When two strangers are trapped in a blizzard, heat
rises.
Haunted by what he lost in Afghanistan, Captain
Jack Turner is at a crossroads. While the last place he wants to go is the
Arctic, at least the routine mission gets him out from behind his new desk. But
he starts off on the wrong foot with the Canadian Ranger guiding him across the
forbidding and dangerous land, and Jack would rather be anywhere than sharing a
tent with Sergeant Kin Carsen.
The Arctic is in Kin’s blood, and he can’t seem to
leave the tundra behind. He wishes he could live openly as a gay man, but the
North isn’t as accepting as the rest of Canada. Although he’s lonely, he loves
his responsibility as a Ranger, patrolling the vast land he knows so well. But
he’s on unfamiliar ground with Jack, and when they’re stranded alone by a blizzard,
unexpected desire begins to burn. Soon they’re in a struggle to survive, and
all these strangers have is each other.
Note: This gay romance features emotional
repression, hurt/comfort, adventure on the tundra, and love where you least
expect it.
Character Interview
Can an army captain who can’t
forget Afghanistan make new memories with a ranger in the Arctic? In this
character interview, meet Jack Turner, a Canadian army
captain at a crossroads.
Please tell us about you: job, hobbies,
special talents, and anything else you would want to share.
I’m a
captain in the Canadian Armed Forces. I almost came home from Afghanistan in a
body bag, and now I’ve got a desk job in Ottawa, which is the capital city of
Canada. Hobbies? Um, let’s see. Does watching TV or playing stupid games on my
iPad count? Oh, I have a dog. His name’s Neville and he’s a pug. I tell people
I named him after Neville Chamberlain, but secretly it was Neville Longbottom.
I don’t
have any special talents I can think of. I guess it was a special talent that I
didn’t get blown up in the Middle East when I probably should have. Wait, can
you change that answer? I don’t want my parents to see it. They’ll just get
upset and bug me about going to therapy.
Where did you grow up?
I grew
up in Kanata, a suburb of Ottawa. It was mostly cornfields even when I was in
my twenties, but now they’re paving over it all for subdivisions and box
stores.
Tell us about the first time you met Kin.
Was it love at first sight?
No. I
thought he was good looking, but he’s a subordinate, and it was inappropriate
to even consider it. Besides, I didn’t make a great first impression on him. He
thought I was a bit of a jackass. Wait—he’s calling from the other room. Kin wants
to clarify that he thought I was a
complete jackass. Not just a bit.
What drew you to each other?
Well,
there’s something about being trapped in a tent in the high Arctic that can
bring two people together. Sometimes you need to share body heat! But really it
was Kin’s quiet confidence. His steadiness. We’d both suffered the loss of
people we cared about, and I could talk to him in a way I hadn’t been able to
talk to anyone since I came back from the war.
What is your favorite part of him?
This is
a PG-13 interview, right? Kidding, kidding. *whispers* It’s his soul. I’m not
one of those hippy-dippy spiritual people who usually believes in that crap,
but Kin has a beautiful soul. I can look into his eyes and see it shining out.
Do you love a challenge? If so, how do you
handle it?
*calls
loudly* Kin, would you say I love a challenge? *pauses* He’s laughing his ass
off now. That’s a yes. Let me tell you, the high Arctic is nothing if not a
challenging place. I guess I handle a test the only way you can: by diving in
headfirst.
Favorite childhood memory?
Probably
going canoeing with my folks and my sister in Algonquin Park. We went for two
weeks, camping and canoeing deep into the forest. We’d have to portage between
lakes. Portaging means you carry the boat over your head. I think it might be a
Canadian word. Our ancestors did a lot of canoeing.
Favorite vacation spot?
Considering
it’s -50 F outside right now (and that is not a typo—you read that correctly),
I’m going to say anywhere around the equator.
Favorite eye color?
Pale
gray.
Care to share future plans?
The
Canadian Armed Forces has plans in the Arctic. That’s all I can say for now.
Excerpt
Jesus
Christ it was cold.
With
fingers stiff in his gloves, Jack flicked on his little flashlight under his
sleeping bag. It was only zero-four-hundred, but it had been dark for so many
hours it felt as though the night would never end. It must have clouded over,
since there was no light from the moon making its way through the tent walls.
He shuddered to think of what it was like in the winter when the sun barely
rose at all.
Carefully,
he pointed the flashlight around the tent, aiming it high to avoid waking Kin,
who slept peacefully a few feet away. The red of Kin’s toque peeked out from
his sleeping bag, and Jack could see his closed eyes and his nose. He was
breathing deeply and evenly.
The odds of
turning on the stove without waking him were nil, so Jack stayed put, shivering
in his sleeping bag. Kin didn’t seem bothered by the cold at all, but Jack’s
teeth chattered. He wanted to wrap himself in one of the pelts beneath them,
but the idea of moving out of his bag was not appealing.
He should
have turned off the flashlight since he was wasting the battery, but he found
himself watching Kin sleep. He’d shared tents with dozens of men over the
years, but none had intrigued him like Kin Carsen did. Not even Grant. He winced at the familiar sting of guilt twisting
in his gut.
His scars
flared to life, and he scrabbled at the back of his neck and shoulder, dropping
the flashlight with a thud, the beam of light spinning around the tent. It was
as if his flesh was burning again, and it prickled unbearably. He yanked off
his gloves to scratch properly, squirming in the tight sleeping bag.
“Jack?” Kin
murmured.
“I’m fine,”
he gritted out. “Go back to sleep.”
