Chapter 32 Kaia
Kaia
Mouse finds the cave.
One moment he’s scouting ahead, a dark streak against the white. The next, he’s back at my feet, tail flicking toward a shadow in the rock face I would have walked right past.
“There?” I manage through chattering teeth.
He flicks his tail again. Obviously.
The entrance is narrow — barely wide enough for Torric to squeeze through sideways — but it opens into a space large enough for all of us. Dry. Sheltered from the wind. Cold, but not the killing cold of the exposed mountain.
It’s the closest thing to salvation we’ve found in days.
“Thank the gods,” Finn breathes, stumbling in behind me.
Nobody argues. Nobody has the energy.
Torric gets a fire going with a flick of his wrist — his rune flaring bright before settling into steady flames.
The warmth spreads slowly, pushing back the worst of the chill.
We cluster around it like moths, drawn to the heat with a desperation that would be embarrassing if we weren’t all feeling it.
My shadows settle around us. Bob takes position near the cave entrance, a dark sentinel against whatever might try to follow us in.
Patricia’s notebook dims as she drifts toward the fire.
Linda hovers near Aspen, who’s already half-asleep against the cave wall.
The Eds cluster around Darian, as always — fewer of them now, after the boulder.
I try not to think about that.
Mouse curls at my feet, a warm weight against my frozen toes. Finnick attempts to burrow into my coat pocket and gets batted away by Walter, who’s taken up residence there without asking permission.
“We should set watches,” Kieran says.
“We should sleep,” Finn counters. “All of us. For once.”
“The mountain—”
“The mountain will still be there in the morning.” Finn’s voice is exhausted. “And we’ll be useless if we’re dead on our feet when whatever’s waiting at the top.”
Kieran’s jaw tightens. But he doesn’t argue.
We settle.
Torric and Aspen take one side of the fire, gravitating toward each other the way they always do. Finn sprawls nearby, chaos magic crackling faintly as he finally lets himself relax. Malrik positions himself where he can see everyone — always watching, always steady.
Kieran takes the spot nearest the entrance. Even now, he can’t stop guarding.
And Darian…
Darian hovers.
I can feel him through the bond — that strange thread that’s been humming wrong since the moment he kneeled in beside my bedroll the night he found us.
Found me. He wants to be close. He’s terrified to be close.
He’s caught between the pull and the guilt, and I can feel every inch of his hesitation.
My shadows make the choice for him.
Bob shifts, creating a gap beside me. Not an invitation — more like a command.
Darian freezes. Stares at the space. Stares at me.
“Just lie down,” I mutter, too tired to navigate whatever emotional minefield is happening inside his head. “You’re letting the heat out.”
He lies down.
Stiff as a board. Arms at his sides. Barely breathing.
Like he’s afraid any movement will be the wrong one.
I’m too exhausted to deal with it. The fire is warm. The cave is dry. My muscles ache in ways I didn’t know muscles could ache.
I close my eyes.
The bond hums between us — wrong at the edges, but not threatening. Not anymore.
I fall asleep.
I wake because I’m warm.
Not fire-warm. Not Torric-rune warm.
Body warm.
A slow, steady heat pressed against my spine, radiating through frozen muscles I didn’t realize were still clenched.
It takes me a breath to understand why.
Darian.
At some point during the night, he must have shifted. Or I did. Or both. But now his chest is flush against my back — one long, solid line of heat.
And his arm—
His arm is around my waist.
Just resting there. Fingers grazing the fabric of my shirt like he didn’t dare hold on. Like even in sleep he was trying not to take too much space.
My breath catches.
The bond answers. A low hum deep under my ribs, warmer than it’s ever felt. Not right. Not whole. But quiet.
Mouse lifts his head from where he’s curled against my shins, blinks slow violet eyes at the scene, then settles again — tail flicking in what looks a lot like approval.
Traitor.
I should move. I should pull away. I should—
A small, frustrated sound slips out of me instead.
Too many days.
Too many nights freezing, fighting, running. Too many moments replaying the hot spring in my head — Finn’s hands, Malrik’s mouth, the way they took me apart between them. Too much tension coiled under my skin with nowhere to go.
I’ve been wound tight for days. Aching. Wanting. And now there’s a warm body pressed against mine, and I’m too tired to pretend I don’t feel it.
My hips shift before I can think. Just a little. Just enough to ease pressure.
Except easing anything is a lie.
Darian makes a sound — low, rough, unguarded. His fingers flex on my waist.
I go still.
His breath hitches against the back of my neck. And he’s—
Oh gods.
He’s hard.
It’s not intentional. He’s still asleep. His breathing is slow and uneven in the way people breathe when dreaming. But his hips have molded to mine, and he’s warm everywhere, and I—
I should stop.
I don’t.
I roll my hips back again, slower this time, deliberate in a way that only happens when I’m too tired to lie to myself.
A sharp exhale ghosts over my neck.
The arm around my waist tightens — reflex, not choice.
“Kaia…” Barely a whisper. Barely awake. Broken at the edges.
Something hot coils low in my stomach.
The bond sparks — once, bright enough I almost gasp. Shadows stir around us. Patricia’s notebook flickers like she’s scribbling frantic commentary in her sleep. Bob’s posture shifts, not disapproving — watching.
I should stop.
I push back again instead.
This time, the sound he makes is wrecked. Uncontrolled. Pure instinct.
His hand slides — slow, hesitant — up the line of my stomach, fingers curling as if asking a question he doesn’t dare voice.
His nose brushes the shell of my ear. His breath stutters like it hurts to want.
I bite my lip. Hard.
Months of tension unravel in the space of a heartbeat.
I grind back once more, deliberately, a long drag of pressure that pulls a curse from his throat.
His forehead drops to my shoulder. His grip on my waist tightens. His body shudders against mine.
“Don’t—” he breathes. “I— gods, Kaia, I can’t—”
He’s awake now. Barely. Fighting himself.
I should stop.
“Please…” he whispers, like he’s begging me to stop or begging me not to — he doesn’t even know.
Neither do I.
But I know what I want.