Heart of Frankenstein Read online

  Table of Contents

  Heart of Frankenstein

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Heart of Frankenstein Summary

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Read on for a taste of Masque...

  Also by Lexi Post

  About Lexi Post

  Heart of Frankenstein

  Copyright © 2017 by Lexi Post

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  For information contact Lexi Post at www.lexipostbooks.com

  Cover design by Syneca Featherstone

  Formatting by Bella Media Management

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-9985260-5-8

  Excerpt from Masque Copyright © 2013 by Lexi Post

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Bob Fabich, the model for this hero’s kind acts and one of my excellent resources on Alaska since he was stationed there. Thank you so much for Timber.

  And for my sister Paige Wood, who always finds the time to help make my stories better.

  For some very special readers: Veronica Westfall, who is a huge fan and a wonderful lady. Ashley Clark, who has been with me from my first book and has been patiently waiting two years for me to write this story.

  I want to thank Lisa Fishback for her help with Angela’s profession and for giving me Sturge. I also want to thank Pamela Todd and Kate Schieber for taking the time to go through this story with a fine-toothed comb.

  As always, I could not have kept on schedule without the help of Marie Patrick, a great critique partner and a fantastic friend.

  HEART OF FRANKENSTEIN

  Can a monster find love?

  In 1718, he was abandoned then betrayed, spurring his relentless desire for revenge against his creator, Victor Frankenstein. It is now the 21st Century, and despite his fervent wish for death, he still exists, tortured by his crimes, searching only for peace.

  Angela Ellis would have frozen to death in the harsh Alaskan wilderness if not for the man who found her on an icy ledge. He calls her Angel, but has no name himself. He is kind, caring, handsome, and scarred both outside and inside. The more she learns about him, the more she wants to know…and the more she falls in love.

  He is unworthy of love unless he can confess, but his secrets are buried deep and to reveal them would be to rip out his soul and lose his Angel. Unfortunately, he is given no say in the matter. Nature has a way of revealing all.

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  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Heart of Frankenstein was inspired by Mary Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus, published in 1818. When the story opens, it is the 18th Century and Victor Frankenstein is in the Arctic Ocean on a ship, which has rescued him after finding him on an ice float. He explains to the captain why he is there, chasing after a creature he created.

  Victor Frankenstein had a burning need to discover how to reanimate the dead. Upon his success, he built a man that is larger and stronger than any other, and who he describes as “beautiful.” Yet, as soon as he is successful and the man opens his yellowed eyes, Victor runs away, now fearful of what he’s done.

  The creature is left on his own to discover sunlight, fire, clothing, and food. He finds refuge in a shed attached to a poor family’s house and by listening and watching through a crack in the wall, learns language and how to read. When he reveals himself, he is chased away, but due to his experiences, he has a resentment toward his creator and kills Victor’s brother, framing the family’s servant for the murder.

  The creature then confronts Victor, tells him his side of the story and asks Victor to build him a mate, promising to leave him and all mankind alone if he does. Victor finally agrees and takes months traveling before settling on a lonely island in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland to build a woman. He creates the woman, but before he animates her, he sees the creature staring in the window with a smile on his face. Victor interprets the smile as evil and fears a species of murderers would be forthcoming, so he tears apart the woman before the creature’s eyes.

  The creature promises revenge and fulfills that promise by killing Victor’s best friend then later Victor’s wife on their wedding night. Enraged, Victor makes it his goal in life to kill his creation. The creature leads Victor all over Europe and into the Arctic, but at this point in his story, Victor dies on the ship never fulfilling his goal. The creature comes to the ship and finds Victor dead. He tells the captain of his doomed soul, promising to go to the top of the world, build himself a funeral pyre and set himself on fire.

  But what if the creature followed through, only to find he could not die? How would he live his life for the next three hundred years? And what would he do about a mate now that he was the only one of his species?

  CHAPTER ONE

  He stared at the almost naked woman frozen on the ledge of the mountain. She was breathtaking, especially to him. The women in the far northern regions of Alaska were bundled up so much that he couldn’t tell they were women. This woman had shed most of her clothes.

  Her face, turned in profile, was white from the cold and her light eyelashes reminded him of dried cotton grass in the late summer. Her long neck revealed no pulse and her golden hair, spread out on one side, appeared as if it had been frozen while blowing in the wind.

  He needed to move her, but he couldn’t help staring. Her breasts were covered by a thin white top that left her toned arms bare. Her waist was narrow, but her hips flared out in the shape that was the epitome of woman. She had long, tight pink leggings that disappeared beneath her socks, but her boots were thrown amongst her scattered outer clothes.

  She looked like a fallen angel. If she was alive, they would make a good match because his past made him closer to Satan than any other angel in man’s lexicon of religions.

