“And if we wake up surrounded by bad guys tomorrow?”
“Not gonna happen.”
She stiffened. “How do you know?”
“While you were heating up dinner, I set my traps.”
She settled back down. “Any chance of Bo stepping in them?”
“She knows better.” He nudged her, as if to remind her that she’d almost stepped in one herself. “We’ve been practicing this shit for ages.”
Sadness welled up at that thought—at a life spent preparing for the worst.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t get maudlin about me again, Leo.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.” He tightened his arm and kissed her head. “’Cause I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now.”
Chapter 35
Elias couldn’t sleep, despite his exhaustion and the relative safety of their surroundings. It wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of holding Leo in his arms, it was the fear of losing her. What if this was it? This one night, his only chance at being with her.
He couldn’t relax, couldn’t lay his mind to rest. If this was it, he wanted to be awake for every single second.
So, rather than fight wakefulness, he embraced it and let himself be. With her, let her smell comfort and stir him, let her low, cute snore reassure him, let the feel of her body restore him.
He must have fallen asleep for a while, because maybe half an hour before sunrise, he came to and found her awake.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough and groggy.
She nodded.
“Sleep any?”
“Yeah. Really well, actually.”
A predawn light shone through the room’s single window, glowing blueish. “Want to see something?” he asked, though really, they should try to sleep a bit more.
“You know it.”
Fuck, he loved her. And not in the sweet, comfortable way he’d loved Karen, but so deeply, the feeling so raw and harsh and new it hurt. He didn’t love her with his heart, he loved her with his skin and bones and guts. Or maybe his heart, but not one of those pretty ones that people drew with their fingers in the air. No, his love was coarse and earthy and real, pumped full of blood and its own electric current.
“Come on,” he said, as gruff and unpolished as the yeti she’d called him. “Boot up.”
Without a word, they dressed. He grabbed his rifle and led the way out the door and up a set of rickety wooden stairs. Around the corner, through a wooden structure, out the door, and up more steps, then more. The river rushed alongside them, washing ice and snow and debris from the top of the mountain to the lake, accelerating breakup.
His lungs puffed faster as they rose to the top of the peak. Though subtle, there was a change in the air after yesterday’s storm. It didn’t smell like winter anymore. It was full of rotting grass, fermented berries, and decomposing remains, newly unearthed and cloying. Death giving way to the fresh flush of life. Seedlings and buds popping out with their own sharp perfumes. Sulfur from the springs wafted on the air, weighted by what smelled like mushrooms but was actually mud, thawing after months beneath the snow. It wasn’t good or bad as far as scents went. It was just…Alaska. Just life.
Bo trotted up beside him and stopped, one paw raised, ears pricked. Out of habit, he stopped with her, chuffing out a lungful of air when Leo bumped into him. She put her arms around him to steady herself, silent and no doubt ready to roll in case of trouble. He pressed his hand to hers and squeezed once, not as a sign of intrusion but of affection. He turned and smiled and held back the desire to pick her up just to hold her. “Almost there,” he whispered, his eyes scanning the east for that first glow. “Better hurry.”
Faster now, he climbed, the half-rotted, creaking steps warning him to tread carefully. About twenty yards from the top, the sun pierced through and he knew it would be worth the extra trip.
At the top, he waited, grabbed Leo’s hand, and held her still. “Close your eyes.”
