15 #3
Folding himself back, he pierces me with his gaze.
‘But it may not last long.’ His voice drops a register and his smile falters.
‘What are you willing to do to be warm again?’ he reiterates.
‘Five more minutes out here, and those fingers will become less useful…’ The latter comes out quieter.
‘And then the winter sets in your system.’
Even with my body on overdrive, my first instinct is to spit on him. To tell him I’d rather freeze than play house with a madman whose idea of conversation is educational hypothermia.
But my body ignores the pride entirely. My legs are shaking uncontrollably from the cold wind sawing at my muscles. Pins and needles stab my ankles.
I do imagine walking. Just… turning and going. North, south, doesn’t matter. It’s white in every fucking direction.
And the sun is already fading.
In my mind’s eye, there are only headlines about a woman found frozen. My parents are giving some polished interview about how they saw the signs. Ron is shaking his head as if he hadn’t already abandoned me long before this.
And at the end of it all? Elias. Knowing precisely how long it took me to fall.
My throat narrows, but not from the cold. It’s something shameful, carrying a heat that doesn’t warm.
It’s horrific – the way the mind flips all switches and only leaves one in survival mode. It’s the simplest thing of all. And it brings out the only truth that matters in that moment: I don’t want to die out here. Alone. Faceless, under snow.
And he knows it.
The warmth behind him licks at the edges of my vision.
I swallow. Taste metal. And very slowly, force my feet to move.
One shuddering step.
Another.
Snow crunches under my wet slippers as if protesting the loss of its prey.
When I reach him at the threshold, I look down at his face. The fireplace peers from behind him in mock-invitation, but the blizzard takes whatever warmth makes it out the open door.
‘I’ll c-cook,’ I barely manage. ‘D-do the…. chores. Won’t r-r-run.’
Nothing happens. He doesn’t move. His face doesn’t soften.
‘No,’ he says.
A fresh wave of tremors rips through me as my tongue tangles.
‘What do you w-want?’ I gasp. A sharp sting of air digs into my gullet.
He untangles his fingers. ‘“Small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life.”’ His gaze travels to the snow beneath me. ‘You might have to get on your knees to crawl through them.’
He could have just slapped me. With a fucking axe. It would burn less than citing the Bible.
Humiliation hits hard and spreads low as I stare at him.
‘Elias—’
The wind takes another bite out of my exposed skin, as if flaying me alive.
He tilts his head to the side slightly, enough for the heat to spill from the house and brush over my legs. A taste. A tease.
‘Show me the difference between wanting and needing. Show me you’re thankful for the warmth and food I share with you,’ he says. ‘Tick-tock.’
All I can hear is my pulse pounding in my ears and the faint hiss of the wind.
Stiffly, shakily, I lower myself. The snow at the threshold soaks through the fabric instantly, biting at my knees, but whatever this is burns hotter than the cold that shoots straight up my thighs the moment my skin touches the ground.
A small sound escapes me when my legs sink deeper into the snow.
He watches the whole descent without a single reaction.
When I finally look up, the angle is wrong. Too humbling.
His immovable, solid frame fills the doorway above me even with him folded into a crouch.
My voice comes out low and rough. ‘Thank-k y-y-you…’
He dips his head closer. And that small lick of his body heat drives me over the edge.
I scurry towards him, burying into his chest that radiates heat and spite in equal measure.
‘F-for the w-warmth.’ I sniff, gripping his navy jumper. ‘And t-the f-f-ood.’
‘And for keeping you safe.’
Safe. From the danger he dragged me into. From the cold he weaponised.
But I’m nodding. My voice won’t come as though the winter has frozen it solid behind my teeth.
‘Aloud.’
‘S… safety.’ It judders over my rattling teeth.
‘For letting you join in on the chores.’
‘Ch… chores.’ My tongue feels too big and too clumsy in my mouth.
‘And for allowing you to sleep in my bed.’
The next wave of tremors crashes over me so hard my vision spots. But it isn’t just the cold. It’s a molten thing threading through the ice that makes my lungs forget their rhythm.
A gasp snags behind my teeth as I peel myself back just enough to tilt my head and look up into the face of the azure-eyed demon holding the door between life and death.
‘W-what?’ The word splinters out of me.
‘In my bed,’ he clarifies softly, bending closer towards my mouth. ‘Next to me.’
God help me.
‘Nod, Leah.’
I do. Jerky, puppet-like movements that feel nothing like consent and everything like reflex.
‘Beg me.’
Numb and traitorous, my lips tingle with the sound before it comes. ‘P-please, El… Elias… l-let me in-n.’
‘No,’ he cuts in, voice dropping lower, crueller. ‘To sleep next to me.’
His arms finally reach fully around my back, sealing me into the furnace of his chest. The heat sears through silk and skin, straight into bone, thawing me from the inside out. My body still shudders, caught between disdain, shock and ache I don’t want to examine.
‘P-please—’ My voice splinters, each word a struggle, ‘will y-you… l-let m-me… s-s-sleep next… t-to you?’
‘Of course, elskling.’ He smiles, guides me up onto unsteady feet and drags me over the threshold into the warmth. The house devours us. The door shuts out the screaming cold as the last howl of the wind steals his words:
‘What kind of fiancé would I be if I didn’t?’