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  The Princess and the Prepper

  Copyright © 2012 by Barbara Elsborg

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-450-8

  Cover art by Tibbs Design

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  Also by Barbara Elsborg

  Chosen

  On the Right Track

  Just What She Wants

  The Princess and the Prepper

  A Prepper Romance

  By

  Barbara Elsborg

  Chapter One

  Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.

  How many more would she make before she remembered to think before she acted, to engage brain before she spoke? Since she’d been the same for all twenty-four years of her life, Lili suspected nothing would change for the next twenty-four, assuming she lived that long, and that was looking increasingly unlikely.

  She stared, unblinking, as thick flakes of snow rushed toward the windshield and obliterated the view for a long, breath-stealing moment before wipers swept it clear. The guy at her side was driving too fast along an icy road lined with unforgiving pine trees, yet she worried he was the greater danger.

  “Slower,” she murmured, as much to herself as to him.

  He laughed. “I’ll go as slow as you like, sweetheart.”

  Lili tightened her hold on the edge of the seat and wondered what the hell she could do to put this right. She’d honed the act of extricating herself from her mistakes to a fine art, which was basically apologizing even when it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t see any way out of this. Barreling along in a blizzard in the wilds of Wyoming with no town in sight and sitting next to a sex maniac who persisted in rubbing his bulging crotch and making lewd suggestions every few minutes had frozen her mind.

  “Don’t go getting any ideas about putting your mouth around my dick until I’ve stopped.”

  Oh God. How could she have done something so stupid as to get in this big truck? Out of all the drivers she could have approached, why had she asked this one? Because he smiled at me, and I’m an idiot. It could be the last mistake she’d ever make. She gulped.

  She’d started out as a mistake when her mother forgot to take her contraceptive pill. Lili had lost count of the number of times she’d heard her parents say she was an unexpected surprise. The words “but a delightful one” always came a little too slowly for her to believe them sincere, particularly when, even as a child, she recognized they didn’t want her around.

  Brought up by a succession of foreign nannies—her parents intended her to be multilingual—but ever-awkward Lili didn’t speak at all until she was five. Her first words were, “I don’t like bananas.” Presumably, she’d eventually found the courage to speak out but even then, she’d registered her parents’ disappointment she’d not uttered some profound, world-shattering sentence. Their child would not be the genius they hoped for.

  Following that first mistake of conception—not really her fault, but what the hell—came that of being born by Cesarean and almost killing her mother in the process. Lili continued on the same troublesome path by not being the perfect, compliant daughter. No wonder they couldn’t wait to get her permanently off their hands. No wonder she couldn’t wait to escape.

  So it was entirely her fault she currently sat next to a heavyset trucker hauling refrigerated goods who belched, picked his nose, and drove like a lunatic, but far worse, had waited until they were in the middle of a snowy nowhere before he made his price for giving her a ride perfectly clear. She blocked her ears to his increasingly crude comments and imagined herself shrinking until she disappeared. But what had worked when she was a child no longer sufficed.

  She swallowed hard and looked at the swirling snow. Back in Jackson Hole, she’d left her purse, suitcase, warm coat, and a furious man. Dieter was good-looking, charming when he wanted to be, vile when he didn’t. The tiny hope she’d harbored of him changing into Mr. Perfect had been dashed to the ground and crushed to dust. He thought she was the one who needed to change, but she was tired of being what other people wanted her to be, tired of saying sorry when she didn’t mean it.

  Besides, she sensed an apology wouldn’t have worked anyway. He’d been red-faced with fury, and she knew where that led. She fingered the place on her arm where he’d left bruises. Lili didn’t like it when people were angry, particularly when they were angry with her. She’d been brought up to please with no thought of pleasing herself. But finally, albeit several years too late, she’d decided enough was enough.

  She wished she’d rebelled earlier that day and not signed the form Dieter had put in front of her that morning. But avoiding confrontation, backing away from potentially ugly scenes, and doing as she was told were so much part of her psyche that voicing the tiniest objection took as much courage as standing up to speak in front of a roomful of strangers. That time, she’d wet her knickers. She’d been seven years old, and her mother had ignored her for a whole week afterward.

  “Storm’s getting worse,” the man beside her said. “Might have to pull over for a while and warm my dick in your mouth.” He glanced at her and fluttered his tongue.

  Drop bloody dead.

