Chapter 5 #2
Heat flushed through her chest. She was dying of cold, and her body was responding to the promise in his yellow eyes like this was some kind of romantic jaunt. She needed to get a grip, like yesterday.
She managed a jerky nod.
His fingers popped the buttons quickly, each small movement sending jolts of awareness up her spine.
He kept his gaze fixed on the task, but she caught the flicker when his knuckles brushed her collarbone.
The shirt fell away, leaving her in her bra and work pants.
Cold air hit her exposed skin, raising goosebumps across her arms and chest.
He went still.
Not the stillness of someone concentrating on a medical task, but the stillness of a predator.
His gaze tracked over her bare shoulders, down to where her bra pressed against skin gone pale with cold, then snapped back to her face.
Heat flickered behind his yellow eyes, not the clean burn of medical concern, but something darker. Hungrier.
“The pants are wet too.” The words came out like gravel. “They’ll make you colder.”
Her pulse jumped, sending blood rushing to places that had been numb with cold moments before. This wasn’t the polite, respectful Zeke who’d hovered near her table at the wedding. This was something else. He was something else. Someone else. Someone who looked at her like she belonged to him.
She nodded and fumbled with her belt, but her fingers were too stiff to work the buckle properly. His hands covered hers again, pushing them aside. The buckle opened under his touch, followed by the button and zipper. His fingers brushed against her stomach as he worked, and her breath hitched.
The pants peeled away from her legs, taking her boots with them. His movements became more careful when he reached her injured leg. Dark stains had soaked through the fabric strips of the makeshift splint still tied in place.
“You did this yourself.” Not a question. His thumb traced over the knotted binding, following the line where she’d torn fabric to secure the splint. “In the forest.”
“Yeah. I had to.” Her voice sounded strange, thick and slow. “Splint was broken.”
His yellow eyes fixed on her face with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
“You’re bleeding.” He crouched beside her leg, fingers probing the edge of the splint. She watched him examine the dark stain spreading through the fabric binding, absently curious.
Well, would you look at that.
It was blood. Her blood. She should have been concerned, but the injury felt distant, disconnected.
He unwrapped the binding carefully to uncover the splint underneath. The wood was stained dark where it had cut into her calf, a gash maybe three inches long that should have hurt like hell. Instead, she felt nothing but distant pressure as he examined the wound.
“Needs cleaning.” He stood, scanning the cabin’s sparse furniture. “And you need to warm up before your core temperature drops any further.”
A pile of furs sat against the far wall, covered by a woven blanket that had seen better days. He stripped the covering away to reveal thick pelts underneath… some kind of alien creature with dense, dark fur. He turned back to her.
“The rest needs to come off.” His gaze flicked over her bra and underwear. “Everything’s wet.”
Heat flashed through her, and she felt like giggling. She was sitting in her underwear in front of a man who’d just killed people to save her, and she was responding like this was foreplay instead of survival.
“I can—”
“No.” The word cut through her protest. “Your hands are shaking too badly.”
Yeah, He was right. Her fingers trembled in her lap. She couldn’t have managed her bra clasp if her life depended on it.
Actually, it probably did.
He moved behind her, and she felt his knuckles brush against her spine as he worked the clasp. The contact sent heat racing along her nerve endings, the rough texture of his skin a shock against her back. The bra fell away, and cold air wrapped around her breasts, tightening her nipples into peaks.
His hands settled on her hips, thumbs hooking under the waistband of her underwear.
The contact made her entire body jolt, and she arched against him without thinking.
She felt the heat radiating from his body, close enough to touch but not quite making contact.
His breathing had gone shallow behind her.
“Up.” The command was soft but absolute.
She lifted her hips, and he slid the fabric down her legs with movements that were gentle but efficient. No unnecessary touching, no lingering contact. But when she risked a glance over her shoulder, she caught him looking, really looking, and he jerked his gaze away.
Naked and shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt at modesty. His gaze swept over her body, and she burned despite the cold. When their eyes met, he looked away first.
“Bed.” He scooped her up before she could argue, and she couldn’t stop herself from curling against his larger body. God, he was so warm. She pressed closer without thinking.
