I fold it back up neatly before returning upstairs, feeling an unexpected knot of unease tighten in my chest. What if even this fails, and she slips past the point where I can pull her back?
Despite my uncertainty, I continue down the hallway until I reach my bedroom again. I carefully cross the room and switch on the small lamp that’s on the nightstand, adding a soft, golden glow to the space that’s not too blinding.
Alina is still curled up to keep warm, her back facing me.
I frown as I approach the cage door, my stomach sinking at how small she looks.
I take a deep breath before opening the cage and stepping inside.
She glances over her shoulder at me, looking exhausted and miserable. As I approach her with the towel, she shrinks back a little, but I can tell that she’s too weak to quickly scramble away.
I kneel down next to her and drape the warm towel over her naked body, hearing an immediate, involuntary sigh of relief as she huddles beneath it.
It doesn’t feel like enough, though. I originally just planned to give her the towel and see how she reacted, but now that I’m in here… it’s hard to make myself leave.
Before I really think about it, I’m sitting on the floor next to her, making her face draw up in confusion. I don’t know what the hell that I’m doing either, but I’m already down here.
I pick her up and guide her toward me until she’s curled against my chest. I wind my arms around her shoulders and her torso, holding her against me with the towel curled around her.
Alina’s brow furrows, and she tenses like she’s going to try to pull away, but when I don’t say a word or move a muscle, she gradually relaxes in my hold until she goes slack and heavy in my arms. She exhales heavily as she rests her head against me, letting herself melt in my hold.
I could say a lot right now. I could tease her. I could be a cocky asshole.
Silence feels safer than saying the wrong thing and crossing a line I can’t take back.
So, I just hold her, and I finally feel her stop shivering.
Alina gravitates impossibly closer, and I can’t tell if she’s aware of what she’s doing or not. She drops her head against my chest, her fingertips grazing the front of my shirt.
My heartbeat quickens as I gaze down at her, watching her features gradually soften as her eyes flutter shut. She is so exhausted and cold that she doesn’t fight me.
More guilt sours my stomach, making me hold her a degree tighter like it’ll make me feel any better. It doesn’t.
As she presses her face into my chest more, a loose strand of hair tumbles onto her forehead.
I gently brush it away from her face, making her eyes fly open at my touch.
I meet her gaze, waiting for her to lash out and push me away, but she doesn’t move. She just stares.
And I stare back.
I can’t pinpoint the emotions that cross her face, but there are a lot of them. She isn’t sure how to feel, and I’m in the same boat as her.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
I had lines, clear ones. Touching her like this crosses every boundary I’ve drawn.
But if I don’t do something now, she won’t last long enough for any of it to matter.
Alina blinks her green eyes at me slowly, almost like a cat does. She doesn’t jerk away as my fingertips linger on her cheekbone.
My eyes lower to her dry lips, and I have to stop myself from brushing my fingertips along them to feel how chapped they are. So fucking stubborn.
She closes her eyes again, the room remaining dead silent besides our soft breathing. Eventually, hers slows, and her lips lightly part.
She falls asleep in my arms.
I blink in surprise. Not because she passes out. Because that makes me…glad. The fact that holding her feels good unsettles me.