  He looked back along the route he’d come. His tracks were obvious and unless a heavy snowstorm came in, they would remain so. Images of being attacked in Geneva sped across his mind. If anyone found her dead body here, he would be accused of murdering her.

  With no choice, he crouched down, his heart heavy that such a beautiful woman in the prime of her life was gone. At least with hypothermia, her mind would have slept before she felt the final breaths of life leave her. Unlike his mate, who was gone before she could take her first breath. The age-old rage that used to fill him barely caused more than a stutter of his heart now.

  Unable to resist, he stroked his bare finger over her cheek. At its softness, he drew back as if stung. Her cheek should be hard.

  Hesitantly, he set his finger beneath her nose. Was that breath? He couldn’t be sure. If it was, it was so shallow that she would die soon. Taking her delicate wrist in his hand, he felt for the pulse he couldn’t see in her neck.

  Nothing. Disappointment and sorrow rifl
ed through him. Was he so enamored of her looks that he wished her alive? Doubting his own senses, he lay two fingers along the side of her neck. At first, he couldn’t concentrate, her skin so soft it distracted him.

  Finally, he forced his mind to cooperate. Thump————thump————. Elation swept through him almost toppling him over. He had only felt so once before. Now, on the heels of his euphoria came panic.

  He had to save her. His mind raced as memories sped by of a search party he’d participated in years ago, shortly after he’d settled on his mountain. He had found the young male and thought him dead as well, but a rescue crew had taken over. He’d asked numerous questions, fascinated by the human body and how his own was different.

  Taking off his coat of bearskin fur that he donned when traveling anywhere he might be seen, he laid it on the ground next to her. Carefully, he moved her light form onto it and wrapped her tight. It was critical in this late stage that she not wake and try to move on her own or it could kill her.

  Lifting her in his arms, he was thankful for the extra strong limbs he’d been given and carefully strode down the mountain to his home. It was a simple one room cabin set against the mountain, hiding the cave he’d originally lived in when first arriving in the region.

  Having moved about the arctic for almost three hundred years, he was always careful to keep his presence a secret until he could determine where the closest inhabitant was and who or what they were.

  After entering his home, he laid the angel on her back on his handmade bed. Wrapped in his grizzly bear coat, she looked small. He thought back to the young man that he’d found. The rescuers had used warm rubber containers at the man’s neck, on his hands, under his arms, and between his legs.

  Quickly, he grabbed the smooth rock that he used to hold the door open when carrying supplies inside and set it in the coals of the wood stove. Striding outside, he grabbed up five smaller ones from his porch that he used for chasing away wolves and added them to the fire.

  The marten skins he had drying wouldn’t be large enough to wrap around the rocks, so he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, and ripped it. The material was flannel and its texture was perfect for her soft skin.

  Retrieving the rocks from the fire with his bare hands, he wrapped them in the material and carefully positioned them against her in the important areas. He placed the largest rock between her thighs then wrapped the coat around her again. He took the quilt hanging on his wall and laid that over her as well before standing back.

  What if he was too late? What if she’d been there too long? What if she was already dead, slipping away while he prepared the rocks?

  Then you’d be no worse off than you were before.

  But that wasn’t true. Before he didn’t know of her. Now, her path had crossed with his. Only twice before had he gazed upon such femininity with awe. The first time was while still in Germany when he’d watched Felix and Agatha, the people he learned to speak from while living in a shed attached to their house. They never knew he was there until the day he tried to befriend their blind father.

  He fisted his hands and tore his gaze from the face of his angel. The ensuing attack upon his person when he was found inside with their father was only the second betrayal of his miserable existence. It was less the stick Felix raised than the fact Felix raised anything against him that hurt, though it was less painful than his first betrayal, but a true harbinger of the exile to come.

  Turning back to the woman, he focused on the memories of what else the rescuers had done. He glanced at the wood stove. It might be too cool in his cabin. Immediately, he walked to the wood pile set against the wall and added two more split logs. They caught as they landed on the red coals, filling the stove with yellow flames.

  He returned to his bed and knelt down. Once again, he positioned his index finger beneath her nose. His stomach loosened as a faint breath stirred the tiny hairs below his knuckle. She lived.

  To help the body warm from the inside out, we use warm sugar water until we can get the victim to a hospital. The words of the rescuers ran through his head, his memory sharp, and in this case, he was grateful for that.

  He rose and moved to his long counter to pour fresh water into a small pot. He didn’t have sugar but he had birch syrup he’d boiled down himself. Pouring a liberal amount of his late season harvest into the water, he set it on the wood stove to warm.

  If he hadn’t seen the sun reflecting off something near her, he would have never spotted her. She must have been lost, which meant someone would be looking for her. He’d had no choice but to leave her clothes where they lay. He would need to go back and retrieve them for her.

