But it’s warm. The fire must still be going.
I follow the hallway toward the main room, and that’s when the scents hit me.
All three of them.
Ben’s leather and musk, familiar now, grounding. Elijah’s cedarwood and honey, warm and steady. And Milo’s dark chocolate and amber, rich and inviting, wrapping around me like a physical thing.
My knees actually wobble.
Get it together, Tessa.
I round the corner and find them in the kitchen. Ben’s at the stove, pushing eggs around in a cast iron pan. Elijah’s at the table, hands wrapped around a mug, steam curling up around his face. Milo’s leaning against the counter, and when he sees me, his whole face changes.
“Morning, trouble.” His voice is warm. Knowing. “Sleep okay?”
I don’t know how to answer that. I slept better than I have in months, wrapped in an alpha’s scent in an alpha’s bed while a blizzard raged outside. I slept like I was safe. Like I belonged there.
That terrifies me more than the storm did.
“Fine,” I manage. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten.” Ben glances over his shoulder. His eyes sweep over me—his clothes, his flannel, my bare feet and sleep-mussed hair—and heat flickers in his expression. “Power went out around three. We’ve been keeping the fire going.”
“The storm?”
“Still going.” Elijah nods toward the window. “Worse than last night.”
I move toward the window without thinking. What I see makes my stomach drop.
White. Nothing but white. The snow is piled halfway up the glass, and beyond that there’s just... nothing. No trees, no road, no sky. Just a wall of swirling white that goes on forever.
“How long?” My voice comes out smaller than I want it to.
“Radio says the system stalled over the valley.” Ben slides eggs onto a plate. “Could be a few more days before it clears enough to dig out.”
A few more days.
I’m going to be stuck here for a few more days. With three alphas. In a cabin with no power. While my body slowly loses its mind.
“Hungry?” Milo’s suddenly beside me, close enough that his scent wraps around me. “Ben makes a mean breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast on the woodstove. Very pioneer chic.”
I should step away from him. I should put distance between us and pretend last night didn’t happen. But his scent is wrapping around my brain, making everything soft and fuzzy at the edges, and I can’t seem to make my feet move.
“I should...” I trail off. What should I do? I have no car, no control over anything. “I need to check my phone.”
“Might be dead,” Ben says. “No power to charge it.”
“I know. I just—I need to check.”
I retreat to the bedroom before anyone can stop me. My purse is on the floor by the dresser—one of them must have brought it in last night—and I grab it, digging for my phone with shaking hands.
Dead. Completely dead.
I stare at the black screen like it might magically light up if I will it hard enough. My whole life is in this phone. My calendar, my contacts, my endless to-do lists. Without it, I have no idea what’s happening with the fundraiser. Whether the vendors are panicking. Whether everything I’ve worked for is falling apart while I’m stuck here.
Deep breath. It’s fine. I can’t do anything about the fundraiser from here anyway. The roads are impassable. No one expects me to be reachable in a blizzard.
But I can do something about this feeling in my body. This heat crawling under my skin. This ache that won’t go away.