Kin’s tone
was sharp, all drowsiness vanished. “What is it?”
The light
shone in his face, and Jack squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed into his bag.
“I said it’s nothing. Leave me the hell alone.” He dug his blunt nails into his
skin even though he knew it would pass faster if he left the scars untouched.
The doctors said the itching was all in his head, but it was hard to believe
when he trembled with hot prickles. At least he didn’t feel as cold.
“I’m only
trying to help.”
“Then don’t. I don’t need your help.”
“Well,
excuse the fuck out of me. Sir.”
The
flashlight snapped off, and when Jack opened his eyes the tent was black again.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He breathed
heavily through his nose, forcing himself to stop scratching. “I’m sorry. It’s
not you, okay? It’s a hundred percent me. I’m a bag of shit lately.”
There was
silence for a long moment. Then, “Is that the official diagnosis?”
Jack barked
out a laugh, some of the tension leeching from his body. He felt around for his
gloves but couldn’t find them, so he curled his hands against his chest in the
sleeping bag. “It should be. Sorry for being a drama queen. You’re more patient
than I would be stuck with an FNG.”
“You’ll
have to enlighten me.”
“Fucking
new guy.”
Kin laughed
softly, and Jack wished he could see the little dimples that creased his
cheeks. He tried to think of something else he could say to make him laugh. “I
wouldn’t blame you if your GAFF was pretty low right now.”
“Okay, I’ll
bite.”
“Give a
fuck factor.”
Kin laughed
again, and despite the cold Jack felt a bloom of warmth in his chest.
“Do you
have an army to English dictionary? My students would love these.”
“No, but
someone should write one.”
“Maybe that
should be your next assignment.”
“Maybe.”
Jack
breathed easily again. There was something nice about talking in the dark in
their sleeping bags. Reminded him of when he was a kid sleeping over at Jimmy
Leclerc’s house, talking until all hours of the night on the old shag carpet in
the basement. And just like he had with Jimmy, Jack inched closer to Kin,
shifting himself as quietly as possible.
He didn’t
know why he had that urge, since he was a grown man now and he didn’t have the
excuse of being afraid of the dark, or the rumbles and clangs from the
Leclerc’s furnace. Outside the tent there was only the steady whisper of wind.
But he still felt drawn to Kin, and the low sound of his exhalations.
“What’s it
like during the midnight sun? When there’s daylight twenty four hours?”
“It’s…lively.
The restaurant at the hotel is open day and night since there’s always someone
awake. I try to keep normal hours, but it’s hard. There’s a lot more noise, and
people out and about. We pretty much hibernate in the winter and make up for it
in the summer.”
“Must be
strange. I guess you get used to it.”
“Yeah. It’s
just the way it is. Everyone has blackout curtains. But there’s always a party
going on somewhere. Once—”
Jack waited
a few heartbeats. “Once what?”
“My brother
snuck off and went fishing with his buddies in the middle of the night. They
‘borrowed’ a boat, and of course they got caught since there they were in the
middle of the bay, clear as day. Even in the winter, there’s always someone
watching. Hard to keep secrets in Arctic Bay.”
“Have you
tried?”
Kin was silent for a moment. “Everyone has
something to hide.”
It was all
Jack could do not to ask. But he had his own secrets, and it was best to keep
it all locked away, no matter how safe it felt cocooned in the dark with Kin.
Anything Jack said tonight could haunt him in the dawn.
“That’s why
I like coming out here. There’s only the land, and it keeps all its secrets.”
“How about
the polar bears?”
Kin
chuckled. “They’re the worst gossips. Never tell a polar bear something you
don’t want the whole world to know.”
“I’ll keep
that in mind next time I’m shooting the breeze with one.” Jack flexed his
fingers, rubbing his bare hands together. “Christ it’s cold. I dropped my
gloves.”
“Here.”
As material
rustled, Jack expected the flashlight to come on. But his heart skipped a beat
as Kin spoke.
“Give me
your hands.” Kin’s voice was closer.
Jack’s
mouth went dry, and he heard his heartbeat thumping in his ears the way he
could when he wore earplugs on planes. He shimmied his arms out of the sleeping
bag and fumbled for Kin. When their fingers brushed together, he had to bite
back a gasp at the flare of desire in his belly.
Smoothly,
Kin took Jack’s hands between his and rubbed. He’d taken off his gloves, and he
massaged Jack’s fingers. God, it felt good. Kin’s hands were slightly
callused—more so than Jack would expect from a teacher. Granted he was also a
Ranger, but a Saturday soldier didn’t usually get his hands that dirty.
“Why didn’t
you say anything? Frostbite can happen really easily out here. You have to be
careful. Your fingers are way too cold.”
Jack opened
his mouth to give some kind of excuse, but any words were lost in a strangled
gurgle when his index finger was enveloped by wet heat. Kin sucked, and his
tongue swirled around, rough and slick at the same time. Jack was glad he
wasn’t standing, since so much blood rushed to his cock that he likely would
have gotten lightheaded.
Copyright
© Keira Andrews
About Keira Andrews
After
writing for years yet never really finding the right inspiration, Keira
discovered her voice in gay romance, which has become a passion. She writes
contemporary, historical, paranormal, and fantasy fiction, and—although she
loves delicious angst along the way—Keira firmly believes in happy endings. For
as Oscar Wilde once said, “The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That
is what fiction means.”
Where you can find Keira:
Amazon Author Page: amazon.com/author/keiraandrews
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