For a long time, we just sat there, the fire burning low, our shadows inching closer across the floor. And when I finally lay back down, I didn’t feel quite so cold anymore.
At some point, the fire had burned down to embers. The room was mostly dark now, shadows breathing against the walls, the kind of silence that hums in your bones.
I woke shivering. The blanket had slipped halfway down, the air sharp and biting at every bit of exposed skin. For a few seconds I lay there, trying to burrow deeper into the mattress, but it didn’t help. The cold was everywhere.
Across the room, I could just make out the outline of him —Silas — sitting in the armchair, elbows on his knees, the faint glow of the dying fire sketching his profile in gold. I thought he might’ve been asleep until he shifted slightly, his head turning toward me.
“You’re awake,” I whispered.
“So are you,” he murmured back, voice low, rough with sleep.
I hesitated, my heart beating a little too fast for no good reason. The air between us felt strange — thick, alive.
“I’m freezing,” I admitted. My voice came out smaller than I meant it to, almost shy. “The fire’s gone down and… this mattress isn’t exactly holding heat.”
He didn’t answer right away. I could feel him thinking, that quiet weight of hesitation that always came before he spoke. Then, softly, “What are you asking, Colette?”
I swallowed, teeth catching on my lower lip. “I’m asking,” I said, barely audible, “if you’ll… come here. Just—” I exhaled a nervous laugh. “Just for warmth.”
Something in the dark shifted — a sigh, maybe, or a surrender. I heard the chair creak, then the soft sound of his steps across the floor.
When the mattress dipped, it was so slight, so careful, that for a heartbeat I almost thought I’d imagined it. Then the heat of him reached me — radiant, steady, undoing every inch of cold between us.
“Better?” he asked, his voice close enough that I could feel the breath of it against my temple.
“Mm.” I nodded, though I wasn’t sure he could see. “You’re really warm.” Without a thought, I nuzzled closer to him and nestled my head beneath his chin.
His low chuckle vibrated through the dark. “You told me that I took the warmth from you earlier. I’m just trying to right my wrongs.”
The sound pulled a small, sleepy smile out of me. “It’s only fair,” I whispered.
I felt him shift slightly, the edge of his arm brushing mine, his breath steady and slow. I didn’t dare move — afraid it would breakthe fragile spell of it. But after a moment, I let my fingers rest just barely against his chest, where his heart beat slow and sure under my fingers.
He didn’t pull away.
And that was enough.
CHAPTER 13
Silas
She was asleep again.
Or close enough to it.
I could tell by the rhythm of her breathing, the faint flutter of it against my collarbone where she’d drifted closer. Every few seconds, she’d sigh, and it would send a soft current through the space between us — warm, then gone, then back again.
It was unbearable.
I’d told myself it was fine, that this — her tucked against me, my arm a careful weight at her waist — was innocent. Necessary, even. The fire had nearly gone out, and she’d been shivering. I was helping. That was all.
But then she’d made that quiet sound, that little sigh of relief when she’d pressed her hand to my chest, and something in mecracked.
Her palm was still there now, light as a feather, right over my heart. The heat of her skin bled through the thin cotton of my shirt. My pulse was steady enough, I hoped. I didn’t dare look.
In the faint glow of the embers, I could see the curve of her jaw, the pink in her hair gone to silver in the low light. She wassoyoung. Alive in ways I’d longforgotten how to be.
She shifted again, nestling closer, the blanket slipping just enough for my hand to brush the soft edge of her sweater. My sweater, technically. The one that hung halfway down her thighs, hiding nothing from my imagination.
