The woman whose scent was all over his cabin now. Whose laugh made his wolf purr. Whose nervous chattering he'd grown to love because he learned so much about her when she went off like that. Who looked at him like he was worth something, even after he'd admitted to essentially stalking her.
"Need help?"
He jerked upright, banging his head on a low pipe. Jules stood in the doorway, bundled in her coat and boots, cheeks already pink from the cold.
"You should stay inside where it's warm."
"You've been out here for an hour." She held up a thermos. "I brought coffee."
An hour? He'd lost track of time, hiding from her like a teenager. "Thanks."
She stepped inside out of the wind, and suddenly the small shed became impossibly smaller. There was nowhere to go that didn't put them within touching distance. He took the thermos, their fingers brushing, and that simple contact sent heat racing through his blood.
"Can you hold this?" He handed her the wrench, needing to adjust something behind the generator.
She took it, but when he squeezed past her to get to the back panel, his chest pressed against hers. They both froze. Her breath hitched, and he could hear her heart racing. Could smell the sudden spike of arousal that made his wolf claw at his control.
"Sorry," he muttered, but didn't move. Couldn't move. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, the wrench forgotten.
"You're burning up." Her brow furrowed with concern. "I can feel it through your shirt. Are you sick?"
"I run hot. Always have."
Her hands slid higher, cold fingertips grazing his throat where his pulse hammered.
"Jules." Her name was a warning. A prayer.
"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered.
"You should be."
"Why?" She tilted her face up, and they were so close he could feel her breath on his lips. "What are you so terrified of?"
Everything, he thought desperately. You'll run. You'll stay. You'll find out what I am. You'll accept it, but the others won't accept you. You'll be mine, but I won't be strong enough to fight for you.
The generator died with a mechanical wheeze.
They both looked at the machine, then back at each other.
"That's not good," Jules pointed out the obvious.
"Dammit." He'd been hoping to limp the thing along just long enough for the power to come back on. He gave it a good kick, but nothing happened.
"We'll manage." She touched his arm. "We've got firewood. Blankets. We'll be fine."
But he heard the slight tremor in her voice. Saw the way she was already hunching against the cold. His wolf snarled, hating that she was uncomfortable. Hating more that it was his fault for not maintaining the generator better.
They headed back inside, and Lex immediately set to building up the fire while Jules disappeared into her room to "layer up."
"Very fashionable," he said when she emerged wearing a mismatch of clothing, trying to lighten the mood.
She struck a pose. "I call it 'Mountain Freeze Chic.'"
Despite everything, he found himself smiling. This woman...
They spent the morning trying to stay warm. Jules curled up on the couch near the fire with one of his books, wrapped in every blanket they could find. Lex split more wood, bringing in enough to last through the night. But as the hours passed and the temperature continued dropping, he could see her shivering despite the layers.
"Come here," he said finally, sitting on the couch beside her.
