CHAPTER 6
Mallory
Mallory was pleased, but not surprised, when a handwritten note appeared with the breakfast tray that she ordered through room service.
I’d rather not make an appearance again if at all avoidable. If you’d like to discover other parts of the mountains, meet me by your bird in one hour. ~J
It warmed her heart that he remembered the bird and that he had been considerate enough not to put her on public display again.
“Even though he’s probably covering his own royal butt,” she muttered.
It wasn’t even a question of whether or not she was going. Violet and Brooke had a day of shopping planned, so she wanted to be gone before they realized. She ate her breakfast as she dressed and left a quick note before she headed to where she had spoken to the starling.
The starling was gone when she met up with Jakob. After a quick greeting, they headed away from the population of Onyxheim.
A couple hours later, they’d gone farther than Mallory had ever gone before. She felt the difference the moment the air started to feel thinner in her chest.
She told herself it was fine. Plenty of people hiked higher than this all the time. Jakob certainly did. He’d mentioned offhandedly that this trail climbed deeper into the mountains than the ones she usually stuck to. He hadn’t sounded concerned, just factual.
She couldn’t deny that she never felt concerned for her safety when she was around Jakob. He was like her guardian angel, the poor man.
The trail had narrowed as they climbed, the packed snow had given way to something looser and quieter.
The trees pressed in closer here, taller and darker.
Their branches hung heavy with old snow and she wondered if it ever completely melted at this elevation.
The world felt different and much bigger than she was.
Her legs burned, not painfully, but insistently.
Her lungs worked harder with each breath sharp and cold as it scraped down her throat.
She kept her focus on Jakob’s back and on the steady way he moved ahead of her like the mountain was an old acquaintance instead of something that demanded respect.
You could turn back, she told herself.
The thought came out of nowhere, and she shoved it away just as quickly. They weren’t lost. They weren’t in trouble. The sky was gray, sure, but gray didn’t mean dangerous. It meant winter. It meant mountains.
Still, unease prickled at the base of her spine with a quiet awareness that she was outside her comfort zone and much farther from control than she liked to be. She hated that feeling that made her hyper-aware of every detail and every shallow breath.
“Are you okay?” Jakob had asked as he glanced back at her.
She hesitated just long enough to annoy herself. “Yeah,” she finally said and forced a smile he probably didn’t even need. “Just not used to this altitude.”
He nodded like that explained everything and slowed his pace a fraction. The gesture warmed her but made her a bit uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be managed and definitely didn’t want to be the weak link.
They were rounding a bend in the trail when the light changed.
Nothing dramatic and not all at once. Just enough that Mallory noticed the way the air seemed to suddenly still and not a branch moved on a tree.
But then the storm came out of nowhere.
One minute the sky had been a dull, unpromising gray and the next it collapsed into chaos.
Snow began to fall in thick, blinding sheets and was whipped sideways by a wind that screamed through the pines like something alive and angry.
The trail vanished beneath their feet within minutes, swallowed whole as the world narrowed to cold and noise and white.
Mallory’s first instinct was denial. Storms didn’t just happen like this. Not without warning. Not without time to prepare. But the sting of ice against her cheeks and the way the wind knocked the breath from her lungs argued otherwise.
Her teeth chattered as she stumbled and grabbed Jakob’s sleeve. The fabric was rough beneath her fingers and she clung to it like an anchor. “This is insane,” she shouted over the wind. “Are storms like this normal?”
Jakob slowed just long enough to look back at her.
His dark brows were pulled low as snow clung to his lashes.
His jaw tightened. “Not usually,” he said.
His voice carried easily despite the gale, and it was steady in a way that made her chest ache with relief.
He scanned the trees, eyes sharp, as he assessed the area. “We need shelter. Now.”
Fear bloomed hot and sudden in her stomach. Not the panicked kind, but the cold, rational fear that whispered you are not in control. Mallory nodded, even though he’d already turned away.
He didn’t wait for her answer. His hand closed around hers, warm even through her glove, and he pulled her forward with urgent strength.
Mallory followed blindly, trusting him because there was nothing else she could do.
The wind shoved at her back and snow stung her cheeks, but Jakob kept moving, sure-footed and purposeful as he guided her between dark tree trunks that groaned and swayed.
A traitorous thought slipped in: He’s done this before. Not the storm, maybe, but danger. Crisis. Leading instead of panicking. It unsettled her how quickly she leaned into that certainty.
Her lungs burned by the time she saw the small log shelter tucked against a rock face. Its outline was nearly erased by drifting snow. She would have walked right past it if Jakob hadn’t veered sharply toward the cliff.
“There,” he said.
Relief hit her so hard her knees nearly buckled.
He reached the door first and wrenched it open against the wind, then held it open enough to usher her in. Mallory stumbled over the threshold and nearly fell before Jakob slammed the door shut behind them.
The sudden silence was jarring.
