“Shut up, Yulian.” He’s growing annoyed—I can tell because his lips are pursing, and while I’d love to push him further, I don’t really want to hear about the girl.
The only reason I asked is because of masochistic tendencies, really.
I seem to have those in spades. Fuck me sideways.
“We should huddle together,” I say. “Without fire, we need each other’s body heat to remain alive.”
He pauses for a second, then gives a sharp nod, because, yeah, it’s the most logical thing to do.
That’s not the reason I suggested it, though.
The moment he sits beside me, his body heat slamming with mine, my mouth waters, because his scent is everywhere, and it takes all of my willpower not to sink my teeth into his neck vampire style.
I just want a taste.
Just a tiny bit.
“Come closer. I’m shivering and you feel cold, too.” I inch around so that I’m facing him, ignoring the pain that throbs in my side and that I’m crossing into entirely dangerous territory.
“How much closer?” His voice is lower, slightly husky.
“Just close enough to hug.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on, I’m not gonna kill you. The night chill might, though.” I grab his hand. “It’ll be brutal without this solution, and you know it.”
“I said no.”
His refusal doesn’t hit as hard this time—probably because even he can feel the damn draft sneaking through the branches he jammed across the entrance.
The place is freezing, the floor slick and clammy, and it’s only going to get worse once night really digs its claws in. My skin’s on fire, burning with fever, but the cave remains mercilessly frigid.
“All righty then, let’s both die of hypothermia. I wouldn’t say it was nice knowing you.” I start to scoot back into my position against the wall, my arms clenched around my ribs as if that’ll quell the fire burning beneath the stitches.
A long, exasperated sigh spills from Vaughn as he stands up.
Footsteps crunch in the silence, and I hear the shift of his weight as he lowers himself behind me.
I stiffen.
“Whoa, hold up. What are you?—”
“Shut up. You’re the one who wanted to hug.”
“I didn’t want to hug. I wanted body warmth.”
He says nothing as his legs press against mine that are bent at the knees, then he shifts until his chest is glued to my back.
A zap of electricity jolts through me, similar to but more potent than when he touched my chest earlier at camp.
This time, it burns more than my wound.
It’s suffocating, actually.
I can’t breathe.
Fuck, Ican’tbreathe.
