The hour ticks by slowly and still no sign of the lights. Sighing, I pack my stuff up as we head back to the snowmobiles.
Sarah comes bounding over to me all excited, saying she is going to sit up front with Lief, the guide, as they have definitely hit it off and she is pretty certain they are going to be hooking up tonight. I smile at her and wish her good luck before I head back to my seat at the rear, on my own.
As the snowmobiles set off back into the forest, I think I hear the howling of a wolf nearby, followed by more howls farther off. A little shiver runs down my back.
Living in Britain, where there are no dangerous animals unless you count cows (which apparently kill several people every year), I have forgotten that in places like this, it isn’t safe to wander in the woods by yourself.
We have been traveling for only a few minutes when there is suddenly a shout from a few people up front, and I look up to see the northern lights have appeared. It is breathtaking, watching the green and purple waves across the sky, but there is no way I am going to be able to take photographs on a moving wagon.
Thankfully, the snowmobiles towing us stop suddenly. The guide jumps out and runs down, saying anyone who wants to take some quick pictures is more than welcome to jump out and they will stop for twenty minutes, but we can’t stay too long as they have to get back into town.
I grab my camera bag and head off a little way into the trees where I can see a small clearing, allowing me to get a better angle at the sky without the lights of the snowmobiles causing issues with my long exposure shots.
Peeling off my thick outer gloves, I struggle a bit with my thin glove liners still on but manage to get the camera set up and connected to the tripod, and I start taking a few shots, careful to set the timer.
I turn off my headlamp and then stand back so no movement or excess light spoils the shots. As I am taking another exposure, I hear the noise of the snowmobiles starting back up, and I hurry to pack up my gear.
As I stuff it back into my bag, I hear the guide saying they are good to go, and the wagons start to move off. Horrified, I run toward them, waving my headlamp and shouting, but they can’t hear me over the noise of the engines and they quickly pick up speed, disappearing into the distance.
Cursing, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. What the hell, they aren’t supposed to leave for another five minutes. He definitely said twenty minutes, not fifteen.
They have left early, but why hasn’t Sarah told them I wasn’t back yet? I mentally slap myself. Of course she is now sitting at the front with the guide, completely unaware of what I am doing at the back.
I don’t imagine the old couple sitting in front of me even realized I was behind them in the first place, let alone that I had gotten off to take photos. Shit, shit, shit. I am a bloody idiot for not telling anyone I was heading to the clearing, but the guide hadn’t counted us in or out like he was supposed to either, probably distracted by all Sarah’s flirting. I am royally fucked.
