Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Rona
I’m so tired right now that my head is about to explode, and yet I can’t close my eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.
I don’t even know where we’re going. For some strange reason, I don’t really care. Darhg makes me feel safe, and I’ll take it, even if safety is an illusion right now.
Sometimes a girl needs to be delusional for a bit.
“We’re here,” he says without so much as glancing in the rearview mirror.
I glue my face to the window, suddenly wide awake.
The headlights carve through the swirling snow like knives, cutting a path through the darkness as Darhg's SUV crunches onto a long snow-rimmed gravel drive.
I crank my neck, trying to make out our destination through the blowing flakes, but all I can see is the dark outline of a single-story building against the snow-covered land.
When Darhg cuts the engine, the only sound around is the relentless howling of the wind through the towering pines. The house, or more like the cabin, sits on a small clearing surrounded by a forbidding-looking forest. It looks impossibly small and isolated. Vulnerable.
I try to suppress a shudder of apprehension, but I don’t quite manage it. He turns to me, his amber eyes reflecting the light.
“Wait here.”
“Sir, no, sir,” I scoff, immediately reaching for the door handle. “No way I’m staying behind in the dark like that. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know what happens if I do.”
“Do you have to be this difficult?” Darhg asks, his brows furrowed in a scowl, his lips pressed together, making the white of his tusks even more striking.
He looks so severe and stern like this. Something churns low in my belly at the authority in his gaze, and I press my thighs together in an instinctive gesture.
Darhg’s nostrils flare. For just a fraction of a second, so fast I’m not even sure I didn’t dream it, his eyes blaze red, as if lit from inside.
Then they go back to their mesmerizing amber color.
“It’s a talent of mine,” I chirp, trying to divert from my body’s unwanted and totally embarrassing reaction.
Darhg growls—actually growls—as he glares at me. I’m pretty sure he expects me to whimper like a scared puppy, but I just give him my brightest smile, and he shakes his head in defeat.
“Stay behind me, then.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
He growls again, shaking his head, and I’ll be damned if the corner of his mouth doesn’t lift just a little. So he’s not totally humorless.
Once we’re outside, the cold steals my thoughts.
Our breaths are puffs of white in the frigid air, and I pull his oversized hoodie tighter around my head, shivering in my too-thin city coat.
It takes me a single second to wish I’d packed boots and mittens, but I had so little time and I was so frazzled that I didn’t even think of the weather.
Not that a Georgia girl knows anything about this kind of frozen hellhole anyway.
This weather is simply barbaric. For a fleeting instant, I almost tell Darhg to bring me back to face the vultures of the press instead.
Then I regain my sanity enough to follow the towering ogre through the cleared driveway and to the front porch.
"Where are we?" I ask, but he either ignores me or doesn’t hear me as he walks toward the dark cabin with that silent, predatory grace that makes my pulse skip.
"Somewhere safe," he finally says without looking back.
The cabin looks like something out of a fairy tale, all rough-hewn logs and stone chimney, nestled against the pine forest like it grew there naturally.
But it's completely dark, no welcoming glow in the windows, no smoke rising from the chimney.
Just a cold, empty shell perched above the frozen land.
Darhg unlocks the front door and gestures for me to go inside. I automatically reach for the wall switch, but nothing happens when I flip it.
"Power's off," he explains, moving past me with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing a place in complete darkness. "Generator needs to be turned on first."
I stand awkwardly in the entryway, listening to him move around in what I assume is the kitchen, judging by the faint light shining from a nearby window. There's the sound of a cupboard opening, then the scrape of a match, and suddenly warm golden light blooms from an old-fashioned oil lamp.
"Oh," I breathe, taking in the space for the first time.
It's like stepping into a rustic dream. The lamp's glow illuminates a cozy room with exposed log walls, a massive stone fireplace, and a small kitchen tucked into one corner. Everything feels handmade and loved.
"Wait by the fireplace," Darhg says, setting the lamp on a round kitchen table and shrugging out of his coat. "I'll get the fire going."
I watch, fascinated, as he moves to the neat stack of firewood set in a cast-iron log rack set next to the stone fireplace with the kind of easy efficiency that speaks of long practice.
He lays kindling down with careful motions, adds two split logs and a fuzzy-looking firestarter bundle, then strikes a match.
The fire catches with a dry snap and crackle, and I find myself drawn closer to the promise of warmth.
"You've done this before," I observe, slipping off my wet shoes onto a tray by the door and padding closer in my stocking feet.
He glances up at me, and in the firelight, his amber eyes seem to glow. "My whole life."
There's something in his voice that makes me pause. It’s a note of… what? Nostalgia? Pain? Before I can analyze it, he's moving again, heading to a small digital panel by what looks like a back door.
"Generator," he explains briefly, flipping switches. A few seconds later, the house hums to life, and warm electric light fills the space.
I blink in the sudden brightness, taking in details I'd missed before.
The kitchen is small but well appointed, with cast-iron pans hanging above a spotless stove.
Comfortable furniture is arranged around the fireplace, all in well-worn leather.
