The way she’d pivoted during that final drill, using his own momentum to send him stumbling.The fierce joy that had lit her green eyes in that moment had nearly undone his control entirely.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” Winslet said, her voice carrying easily in the thin air.
Korrak glanced at her, noting the flush across her cheekbones that wasn’t entirely from exertion. “Am I?”
“Yes, I can practically hear the gears turning.” She pulled her parka tighter, but there was nothing defensive in the gesture. “And you get this certain look when you’re processing something. Like your calculating trajectories.”
A smile tugged at his mouth despite himself. “Maybe I am.”
But the truth he was processing was more complex than trajectories. For eighteen years, he’d ruled this territory alone by choice, convinced that solitude and isolation were strength. That having a mate was just another weakness waiting to be exploited. But watching Winslet tonight—seeing her refuse to break under pressure, seeing her adapt and learn and fight—had shattered that belief completely.
She wouldn’t weaken him. She would make him unstoppable.
His fierce mate. His equal.
They reached the cabin’s front door, and Korrak’s hands moved instinctively to guide her inside, the gesture becoming increasingly familiar. The mate bond pulsed between them, growing stronger with every passing hour in her proximity. Every breath she took, every feeling she experienced, registered in his consciousness like a second nervous system and grounded him.
Once inside, Korrak shrugged out of his parka, hanging it on the hook with practiced efficiency. The familiar ritualof shedding layers felt different tonight—charged with an anticipation that made his skin feel too tight.
Winslet’s movements echoed his, but when she pulled off her parka, her sweater pulled tight across her curves from sweat. The simple sight sent heat straight to his core, desire slamming through him with enough force to make his hands clench.
“Training’s not finished,” he said, his voice roughened with want.
She looked at him, her green eyes bright with challenge. “I know. But I think I’ve learned enough for tonight to handle whatever comes next.”
The double meaning in her words wasn’t lost on him. Neither was the way her gaze traveled down his body, taking inventory of the thermal shirt that clung to his chest from sweat.
“We should clean up,” he said, already moving toward his bedroom. “You worked hard tonight.”
She followed him, her footsteps soft on the wooden floor. “So did you. I wasn’t an easy student.”
“No,” he said, pushing open his bedroom door. “You were a perfect student.”
Korrak pulled his thermal shirt over his head in one smooth motion, the fabric releasing the heat that had built up during their session. When he looked up, Winslet was watching him with a burning intensity that caused his polar bear to surge beneath his skin.
She pulled off her sweater next, revealing her perfect breasts. No artifice, no performance—just honest skin and his honest want. She then peeled away her jeans and panties with movements that were purely functional and somehow more erotic than any deliberate seduction.
Standing there in his bedroom, both of them stripped down to nothing, Korrak felt the last of his restraint begin to fray. Thescent of her—jasmine and sweat and arousal—filled his senses until thinking became secondary to wanting.
“You can shower first,” he said, the words coming out strained.
“No, together,” she replied without hesitation. A clear statement of intent.
The mate bond flared between them, bright and demanding.
“Yes, of course,” he said, moving toward her. “Together.”
Korrak’s hand found the small of Winslet’s back, guiding her toward his bathroom with deliberate care. The touch was electric—skin against skin, no barriers between them now except the space they chose to maintain. His polar bear prowled beneath the surface, every instinct screamingmineas he watched her move ahead of him.
The bathroom was utilitarian like the rest of his cabin—clean lines, function over form—but when he turned the shower handle and steam began to rise, the space transformed into something intimate. Something sacred.
Winslet stepped under the spray first, her dark hair immediately slicking against her neck and shoulders. Water cascaded over her curves, and Korrak’s breath caught in his throat. She was perfection—soft where he was hard, graceful where he was powerful. The contrast between them should have been jarring, but instead it felt like completion.
Two halves of one whole.
He followed her under the water, drawn by a force stronger than gravity. The heat enveloped them both, creating a cocoon of steam and sensation that made the harsh Arctic beyond these walls feel like another world entirely.
When she looked up at him, vulnerability shimmered in her green eyes alongside something else—trust. Raw, honest trust that hit him harder than any physical blow ever could. Her lipsparted slightly, and he traced the elegant line of her neck with his gaze, picturing where his mate mark would someday go.
