“Well, excuse me,” I huff. “Next time I’ll make sure to demand I’m born as something other than a lowly human.”
His cheeks puff out as he tries to contain the laughter that spills between us. The guilt in my chest eases, just enough for me to breathe again.
“I want to walk,” I murmur, surprising even myself. “Not far, just through the woods with you.”
His eyes glow softly. “Now?”
I nod, shifting to sit up. “Please? I want to explore the woods for a while, breathe some fresh air.”
He studies me for a long moment. Then sits up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Give me five minutes to pack some things for you. Put on something warm and grab your coat.”
A slight smirk plays at the corner of my lips.
I expected him to grab some water; instead, he’s moving around the cabin with quiet purpose, checking things off some invisible list in his head.
It looks like he’s packing for the snowpocalypse.
He stops in front of me with a thick fur-lined wrap draped over his arm.“You’ll need this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady as he loops it over my shoulders. His fingers brush my collarbone as he fastens the clasp, and it sends a spark of heat rippling through me. “The wind past the tree-line cuts deeper than it does here.”
I raise a brow.
“You do realize I wanted to frolic through the woods a little bit, not discover an entirely new piece of land, right?”
He doesn’t smile, but his gaze softens. “This forest may be beautiful, Lumi, but it’s not used to soft things... neither of us are.” His gaze drops to my lips. “That's why I have to keep you warm. Because things like you don’t last long out there... unless they belong to something colder.”
He pulls away, crouching near the hearth, tucking a bundle of small vials into a pouch—herbs, salves, something that resembles silver licorice.
“What is all that for?” I ask.
“Just in case,” he says, standing as he adds several flasks of water and a handful of small, dense-looking bars wrapped in leaf-pressed paper to his pack. “The cold drains humans faster than they realize. You’ll need this for strength.”
I blink at him.
“You packed me snacks?” A whole different kind of warmth spreads through me. I can’t think of a single person who ever cared about my needs.
A genuine smile, warming his usually intense features, spreads across his face. “It’s not a snack. It’s survival.”
I can’t help but chuckle.
“I love how dramatic you are.”
“I’m not dramatic,” he retorts, nudging the door open with his shoulder, the repurposed frame groaning slightly. “I’m Rhavari.”
“Ohh, that was smooth. Like James Bond, 007 smooth,” I tease as I step outside. “All you’re missing is a sporty little Aston Martin to whisk you away.”
He shoots me an unamused glance, but I know better. I’m wearing him down.
The cold hits, but it’s softer than I expected. The chill is actually a little refreshing, after being cooped up in the cabin lately.
My boots crunch against fresh snow as I step down from the cabin porch. It’s so serene out here... so different from the city.
The sky looks ethereal, swirls of pink and purple light the morning. Big, fluffy clouds drift past snowcapped trees swaying in the gentle breeze. “I don’t remember the last time things felt this peaceful,” I whisper.
I glance back to check on him. He’s casting some kind of ward over the door, blue light flickering around the frame. That‘s when my gaze catches on the windows. Every single one of them is boarded from the outside. Not sloppily either. The boards are thick and dark, nailed into place with obsessive precision.
I press my palms against one, but it doesn’t budge.
“Andrik?” My voice comes out uncertain.