  She’d not seen another vehicle on the road for ages. On a busy highway, she’d have risked demanding the driver stop and let her out so she could flag someone down. She couldn’t be unlucky enough to end up with another guy like this one, surely? But she wasn’t dressed for snow. She glanced at her designer clothes: purple jacket and skirt she hated, stockings she loathed, and heeled ankle boots that might have met with her approval if she’d been able to choose them herself, but she hadn’t, so
she didn’t like them. Dieter told her she had chosen them, but she knew she hadn’t. When he insisted she’d said yes, it made her unsure of everything. It was as though he reveled in confusing her.

  “Here’ll do,” the driver said and the rig slowed.

  Too late she realized she should have been planning for this moment. Running through snow in heels would be tricky, but if he didn’t listen to no, what option did she have? The truck shuddered to a halt at the side of the road, the air brakes hissing, but he left the engine and headlights on. The click of his seat belt made her squeak with alarm.

  “I can’t drive any longer with this hard-on. Time you did something about it.”

  “No,” she blurted out. “It isn’t. I can’t. Terribly sorry. I apologize if I misled you.”

  His fingers settled in her hair, and she cringed. “I like the way you talk with that uppity accent. How about you use that pretty mouth on me?”

  He twisted her hair and with his other hand flicked open the button of his pants and pulled down the zipper.

  She gasped. “I’d really prefer not to.”

  “And I’d really prefer you did.” He mocked her accent. “Don’t be a tease.” His fingers tightened in her hair and tugged.

  “Let me go.” She unclipped her seat belt and fumbled blindly in the side pocket for a weapon. Screwed-up wrappers and an empty plastic bottle. Great. Where was a machete when she needed one?

  His lunge was so unexpected, she didn’t react for a moment. By the time she registered he really wasn’t going to take no for an answer, he’d pinned her face against the dashboard and was ripping off her jacket. A CD case crunched under her foot, and she tried to reach it, thinking it might be sharp enough to hurt him. She caught sight of his erection poking out of his boxers and whimpered. He yanked at her blouse and slapped away her fists as she fought back. How many hands did he have? She kept lashing out, but it hurt when she hit him and it hurt when he hit her, and she began to falter.

  “Stop fighting, you stupid bitch.”

  But fighting was all she had left, and she gritted her teeth and redoubled her efforts to get free. As they struggled, he ripped her stockings and tore the buttons off her blouse. She grabbed at his face, scratched his cheeks, and tried to push her fingers into his eyes. A thump in the temple sent her head crashing into the passenger window. Lights flashed behind her eyes and she knew if she didn’t get away now, he’d not only rape her, he’d kill her.

  The zipper on her skirt gave way, and she wrenched at the door handle. As it opened, she slithered out of her skirt and shirt into the night, screaming at the top of her lungs. The impact with the ground stunned her into silence, as did the mouthful of snow.

  When she twisted around, she saw him glaring. Then the glare changed to a grin. The door slammed, the truck pulled back onto the highway, and relief that he’d gone was replaced by shock. She spat out melting snow, wiped her mouth, and pushed herself to stand shivering in black lacy underwear, ripped stockings dangling over her boots. His taillights receded into the distance, the only sound the fading growl of his engine. Then the lights were gone and so was the noise and all she could hear and feel were the snow and the wind.

  I’m going to die.

  It was a surprise to find herself so calm. But it was the truth. She was going to die. No way would she last more than a few minutes in these temperatures. Her body was already chilling, her teeth chattering, the cold seeping into her designer boots. Blinking snow from her lashes, she hugged herself, tucking her fingers under her arms, the wind biting into her with sharp teeth. The road showed no tracks from a vehicle, other than the one she’d fallen from. She swiveled in a circle, checking for any signs of life. All she saw was a long, empty road lined with pine trees.

  Lili gritted her teeth and set off after the truck. Maybe it had stopped around the corner and he was teaching her a lesson. Dieter was always teaching her lessons. Every breath she took was like inhaling shards of ice. At least her feet were dry but that wouldn’t last. These boots weren’t made for walking. Wasn’t that a song? Weren’t made or were made? Hardly before she’d completed the thought, a heel snapped. She stumbled and then limped on. Warm, fur-lined boots lay in her suitcase. She’d stuffed her gloves in her coat pocket. Why hadn’t she thought to grab her bag from the car before she begged a lift?

  She knew why. She’d have been forced to wait until Dieter unlocked it, and then he’d have stopped her with words or actions. Leaving everything had been the only way she could escape.

  What had he thought when she’d not come out of the restaurant bathroom? How long had he waited before he’d gone looking for her? Which way had he driven? Might he pull up behind her? What should she do if he did?

  I’d get in his car. What choice do I have?

