But for me? I long for him. I crave his alpha body. The desire is stronger than the pain.
Interesting.
But it’s also making it harder to stay down here. Watching Snow play is having its effect on me. My pulse is starting to spike, my slick gathering, and I’m getting nervous someone will smell it. I need to get out before it turns awkward.
So I slip away to my room while they’re caught up in a story about another relative, Gabriel, and his run-ins with the law.
As soon as I’m back in my room, feeling frustrated, I throw myself onto the bed and reach for the dildo.
Yeah. My problem seems to have only one solution lately, and I urgently need to find a way out of this impasse.
???
Only two evenings later, I get another chance.
I’m staring absentmindedly out the window when I spot Snow walking across the lawn, heading toward the shore. Onimpulse I jump out, ready to follow him, but once I reach the ground, he’s nowhere in sight.
Still, I rush down to the water, not even sure what I would say, only that something inside me is boiling over.
Where is he? Did he vanish completely? Or is he pulling that invisibility trick again?
Then I notice something strange, something glowing, suspended in the air. I freeze.
It’s… an arrow?
A floating arrow, pulsing with shifting colors. A bit neon-like, 3D.
I gape at it, mouth open. The arrow’s glow quickens, pulsing like a heartbeat, almost urging me forward. It’s pointing straight toward the water.
Diving in doesn’t tempt me, but I feel pulled in that direction all the same. Could I… maybe fly?
Even with all the holes in my memory, I know one thing: I can press air beneath my feet, compressing it into a gust strong enough to lift my weight. That’s how I jumped off the balcony earlier.
I give it a try. The pressure wobbles beneath me, swaying me from side to side. It feels like there must be a better way, but this will have to do for now. Rocking unsteadily, I drift forward, following the arrow.
To my shock, another arrow appears farther ahead, floating above the lake’s surface, about a third of the way across. Of course it’s him. Snow definitely has a sense of humor. Each arrow pulses with a friendly pastel light.
I skim over the water, scattering droplets with every yard flowing below me. Another arrow appears closer to the opposite shore, glowing softly in shades of pink and violet.
Is it because I am getting closer to him?
When I finally reach the far bank, I see something new: a river of light flowing across the ground.
Streams of turquoise, sapphire, and bright blue weave into a glowing path, while familiar motes—those luminous butterflies I saw before—float above, bathing the forest in a dreamlike glow. The whole thing looks like a fairytale setting, and I can’t imagine how much energy it takes to create something this breathtaking.
I follow the shimmering current deeper into the woods, mouth hanging open, the twilight around me only adding to the enchantment. My pulse races with a strange mix of wonder and anticipation.
At last I reach a clearing. It glows with what feels like a billion tiny butterflies, their trails painting multicolored spirals across the air.
And there he is.
Snow stands in the center, no longer hiding. Barefoot, he wears only black Viking-style pants edged with delicate Nordic patterns, his upper body bare.
His tattoos burn with a soft light, casting a glow around him. His white hair falls loose, framing his face and brushing against his collarbones. He tilts his head slightly, silent, then slowly extends his hand toward me, just like before.
I stare at it like it’s covered in thorns.
"I’m scared," I choke out. "Touching you changed me before. I became someone else."
