Romance on the Edge 01 - Hooked

was too much effort to get the bottle back onto the nightstand, so he cradled it in the crook of his arm. He was feeling no pain.
    Until Eva—the evil fairy from hell—pulled on his boot.
    “Ahhh!” He screamed like a baby. He’d tried to keep it in. Even bit his tongue, but with the booze, the holler had escaped.
    “Damn, I hope you didn’t break this,” Eva scolded him like it was his fault he was hurt. “No way we can get you to Fairbanks with that storm out there.” She surveyed the situation. “We need to get that boot off. If he broke it we’d better leave it on until we can get him to a hospital. But then what kind of infection has already taken up residence from the trap?”
    Aidan quirked a brow. “Are you expecting an answer from me?”
    “She likes to talk out her problems,” Lynx said, scowling. “Leave her alone.”
    Aidan took another swig of the whiskey, really getting into the numbing effects.
    “How’s he doing?” Fox asked, rushing into the room, his eyes wide as he viewed Aidan’s leg. “Ooh, that doesn’t look good.”
    Aidan hadn’t looked. In fact, he’d looked at everyone and everything in the room, avoiding the sight of his mangled leg.
    “Fox, you shouldn’t be in here,” Lynx said, walking over to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you have dogs to feed?”
    “That’s what I was doing. They’re all bedded down for the night.” He looked at Aidan, worry shining in his eyes. “Is he going to be all right?”
    “He’s going to be just fine.” Fiona walked around the bed and reached for Fox. “Come with me. I need your help getting him something to eat.” Fiona steered him out of the room, giving Aidan a backward glance with a wink.
    “Let’s get the boot off,” Eva announced, tightening her lips. “I think that’s the best course of action.” She went right to work. Before Aidan could down any more of the bottle, she had his boot off in one quick excruciating yank.
    “Shit. Fuck. Son of a bitch!” He gasped—had trouble getting his breath back—and started to shake.
    “Sorry about that,” the demon nurse from hell said. “Guess I could have warned you, but I prefer the rip-off-the-bandage method. Why prolong the pain? Now let’s take a look.”
    The edge of his vision started to blur. God, he hoped he passed out.
    Then she walked in.
    Raven .
    The woman who had haunted him all his life. From his dreams to his fantasies. The woman who had broken his heart.
    “So it’s true,” she said, glaring at him from the doorway, her hands planted on her hips. Her voice was deeper, huskier. It vibrated through him like a stone thrown into a pool of water. She slowly stalked toward the bed. “I can’t believe you had the nerve to come back here.”
    He gazed up into her dark, bewitching eyes. How he had loved to gaze into her eyes for hours as he stroked her soft, honeyed skin. “Why aren’t you in the Midwest?” he asked. And he thought dying was the worst thing that could happen to him tonight.
    “Midwest?” She frowned and glanced at Eva and Lynx. “Did he hit his head too?”
    “Nope,” Lynx answered. “But he’s had a lot to drink.” He indicated the half empty bottle, which helped Aidan remember the whiskey snuggled in the crook of his arm.
    He took another swig. Man, that went down nice.
    “Where’s Fox?” Raven asked.
    “In the kitchen with Mom,” Lynx said. “He found Aidan, saved his sorry ass. He also knew how to navigate Earl’s booby-traps. It would be interesting to know how he knew that.”
    “Yes, it would. In the meantime, what are we going to do with him ?” She pointed at Aidan as though he was something rotten that needed to be disposed of.
    He wasn’t worried. Hell, he was feeling fine. Aidan took another drink and some of the liquid dribbled down his chin. If they were going to kill him, they would have left him to die in the trap. With the temperature dropping to well below zero, he wouldn’t have made it through the night.
    Eva wiped the blood, rust, and dirt from his leg, while Aidan lost himself in gazing at Raven.
    She’d changed since he’d last seen her. At eighteen she’d been a skinny thing. All limbs and sharp angles. She’d gained weight and it had settled in all the right places. She was curvy. The kind of curvy a man could spend hours navigating, losing himself. He remembered the night they’d given each other their virginity. How they’d fumbled, laughed, and spoke of