  Her shaking grew more violent, her body smothered in goose bumps, even, she suspected, her eyes. She’d finally done it, run away, and she’d rather die than go back. Except now that dying was more than a possibility, the word mistake echoed ever more loudly in her head.

  As she grew colder and her steps slowed, her mind wandered to what she wished her life had been. Lili wanted to fill her head with happiness because then dying might not be so hard, but there were so few truly happy memories that depression settled more heavily on her shoulders. She wasn’t a naturally unhappy person. She’d learned early on in life to make the best of any situation, but there was no upside to being half-naked in a snowstorm. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Cold and sadness seeped through her skin and trickled along her veins.

  Somehow she kept moving, hobbling down the road. The longer she could keep going, the more chance she had of surviving. For all she knew there was a house around the next bend. If not that bend, then the next. She wasn’t going to give in until…a wolf stood a few yards in front of her.

  Lili stumbled to a halt. Oh damn. Falling asleep in a snowdrift didn’t sound so bad but being eaten by a wolf? She didn’t fancy that at all. The wolf made a sort of bark-howl and bounded toward her. She tried to form the words, “Nice doggy” but her lips were frozen. She stayed right where she was, closed her eyes, and braced for an attack. When it didn’t happen, she opened her eyes to see the wolf had stopped a couple of feet away. It made the weird noise again. Probably calling for reinforcements. Don’t bother. I’m not much of a meal. She moved around it and carried on down the road. A few steps later she’d convinced herself it hadn’t been there.

  Grant Houston heard Shadow bark as he dropped down through the trees. As he stepped out onto the road, it took a moment to register what he saw wasn’t a hallucination. A half-naked woman limped toward him with Shadow padding behind. Grant had been carrying wood into the cabin when the wolf had tugged at his sleeve. He’d listened, heard a large vehicle, noted it had stopped with the engine running, and decided to come and check. He’d almost turned back when he heard it pull away. He clenched his jaw. Not hard to guess what had happened. The driver had dumped her. Bastard.

  He stopped a few yards away, not wanting to alarm her, but she kept going, head down, until she collided with his chest. His arms came out instinctively to wrap around her and prevent her falling. She looked into his eyes and turned to Jell-O. He tightened his grip and groaned.

  The thought of dropping her, going back to his place, and pretending he’d never seen her flittered through his head. As if. He had his cell phone but even if he wrapped her in his coat, she might die by the time the emergency services made it out there, and if he took off his coat, so might he. He wished he had a choice, but he didn’t. Supporting her with one hand, he pulled the hat from his head and stuck it on hers, then unbuttoned and unzipped his coat and picked her up so her legs settled on his hips. She was light as a feather.

  “Put your arms around me.” His voice was gruff. He didn’t use it much. Resentment surged in his chest at the disruption to his life. By this act of human kindness, he’d have to allow people into his world.

  He was relieved when she slid her f
ingers onto his back under his coat. Even with his shirt and sweater between her and his skin, he quickly felt her coldness. After a brief struggle he managed to pull the zipper over her back so they were wedged tight together. This was not the time to have an erection, but his cock wasn’t listening. Did it ever? Her lower legs were exposed but at least most of her was covered. He linked his arms under her backside, clasping his gloved hands together to support her weight, and began to walk.

  The woman’s face was pale, and she shivered violently against him. The smell of her awakened memories he’d buried, the soft scent of coconut and vanilla reminding him of the last time he’d held a woman in his arms. The memory surged up his throat and choked him. His foot caught on a tree root, and he almost fell. Shadow growled.

  “Okay, okay, I’m paying attention,” he muttered.

  The woman he carried was tall and slender, too slender, though her breasts…. He increased his pace. The sooner he got her back to his cabin the better, even though the thought of her being there disturbed him. But stronger than that feeling was another, one he hardly recognized, a desire to protect her. Some fucking truck driver had dumped her and she’d have died if he hadn’t come along, if Shadow hadn’t alerted him. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, the gentle warmth of her ragged breathing hitting his throat, the wet chill of her body seeping through his clothes, and even as he desperately tried to keep his cock under control, it swelled further. There ought to be a prize for the time to have the most inappropriate erection. He shifted his hold under her butt so he could press his thumbs against his zipper. Waste of time.

  He climbed steadily through the trees, panting slightly, treading in the steps he’d made earlier. He was relieved when his cabin came into view. The woman no longer felt as light as a feather. Shadow had bounded ahead and already sat on the porch. The wolf wasn’t his pet, didn’t come when called, but arrived when he wanted an easy meal or a night by a warm stove, and strangely enough, sometimes when Grant just felt he could use company. He opened the door, walked in, and then beckoned the wolf with his head.