Chapter 3
- May 7
- 9 min read
Updated: 6 days ago
Snowed In with a Bigfoot, a Yeti, & a Werewolf
by Honey Cummings
Wilma pushed the door behind her and took a few steps into a very modern black-and-white minimalist bedroom. Black walls, an assortment of glass or black furniture, white comforter and a wall of pillows, a single white lamp, and under her feet a black-and-white rug. It was sleek and borderline vibing as a professional look by any bedroom standard. Tenzin had come in the cabin with authority, so his bedroom definitely said he demanded authority in the sheets as well. She smirked at the idea, then his words sent a chill over her, “...lock the door…”
Turning on her heel, she turned the lock on the knob. Too afraid to lug her suitcase onto pure white anything, she settled for filleting open her suitcase on the floor. Digging through, she grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into the master bathroom. Like the bedroom, it too adorned the black-and-white minimalist look, but in opposite contrast. White tiles covered the walls and counters, a black toilet and sink to match, and a glass door divided the standing shower. It was worthy of a mansion, not a log cabin in the middle of a mountain top where you had to drive up a tiny, winding gravel road to even get there.
“How the fuck did they even get up here to build this shit?” Wilma arched a brow as she turned the knob on the shower. “Holy shit balls, this is icy as fuck!”
She snatched her hand back, and the realization she was in a snowstorm on top of a mountain meant heat took time. Looking back, she pushed the bathroom door closed as well, the bedroom too office-savvy for her tastes, as a shudder rattled her. Again, she dared to test the stream and was relieved it had started to heat up so soon.
“Yeah. Tenzin probably pays good money to have hot water on demand from the looks of this bathroom,” she muttered. “But that breakfast… What was his name? Boone.”
The forest green and brown eyes struck her again. Her memories from last night were still hazy, though she was for sure he looked like Bigfoot.
“Was he wearing some big fur coat?” Looking at her fingers, she remembered how soft and warm it had been. “That happy little grunt sound. It’s kind of cute when he makes it. Does he know he makes that sound?”
Steam rolled upward, and her body was quick to remind her how sore she still felt from the crash. Stripping down to nothing, she took a moment to check herself in the mirror. A bruise on her hip looked angrier than how it felt, a few other marks on her arms and legs, a scratch and scrape here and there, and the rash on her forehead from the airbag made her scoff. Then she realized how badly she had crazy-lady hair and cupped her face as it shifted to red.
“And he called me a good girl looking like this?” Just the thought of Lucan’s voice and heat of his breath sent goosebumps across her skin as she dove into the shower. “No wonder the other two were staring at me like that.”
The water melted away the exhaustion, the doubts, and every other thought daring to boil to the surface moments before. Muscles relaxed. The shower’s high pressure beat into her, the hiss of it silencing the world and her mind in equal measure. After what seemed like an eternity, she muttered a curse under her breath. In her distraction, she hadn’t even thought about grabbing her toiletries bag.
“Shit.” Tip-toeing out, she looked for a towel. “Where the fuck are the towels?”
Sighing, she threw caution to the wind and dripped her wet ass all the way to her suitcase and grabbed her toiletries bag. As she turned to rush back, a loud bang spooked her. Heart racing, she stared wide-eyed at the shutters slamming against the cabin as the snowstorm started to grow more violent outside. Taking a step forward, her foot slipped, but she caught herself on the door frame.
“Fuck my life. I just want to take a fucking shower.” Growling in her frustration, she pulled out her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. “Ok, now where was I…”
The wind howled in reply as if reminding her she was officially snowed in with three very handsome strangers. Dipping under the water, she picked up where she left off by lathering her hair. Looking at the bottles, her mind wondered if it was the smell of the sandalwood and lemongrass from her shampoo and conditioner they were noticing. Sniffing it, she thought about it. It didn’t seem pungent. It smelled nice, fresh, and earthy. Again, she sniffed it.
“But it’s not as strong and obnoxious as the artificial crap.” Bitter about their rude comments about how she smelled, she scrubbed harder.
Skin on fire as she rubbed in her patchouli-and-bergamot body wash. There wouldn’t be an inch of pre-existing skin, let alone smell, for the three men to remark on her scent ever again if she could help it. Satisfied and thoroughly rinsed, she stepped out, dug under the cabinet, and, thankfully, found a stack of very big, lush black towels. Digging through her bathroom bag, she drenched herself in her cherry almond body spray.
I will smell delicious, dammit!
She would be the one choosing how she smelled! With a sparkle in her eye, she pulled out her secret weapon: the limited edition Sugar Cookie Sprinkle edition of Dove’s deodorant. Lathering it on thick, she dared those motherfuckers downstairs to complain about her smell now. Looking at the pile of clothes on the vanity, she slumped her shoulders.
“Shit, forgot my bra–”
The power went out.
Outside the shutters banged ever steadier as the wind howled more mournful than before. Flailing her arms out, she opened the bathroom door again. Her feet slipping in the puddles she had left before she cursed to herself. The snowstorm had gone beyond being a whiteout to pure darkness as the snow clung to the window’s trim. She watched in pure awe of the window’s ability to do nothing more than rattle from time to time when a gust slammed into it on occasion. Turning to where her suitcase laid in the dark on the floor, she took another step forward and stopped.
Her gut sank.
A chill snaking up her spine.
The bedroom door was ajar.
“Push the door, Wilma,” she muttered to herself in complaint. “What good is a lock if you don’t push the door close all the way?”
Something moved in her peripheral and she hated how Tenzin chose to have black walls. Narrowing her eyes, she realized there were two yellow globes staring at her. Her gasp caught in her throat as a low growl came from the creature. It took a step closer. She reeled back. Her foot cut loose across the wet floor. The towel fell to the floor as she prepared for impact. A clawed hand caught her stretched arm, yoking her forward. She yelped as the wolven face looked surprised. He tripped on her suitcase. It was enough to prompt him to yank her into him and roll as they crashed down on top of her stuff.