  Though he understood he couldn’t keep her, nor that she would want to stay, he wanted to be sure she lived long enough to make that decision. If she died while under his care, he would be hunted down…again.

  Pulling the pot from the stove, he poured a small amount of the sweet water into a tin cup. Dipping his finger in, he guessed at its warmth before picking up his spoon from the counter and moving toward the bed. Kneeling on one knee once more, he dipped the spoon into the sweet water and lifted it to her mouth.

  Carefully, he dripped a little on her chapped lips, but it rolled to the side and down her jaw. Emptying the spooned water into the cup again, he used it to part her lips, but they closed again.

  He hesitated to touch her face. The action seemed too intimate. Moving her body to warm her was like any other body, but her face, so smooth and unblemished, was what made her different just as her brain and heart made her who she was. Who was she?

  Angela Ellis luxuriated in the warmth, a hot tub one of her favorite guilty pleasures. Letting her head fall back, she looked up but there was only fog. Where was she? Moving her gaze toward the ground, she couldn’t see it. She closed her eyes again. She must be in heaven.

  She chuckled. With a job that took her around the world, it wasn’t a surprise she couldn’t remember where she was for a moment, and really, how much did it matter? She was warm and happy and alone. Life couldn’t get any better than this…except on her next adventure vacation.

  She lifted her head as excitement thrummed through her. That was coming up soon. A month-long cruise along what she referred to as the people-less frontier. She loved the idea that there were billions of people on Earth, yet there were still places devoid of human life—except for visitors like herself.

  She moved her arms through the bubbling water. Or was she already on her vacation? She tried to think. Images of a dark bar with round outside windows flowed through her mind. More followed, standing in formation in a life jacket for a muster drill, eating fresh caught salmon, staying up to see the lights of the Aurora Borealis. She let her head fall back again. She must be in the hot tub on the outer deck, the ecological ship’s only nod toward the cruise industry. They must be traveling through fog.

  No wonder she was a little disoriented. She wouldn’t even be able to tell which way was up if not for the hot water. The fog didn’t seem to move. Why was everything so fuzzy? Did she drink too much last night?

  He steeled himself and gently forced his angel’s lower jaw down, effectively opening her mouth and dribbling a little of water into it before releasing her. He watched, but she didn’t swallow. Not wanting her to choke, he turned her head toward the wall and lowered her chin so the water could leak out.

  She was in too deep a sleep. What if she never woke? The thought sent a chill through him far greater than simple cold temperatures. There had to be something else he could do.

  A conversation he’d overheard at the outpost came to mind. A woman had been joking with her husband about sharing body heat with his hunting partner. The man had fallen through the ice and needed to get warm.

  He could do that for his angel. Standing, he quickly removed all his clothes. Since his sensitivity to temperatures had lessened over the centuries, he had no idea if his body would give off heat, but he had to try.

  He folded the
quilt down, and careful not to dislodge the heated rocks, moved her toward the middle of the bed. He opened the coat and lay next to her, quickly pulling the quilt over them. Gently, he lifted her head onto his arm and wrapped his other across her stomach.

  Her body felt cold even to him. Would she ever warm? Moving his leg against her to make contact all along the side of her body, he carefully covered her legs with his other one, bending it at the knee to avoid putting any weight on her.

  She smelled like the Arctic air and a faint hint of mint, her hair beneath his nose already softening. Her curvy body yielded to his hard one. He let his warm breath pass by her nose, hoping she’d bring that heat into her lungs.

  As he lay with her, a new sense of how fragile she was penetrated his brain. She wasn’t like most of the women he came into contact with. Though she was a nice size, her face was not weathered by the harsh elements of Alaska and her skin was far too pale to have been hit by the northern sun for years.

  She was even more beautiful than he’d originally thought. She was precious, like an angel. Fate had brought her to him. With her, saving her, he might finally find peace. Despite his newfound hope, or maybe because of it, his body came alive with the sensations of touching her.

  Though she retained a layer of clothing, he’d shed all of his. His cock, nestled against her hip began to grow firmer. The skin on his arm where it touched hers, prickled with pleasure. And he couldn’t resist stroking his nose over her cheek.

  His body wanted to mate, but he never could. He wasn’t a man. He was something else, something reprehensible, something other than human. The only hope he had for his existence was peace. But it didn’t keep him from yearning for what could never be.

  Though he was regulated to finding snippets of comfort in the mundane, with her in his arms he found a sense of happiness. Even if just for a fleeting moment in his timeline, he would treasure it.

  He held her a little tighter, enjoying the feel of his hard cock pressed against her and the silkiness of her hair upon his arm. As desire built inside him, he embraced it for the oddity it was, reveled in its sensations.