A short hallway leads deeper into the cabin, where I distinguish two doors.
And everywhere, the kind of homey touches that speak of a life lived here.
"Water's still off," he says, checking something on the panel. "House needs to warm up first. It's been winterized."
"That's fine," I assure him, hugging myself as the first real wave of heat from the fireplace reaches me. "This is perfect."
He turns to look at me, and I catch something flickering across his expression. Surprise, maybe?
"You don't have to pretend," he says carefully. "I know you're used to better than this."
The assumption stings more than it should. Everyone always thinks they know what I want, what I need, who I am. Even him.
"You don't know me as well as you think you do," I say, meeting his gaze directly. "This cabin is perfectly fine. I don't need luxury, Darhg. I never wanted it."
He holds my gaze for a long moment, and I see something shift in those amber depths. The faintest trace of a smile touches his lips, gone so fast I might have imagined it. But it's enough to set a hurricane spinning between my ribs.
"I need to check the propane tank," he says, his voice rougher than before. "For the generator."
And then he's gone, leaving me alone in the golden warmth of his sanctuary.
Because that's what this is, I realize as I explore the space on quiet feet. This isn't just a cabin. It's his home. His refuge. And he brought me here.
The heat kisses my shins through my jeans, finally chasing away the bone-deep chill from outside.
I pad around the room in my stocking feet, taking in the cozy details.
The braided rug is soft under my feet, clearly handmade.
The crochet throw draped over the sofa is done in rich blues and greens, the kind of intricate work that takes months to complete.
Everything here speaks of care, of time taken to make a space not just functional but comfortable.
But it's the mantle that draws me like a magnet.
Framed photos line the wooden shelf above the fireplace, and I study them with shameless curiosity.
A gap-toothed ogre boy in a muddy soccer jersey, grinning at the camera with pure joy.
A lanky teenager with Darhg's amber eyes and stubborn jaw, scowling at the photographer from behind too-long bangs, wearing a dark suit and a flower on his lapel in what I assume to be his prom outfit.
My heart does something complicated in my chest. Baby Darhg. Teenage Darhg. Both versions stir feelings inside me that I don’t want to feel, and yet I can’t take my eyes away.
There's a middle-aged ogre woman with laugh lines around her eyes and Darhg's strong jaw, wearing what looks like a graduation cap. His mother, maybe? And next to that, an older ogre woman in a flour-dusted apron, her expression stern but kind, silver hair pulled back in a neat bun.
His grandmother, I’m sure of it.
The front door opens, bringing a gust of cold air and the sound of stomping boots. I turn to find Darhg in the doorway, my bag in his hand and snowflakes melting in his dark hair. He takes off his boots and sets them neatly next to mine on the tray by the door.
"Bedroom's down the hall," he says, heading toward the short corridor. "End room."
I follow him, hyperaware of his presence in the narrow space. He pushes open a door, and warm light spills over a bedroom that makes my chest tight with longing. I hadn’t realized how tired I was until looking at a bed. It’s cozy and covered in a thick duvet in deep-red plaid.
"Where's your room?" I ask, looking back down the hallway and seeing only one other door, which is clearly a bathroom, confirming what I already suspected.
He sets my bag at the foot of the bed and turns back to me, his expression devoid of emotion.
"Is there only one bedroom?" I press, raising my eyebrows.
He only grunts in response, but I can see the answer in the way his jaw tightens.
“Yes.”
"Are you planning on sleeping here with me?" The wicked smile stretches across my lips before I can stop it. “I’m great at cuddles, you know.”
I bat my eyelashes innocently, enjoying the way his whole body goes rigid.
His eyes flash a shocking bright red in the first real emotion I've seen from him all day. The sound that rumbles from his chest is low and dangerous, somewhere between a growl and a warning.
Message received loud and clear. I definitely affect him.
"I'm taking the couch," he says, his voice rough.
"Too bad," I murmur, delighted by his reaction. Then I smile sweetly, as if I hadn't just poked a very large, very dangerous bear.
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out my phone, holding it across the space between us. His fingers brush mine as I take it, and the contact sends electricity shooting up my arm.
"Use it only if absolutely necessary," he says, his tone matter-of-fact. Too matter-of-fact. "Tell no one where you are except your mother."
I tuck the phone into my hoodie pocket and give him a small salute. "Sir, yes, sir."
Something flickers across his expression. Frustration, maybe, or something darker? I decide to push just a little further.
"What should I do if I get cold?" I ask innocently. "Or scared?"
The growl that rumbles from his chest is answer enough.
Oh, this is fun.
He turns away and steps toward the hallway, and I can practically feel the control he's exerting over himself. When he reaches the doorway, he pauses without looking back.
"Good night, Rona."
And then he pulls the bedroom door closed behind him with a firm, final click.
I stand there for a moment, grinning to myself. My entire life has just imploded. I'm stuck in an isolated cabin with my mother's bodyguard while the entire internet thinks I'm a party girl who strips for strangers. I should be crying. I should be terrified.
Instead, I'm thinking that if I'm going to be snowed in with a grumpy ogre, I might as well make it fun.