The aching of her beating heart brought her attention to where she laid. The fur and hard muscled body breathed slowly, the heart within the creature’s chest matched her own, fluttering in the darkness where nothing but the storm filled the air. Eyes daring to peer through the darkness, adjusted more now, she could see where a clawed hand rubbed her shoulder. A sigh escaped him, head laid back but even from below there was no mistaking that it was a monstrous wolflike head. Shifting a leg, her thigh rubbed against the hardened length and he grunted. Her face grew red as her mind reasoned with what the hell was happening.
“Is this … a fucking werewolf,” she muttered, eyes wide as she stiffened in his arms.
“Not fucking yet.” Lucan’s wolven head shifted and peered down at her. “But I mean, we can make that happen, what do you think, moonshine?”
A snap echoed through her mind.
Then came the scream, forcing Lucan’s ears flat and desperate to cover them.
Jolting to her feet, she flew out of the bedroom, throat on fire with her scream.
Halfway down the stairs, she slipped, feet still wet.
Bare-assed she bounced down the last few steps.
As her eyes focused on the kitchen opening thanks to the low firelight, a bigfoot rounded the corner.
Another scream crested where she sat naked at the bottom of the stairway.
“Whoa!” Boone raised his hands. “It's going to be ok, Ladybug!”
A much bigger, white furred version with glowing icy blue eyes appeared behind Bigfoot, gripping his shoulder and spinning him around violently.
“We’re not done talking, Boone.” Tenzin growled.
“Oh, we’re done. She’s freaking out, she needs me.” Boone brushed the hand off, but it returned twice as heavy. “Fucking let go, Tenzin or I’m going to hit you.”
“Try me,” dared Tenzin.
Boone reared back his arm.
“Moonshine, are you ok?” Lucan’s voice brought both their gazes to the top of the stairs.
The red furred werewolf had his ears back as he crept down the stairs with a towel in hand. He glanced nervously at the bigfoot and yeti who were locked into each other's grips now.
“You, um, dropped this.” Lucan offered the towel to Wilma.
She stared, her brain short circuiting as she looked up at the muscled, furred werewolf in disbelief. Slow, a shiver rolling over her as the fact she sat butt-ass-naked between three monsters sunk in. Trembling, she reached out slowly and took the towel and wrapped it around herself, standing as she stumbled to the couch. Once she sank into it, she pulled the cover over for good measure, cocooning herself until only her face could be seen. Wilma bounced between the three monstrous sets of eyes all watching her. Three monsters. All had seen her naked. And she didn’t even know what to do with that information, but there it was. Blinking, she recalled what unfolded upstairs, guffawing before turning to Lucan who stood at the bottom of the stairs where her wet butt print still painted the floor at his pawed feet.
“Did you,” she swallowed, reassuring that somewhere in that werewolf was Lucan at this point, “Did you have a hardon?”
“Moonshine,” purred Lucan. “I think we both know the answer to that one.”
“Lucan!” Tenzin reeled, his steps vibrating through the cabin. “Why were you even up there?”
“Hey, hey!” A yeti finger poked him in the furry chest. “The snow got thick, I got cold, and the door is blocked.”
“So how did you get in?” Boone crept closer to Wilma, though the empathetic expression softened her alarm as she watched him.
“Tenzin had me put in an attic door because the snowdrift got high enough last year.” Lucan’s ears flicked forward. “And to be fair, the bedroom door was open when I went to walk past and caught the scent of peaches again.”
“You kept a copy of the key?” Tenzin baulked at the notion, walking away he shifted back holding his head. “Are you fucking kidding me, Lucan! So that’s how you got into the cabin last night!”
“Well, I am your handyman,” offered Lucan.
Wilma gripped the blanket tighter, sitting up straighter as she took in all of what Tenzin was packing. Dark skin, white long hair cascading like a snowy waterfall swaying across the muscled back. He was lean and somehow more gorgeous without clothes. He turned and crossed his arms. The glower didn’t even phase the piercing blue irises as they took in the group who had invaded his private residency. Wilma’s eyes started from the top and descended until she locked gazes with the length between his thighs.
“Ms. Hart. My eyes are up here.”
Tenzin’s words made her dart toward Boone who knelt within reach now.
“Well you saw me naked…” she muttered.
Boone shifted, the big burly stud girthy down to his own package made her swallow. Her gaze shot to his eyes and he chuckled, lipping, it’s ok. Wilma half-laughed at the ridiculousness of the entire moment.
“You can look, I don’t care!” Lucan sounded jealous as he too joined the others.
Stepping out into the living room between the other two, Lucan was just as endowed as his monster-friends. Wilma shuffled uncomfortably. They were handsome, but they were also very much monsters. In fact, how can someone look more attractive with nothing on and why the hell were they blowing up with one another over … her? The situation?
“What the fuck is going on here?” She looked at Boone. “Are you … Bigfoot?”
Boone’s cheeks blushed. “That I am. And Tenzin is a yeti and Lucan’s a werewolf.”
“I’m still human, right?” Wilma startled.
“You are.” Tenzin pinched his nose. “Which is the problem, Ms. Hart. It seems we are all … reacting to your … scent.” It seemed painful for Tenzin to confess. “Please pull yourself together so we can discuss this.”
Lucan came closer, also kneeling next to her before whispering, “Don’t worry. It’s a wives’ tale where I can spread my curse.”
Wilma gave him a bewildered expression. “What?”
“It’s not like an STD or anything,” Lucan reassured.
Maybe I’m sprawled out in the bathroom from a head injury…
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