Page 28 of When the Snowman Whispered
old!” I woke up in my bed, naked and covered in snow. I had to brush ice away from my thighs and legs. Cold liquid melted into my hands and numbed my fingers.
Still, I swept all the ice away.
What the hell happened to my shirt? I know I had something on. How did snow get in here?
I looked up. My window was wide open. A freezing wind blew in. Snow batted against the curtains and dropped onto the bedroom floor.
There were at least three inches of snow on the floor in front of the window.
Disoriented and naked, I grabbed the blanket that was on the floor, wrapped it around me, and headed for the window. It was so cold. Goosebumps decorated my flesh. I had to think, but couldn’t until I got warmer.
I didn’t keep that window open. Maybe it blew open.
Something made me look back at the door. Maybe it was a sound. Perhaps it had something to do with all the chairs and lamps stacked up in front of it.
What the fuck?
And then my memory of last night hit me.
Oh no.
I was scared. Terrified. My sculptures had come alive and although they didn’t try to kill me, I wasn’t a fan of supernatural ice creatures. I was a regular sort of girl. I went to bed at nine in the evening on the dot. I didn’t have wine unless on holidays or Fridays. I didn’t have adventures or solve mysteries, I saved those experiences for my favorite books and movies.
But, last night had rocked my world.
I went back to dealing with my window and paused.
Wait a minute. If I barricaded the door, then I definitely locked the window.
My body froze.
My heart boomed.
Somehow, they got in.
And then the dream came back to me. The snowman was in my dream and had even told me that I was asleep.
Did he come into my bedroom and somehow get into my dream? Is that why snow was all over me when I woke up?
I thought back to my dream that wasn’t scary at all. In fact, it was probably one of the most sexy and magical ones I’d ever had. No longer frozen in shock, my body warmed with lust.
My dream played out in my head.
We’d made music with our bodies all night—in the clouds and on the tops of trees, down on the ground and between snowy hills where Santa stopped his orgy with the mermaids to watch Remy pound me from behind. I even rode Remy on the roof, bouncing up and down, my breasts jiggled, and his hands clasped tight on my hips.
When we finally finished, we lowered to the ground and laid on a pile of pillows and blankets. Snow continued to fall around us, but it didn’t freeze me. Next to him, I remained warm and safe.
And then I woke up, and snow covered me?
More snow and cold wind blew into my bedroom. I hurried over there and then paused at the center of the opening. Remy stood right in front of my window with crimson red roses stuck in his closed fists.
Full bloomed roses in winter? Wait. Why am I questioning the roses when I should be wondering about the freaking snowman?
And then the wind whispered, “Faith.”
I just stood there. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. What did one do when a snowman came alive, snuck into their bedroom, fucked them in a dream, and then stood before their open window like Romeo did to Juliet?
What did one do when the wind whispered names?
