He’d been quiet most of the day, focused, almost mechanical. Winter had a million questions that she wanted to ask, but knew that now wasn’t the time. They were in danger, and all she could think about was why he didn’t seem to want her anymore.
She busied herself the only way she knew how—keeping the fire small and steady, rationing what food they had left, boiling water for tea she didn’t even want to drink. Her stomach twisted with unease every time she glanced out toward the tree line.
When Jace finally finished one last perimeter check, his face was flushed from the cold. He brushed snow from his shoulders and kicked off his boots. “Perimeter’s tight,” he said, his tone clipped. “If anyone comes close, I’ll know.”
Winter bit her lip, almost not wanting to say what she was about to say. “And if they come from the road?”
He paused. “Then they’ll hit the traps that I set out there first.”
Her throat tightened. “Jace?—”
He looked at her then, really looked, and his face softened just a little. “I’m not looking for a fight, Winter. And I’m not going to do something stupid. I’m making sure no one reaches you and the baby. That’s all.”
She nodded, even though it didn’t settle the dread building in her chest. He leaned down, brushed a kiss to her forehead, andwhispered, “It’s just one more night. We’ll make it through this.” But deep down, she didn’t believe him. Something told her this wasn’t just one more night—it was the beginning of whatever came next, and she knew that not asking the question in her heart might be a mistake. It was now or never.
“Why don’t you want me anymore, Jace?” she almost whispered. She sat down on the sofa, feeling as defeated as she probably looked.
He crossed the room to sit down next to her, and she curled up next to him on the couch, her hand resting gently on the curve of her belly. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his eyes full of quiet admiration as she waited him out for an answer.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice low and reverent.
She smiled, her fingers lacing with his. “Even like this?” She ran her free hand over her belly, and she did the same.
“Especially like this,” he whispered. And I know that I’ve been distant, but it’s only because I want to keep my head clear so that I can keep you and our son safe. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want you anymore, Winter. Actually, having you show up on my front porch, pregnant with my baby, has only driven home the fact that I want you more. I’m just not sure that now is the time to talk about all that.”
“If not now, then when?” she challenged.
“You’re right,” he breathed. “So, let’s do this. I want you and God. I hope that you still want me, honey. One night with you wasn’t enough for me.”
Hearing him say that gave her so much hope. “It wasn’t enough for me either,” she admitted. She patted her belly and smiled at him. “And apparently, the universe had other ideas about us only having one night together.” He chuckled and practically pulled her onto his lap.
They leaned into each other, foreheads touching, the silence between them filled with the rhythm of the fire and the soft humof fresh snow that was again falling outside the cabin. His hand moved to her belly, feeling the subtle kick beneath her skin. They laughed together, a shared joy that filled the room with warmth, and she didn’t want the moment to ever end.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, they watched the snow fall, the world outside fading into white. In that moment, the cabin was their universe. They were safe, and for just a few minutes, the Dead Rabbits didn’t even exist.
JACE
He had been alone for so long; finding Winter on his doorstep gave him hope that he wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. Hearing her say that she wanted to go back to Huntsville didn’t surprise him. Maybe it should have, but it didn’t. Huntsville was her home, and he knew that she’d want to go back to the Royal Harlots. But he worried that once he got her back home, he wouldn’t be able to stay with her. With the Dead Rabbits looking for him, he might not be able to ever go back home to Huntsville, AL, or the Royal Bastards, and that thought scared the hell out of him. The last thing he wanted to do was pick up where they had left off and then have to leave her again. It would not just break his heart—it would destroy him.
“Jace,” she whispered, framing his face with her hands.
His breath hitched when she said his name like that—soft and sure, as though having the power to break him open. “You have no idea how hard I’ve been trying not to touch you,” he said, his voice shaking with restraint.
“Then stop trying,” she simply said. As though it was that easy, but it wasn’t. He had spent days now overthinking aboutall the reasons why he shouldn’t touch her, and now, Winter was asking him to toss all those reasons out the window.
The words barely left her mouth before he crushed his lips to hers. It took one heartbeat before his hands were in her hair, his mouth deepening the kiss to claim her with a kind of hunger that came from months of remembering their night together and dreaming that it could turn into so much more. Winter didn’t hesitate. She met him with the same heat, the same desperate need. Every regret and every unspoken word poured into the kiss until neither of them could breathe.
He broke away just long enough to press his forehead to hers. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare.”
The fire cracked behind them, and the world outside ceased to exist. The storm, the danger, and the fear—none of those things mattered anymore. There was only the sound of their breaths tangling together and the slow, unsteady rhythm of trust being rebuilt one touch at a time.
When he finally drew her into his arms, it wasn’t just want that he was giving into—it was surrender. It was a promise that whatever came next, they were done running from it. The cabin seemed to hold its breath around them, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt alone.
Jace’s hand slid along her jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek as if he were memorizing her face. Winter’s breath trembled against his skin, her pulse a rapid flutter he could feel through his fingertips. He didn’t speak, not at first. Words would have broken the fragile space between them—the one that had shifted from fear to something fierce and certain.
When he kissed her again, it wasn’t careful. It was a claiming kiss, the kind that came after too long of pretending he didn’t still feel her under his skin. The kind that said he’d found his way home and didn’t plan to leave again. The firelight caught in herhair, gilding her in gold. He brushed a strand behind her ear, his hand lingering at the nape of her neck. She leaned into the touch, and the quiet sound she made undid him completely.
