“Wait here,” he orders before closing the car door on my question of where we are.
Instead, I sigh, folding my arms on my chest and gazing out the windshield, staring into the blackened woodland.
The trunk door opens, the wisp of the night air breezing around my neck, causing me to pull the collar of my hoodie closer to my ears.
Saint’s phone is still connected to the speakers as the car runs, and I turn the music up just a touch whilst he clatters around in the back.
My finger hovers over his screen, tapping it to change the song. A familiar piano harmonic waves through the car, and butterflies erupt in my chest. “Cliché - sad version”by mgk dragsme back into nostalgia. The nights spent locked in my room when this was released, adding to my ‘in my feelings’ playlist.
Some days would just hit harder than others, and I’d allow myself to get consumed by the emotions, because every other day was spent avoiding them.
It reminded me that I’m human, and that I had a love so strong once in my life, it felt like it would last until my dying days.
The door jerks open next to me, my head turning to face him blanked in the shadows with his dark kit on. The moonlight hits off the side of his face, displaying every sharp and hardened edge.
It ruptures thunder behind my ribcage.
He looks so utterly terrifying, so much so that every single one of my darkest demons runs away at the sight of him.
His hand stretches for me to take it.
“We’re not going hiking, are we?” My voice is tinged with the residuals of emotion, the lyrics still seeping into my bones and adding a chill the breeze has no match for.
His eyebrow hikes up. Impatience is etched into his clipped answer. “No.”
If I don’t move on my own accord, he’ll manhandle me out.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I slip out and step onto the dimly lit gravel. Saint’s hands cover my eyes, despite there already being a lack of light, and he gently tugs my back flush with his front, and his voice whispers in my ear, “Do you trust me?”
A shiver dances down my spine.
There’s a million underlying questions laced in with those four words, a thousand scenarios it could lead to with my response.
And my answer will, undeniably, always be the same.
“Yes.”
He guides me forward, the dirt and branches crunching beneath our feet, and my pulse roars in my ears, every single nerve ending on fire.
We’re high up, that I can tell. The number of verges I caught on the drive up here, along with the altitude increasing with the long drive, tells me we’ve ventured to one of the nearby peaks.
“Saint,” I breathe, my hands wrapping around each of his forearms.
Despite the chill in the air, the man radiates an unnatural heat within him; it shields me from the nip of the elements as he keeps me close.
My legs get shaky, thinking maybe I’ve caused his firm too many issues, and he’s decided it’s best to launch me off the edge.
That is until he guides us backwards, his back pressing against a hard surface as he holds us still. His thumbs glide softly against my temples, the movement easing the drumming of my heart rate, then he releases his handmade blindfold, wrapping his arms possessively around my chest.
“Open them,” he whispers, his breath tickling my neck as he places the most tender kiss on my skin, and my eyes slowly flutter as they adjust to the view before me.
I’m breathless at the surrealness surrounding me. “Oh my God.”
My gaze strolls along the edge of the peak, flickers of the faraway town’s lights hundreds of feet below, engulfed in a ragged circle of darkness, swallowed by the dominating woodland of Kingstone’s natural habitat.
And when I glance up, my heart skips a number of vital beats.
The small town has a halo of light from the life within it, the entire sky almost as black as the woodland, but the twinkling stars sculpt the treeline into a silhouette.