The roar of the storm faded to a muffled hiss beyond thick logs, leaving only the creak of wood, the soft patter of snow on the roof, and the sound of their ragged, uneven, breathing that was loud in the small space.
Mallory leaned her hands on her knees and sucked in air. Her whole body shook from cold, adrenaline, and the delayed realization of how close they’d come to being stranded in the open.
Get a grip, she told herself. Panic won’t help. It never had.
The shelter was simple: a stone firepit in the center, neatly stacked wood along one wall, and a narrow bench built into the logs. The place smelled faintly of smoke and pine resin, old and comforting, and evidence that others had survived storms like this.
She brushed snow from her coat and hair, sending icy clumps to the floor. “That was…” She let out a breathless laugh that sounded thin even to her own ears. “Intense.”
Jakob shook himself off like a wolf shedding water. Snow scattered from his shoulders and damp curls clung to his forehead. He looked different in the dim light, wilder somehow. Like the storm had stripped away whatever polished appearance he normally wore.
The realization made her pulse skip.
Mallory realized she was staring and forced her gaze away. Heat crept into her cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. This is not the time, she reminded herself firmly. Fear had a way of confusing things. Heightening them. Making emotions feel bigger than they really were.
“I’ll start a fire,” Jakob said as he broke into her thoughts.
Grateful for something practical to focus on, Mallory watched him kneel by the pit.
His movements were efficient and practiced.
His hands were steady as he struck flint and sparks leapt bright in the dimness.
Flames caught quickly and licked up through the kindling before they threw golden light across the wooden walls.
Warmth began to bloom and loosened the knot between her shoulders.
Mallory inched closer to the fire and held her hands out. She rubbed them together as feeling slowly returned to her fingers in sharp, prickling waves. She closed her eyes for a second and breathed in the smoke and pine.
She didn’t notice Jakob watching her at first. She felt it instead. A presence at her back. Heat that wasn’t coming from the flames.
Her spine stiffened but not with fear, exactly, but awareness that was too sharp and way too intimate.
He stepped closer, his boots quiet on the packed earth floor. “Hold still,” he murmured.
Her breath caught.
Every sensible part of her brain told her to step away, to put space between them. Proximity plus adrenaline was a dangerous mix. But her body didn’t listen.
Jakob lifted a hand and brushed a clump of snow from her hair, both slowly and carefully as if she might spook. His fingertips grazed her scalp which sent a shiver straight down her spine.
Mallory swallowed. It’s nothing, she told herself. Just snow.
Then he brushed another.
And another.
The world seemed to shrink until there was only the soft drag of his fingers, the warmth of his so close to her back, and the crackle of the fire. Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
This wasn’t nothing. When he swept the last bit of snow away, his hand lingered just a moment too long.
Like in her dream, Mallory leaned into it without meaning to and her head nuzzled slightly toward his touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The realization hit her a split second too late. Jakob sucked in a sharp breath and jerked back as if burned.
Mortification flooded her. Idiot.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and hugged her arms around herself as if that could contain the embarrassment, or the disappointment. “I didn’t mean to…” Shame choked off her ability to speak.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice was strained, thick, like he was forcing the words past something tight in his chest. “I just…I shouldn’t…”
He turned away and paced once as he ran a hand through his damp hair. He looked almost tortured with his rigid shoulders and clenched jaw, like he was holding himself back from something powerful and dangerous.
Mallory’s stomach twisted.
A familiar instinct rose in her, the urge to retreat and apologize for existing too loudly in someone else’s space. She pushed against it.
“Jakob…” Her voice softened despite herself. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, please tell me what I can do to stop it.”
“You’re not,” he said instantly.
He stopped pacing and faced her. The firelight caught in his eyes and turned them dark and intense as he stared at her like she was the single most dangerous thing he’d ever encountered.
“You’re the opposite of uncomfortable,” he said softly.
The words landed heavier than any touch.
Her heartbeat hammered, a mix of fear and something she didn’t want to name. Attraction was easy. This, though. This felt sharper. Riskier. Like stepping too close to a cliff edge.
The fire popped and a log shifted. Snow hissed faintly against the shelter roof.
Mallory sat down on the bench near the flames and hugged her knees to her chest. She focused on the heat and the dance of the flames as she tried to calm the wild tempo in her pulse. She told herself she was just cold or shaken.
Jakob stayed at the far end of the room, as far away as possible, as if distance was the only thing keeping him in control.
But his eyes never left her. She could feel him wanting and warring with himself.
Mallory stared into the fire, its glow reflecting in her eyes. She felt the tension humming between them like a live wire stretched too tight and felt her own internal tug-of-war between caution and curiosity, somewhere between self-preservation and the dangerous urge to step closer.
Her heart wouldn’t slow. Neither would his breathing.
And in that tiny shelter, with the storm raging on the other side of the walls, Mallory knew two things with absolute clarity.
Jakob was fighting something fierce and terrifying inside himself.
And the most unsettling part was that some small, reckless part of her wanted to know what would happen if he stopped.