“Will you answer one question? Just one.” Her voice came out louder than she’d intended, echoing from one side of their den to another. “Do you have it?” When he didn’t respond, she forged on. “The virus. Do you have it with you?”
Without acknowledging her, he slid into his sleeping bag, zipped himself up, and turned on his side, away from her.
“You freezing me out?”
“We need to sleep.”
“You don’t get to do that.”
He glanced a question her way.
“You don’t get to decide when I sleep or eat or—”
“Ineed sleep. You do what you want.”
Deflated, she sank back into her own bag, suddenly aware of all the tension in her back, the tightness in her shoulders. She did her best to relax, though every part of her wanted tomove.
Andante,Leontyne, Papa would say. Drove her bananas when she was a kid and needed to run, run, run, but in this place, it had a weird way of working. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she heard the metronome slowing, felt her pulse ease off, the air sailing in and out instead of churning, constricted. By the time she’d settled back into a normal rhythm, she was half-asleep, her body finally catching up with the day’s—and night’s—events.
“I’m sorry, Elias. I get…worked up about things. I didn’t intend to harass you.”
After a few seconds, he grunted, which seemed to be his fallback response to pretty much everything.
It was the last sound she heard before passing out.
Leo knew where she was this time before she opened her eyes. Even before she was fully awake. It wasn’t the cold bedrock beneath her body or the slow drip of water somewhere above that told her. It wasn’t even the soft nap of fur against her cheek, redolent of dog. It was Elias Thorne’s solid body against hers.
She couldn’t even be mad about it, because as promised, his arm was nowhere near her.Shewas the one who’d wrapped herself around him. No doubt in search of heat, because the man put it out like a radiator. Her hand was so tightly pressed to his chest that it pulsed with the light, constant beat of his heart.
Or maybe she just imagined that last bit. You couldn’t really feel a person’s heartbeat through ribs and muscle and flesh, could you? Not to mention coats and sweaters, base layers, and gloves.
She should roll back or something, because sleeping in close—or even overlapped—quarters with a stranger was definitely not a good idea. This particular stranger—accused murderer, spy, and who knew what else—should be especially scary, and yet she’d bet every piece of survival equipment they had that he was as innocent as he claimed. She remembered his expression when he’d told her about keeping his secret. This man wasn’t a murderer. She didn’twanthim to be a murderer. And she knew enough about how Chronos worked by now to feel confident hehadbeen set up to take that fall.
Besides, throwing him off right now would be like losing a heavyweight feather comforter on a lazy Sunday morning…in the dead of winter.
Well, worse than that, because his heat was actually helping to keep her alive at this point.
Ignoring all her embarrassment, along with a few misgivings, she forced her breath to stay slow and even, so as not to give away the truth of what she was doing—even to herself—and scooted forward just the slightest bit, put her face to his back, and inhaled. Good God, he felt good; smelled good, like a toasty—
He groaned, the sound twisting deep and warm in a place she’d rather not acknowledge at a time like this.
She stilled.
When he didn’t budge, she slowly let her breath out through her open mouth and inhaled quietly through her nose. Another slow inhale/exhale and she relaxed her shoulders.
He was out. She should be, too. Forcing her eyes shut, she tried to find sleep—not easy now that her body had felt thatzingof attraction.
“Know you’re awake.” His voice vibrated from his chest.
“Crap.” She stiffened and rolled fully away, bumping the dog, whose comfortable bulk disappeared with a snuffle, leaving the cold to seep in at both the front and back. “I’m sorry. I know I said you shouldn’t—”
“Don’t mind.” He yawned, the sound sending her into a jaw-cracking yawn of her own.
Shivering, she wrapped the sleeping bag tighter around her shoulders and hunkered down—a foot from him.
The air shifted when he rose, his body whispering through the absolute darkness, which finally relented when he lit the oil lamp. Even its tepid glow was blinding after so much nothing.
For a few long moments, he stood, wide back to her, as if waking and gathering himself or gearing up to do something unpleasant. Finally, what felt like ages later, although it was maybe just a minute, he turned to her. “Not used to human company.” The massive shoulders rose and fell almost apologetically. She pictured herself wrapping her arms around them, giving him comfort. “It almost—I don’t know—hurtsto have someone around.” Each slow, considered word struck her with the impact of a tiny dart. Simple, clean, and piercing in the way of deep, personal truths.