The furs were rough against her skin but blissfully dry as he settled her under them. The pelts smelled faintly of musk and something wild, but they trapped warmth like nothing she’d ever experienced.
The shivering started again, violent tremors that made her teeth chatter and her muscles cramp. Good sign, her brain supplied. Shivering meant her body was still trying to fight the cold.
He disappeared from view, rummaging through the cabin’s sparse furnishings.
Drawers opened from across the room, the scrape of wood against wood breaking the silence.
When he returned, he carried what looked like a bottle of something clear and strips of clean cloth—not human medical supplies, but they’d do.
“This will sting.” He sat on the edge of the bed, the furs dipping under his weight. “But the wound needs to be clean.”
The alcohol hit the wound like liquid fire. She clenched her teeth to stop from crying out as pain exploded up her leg. The sensation was almost welcome after the numbness of hypothermia, proof that her nerve endings were still working.
His thumb stroked across her ankle while he worked, his skin warm and slightly rough against hers.
A small comfort that he probably didn’t even realize he was offering.
His touch was careful, professional, but she caught the way his gaze lingered on the curve of her calf, the line of her thigh where it disappeared under the furs.
He was holding back. She could see it in the tension across his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched when his fingers brushed against her skin. The predator was leashed, but barely.
And she was the prey he wanted to devour.
The knowledge should have terrified her. This was the same man who’d ripped through dangerous ferals like they were nothing.
But fear was the furthest thing from her mind.
He finished cleaning the cut and reached for the cloth strips, wrapping them with the same careful attention he’d shown her splint.
“Better.” He secured the bandage, fitting the splint back into place, and then his hands stilled on her leg. “But you’re still too cold.”
She was. Despite the dry furs and relative shelter of the cabin, her temperature hadn’t started to climb. Her fingers were still white, her toes numb blocks that she couldn’t feel when she tried to wiggle them.
His yellow eyes met hers.
“Skin-to-skin contact.” His voice was rough, like he was fighting to keep it level. “It’s the most efficient way to raise your core temperature.”
Heat washed through her, sudden and intense.
“Zeke...” Her voice came out as barely a whisper. The doubt must have shown on her face because his expression went carefully blank.
“You’re safe with me.” The words were soft. “Always.”
“I know,” she whispered, scooting over to the side to make room for him on the pallet.
He stood, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he was leaving. Then his hands went to the fastenings of his pants, and her mouth went dry.
The fabric fell away, revealing the powerful lines of his body. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, muscles that spoke of years spent in combat. Scars marked his chest and arms, thin white lines that told stories she didn’t know. And between his thighs...
She looked away, heat flooding her face.
The furs shifted as he slid under them beside her. His skin was fever-hot against hers, and she couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped as his arm came around her waist. He pulled her back against his chest, spooning her body against his.
It was heaven. Pure heaven.
His heat soaked into her cold skin, warming her from the outside in.
She felt every inch of him pressed against her, the hard planes of his chest, the ridged muscle of his stomach, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal against her lower back.
His skin was slightly rough, textured in ways that spoke of his alien heritage, and everywhere he touched sent sparks racing through her.
“Just warming up,” he murmured against her ear, but his voice was strained.
His arm tightened around her waist, and she felt the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled with restrained power.
One word from her, and that leash would snap.
The thought sent liquid heat pooling low in her belly, making her shift against him in ways that had nothing to do with sharing body heat.
“Michelle.” Her name sounded like a warning on his lips. “Don’t.”
But she could hear the want beneath the warning. Felt it in the way his hand splayed across her stomach, fingertips just brushing the underside of her breast.
Warmth spread through her body, chasing away the numbness. Her fingers were beginning to tingle as circulation returned, and her toes were starting to ache with returning sensation.
Her eyelids grew heavy as warmth seeped into her bones. The steady rhythm of his breathing against her back, the solid wall of heat surrounding her—it was the first time she’d felt truly safe since the ferals had taken her.
“Sleep,” he said, his voice rough. “You need rest.”
She wanted to argue, to turn in his arms and face whatever was building between them. But exhaustion pulled her under, her body finally able to relax now that she was warm and safe.
As consciousness slipped away, she felt his lips brush against her hair, so softly she might have imagined it.