His back vibrates again.
We dash further and further away from the train and everything I brought with me. I’ve never been in this situation, not even close, but there is something so familiar about being this close to Ketill. Like a memory of something that hasn’t happened yet, like I was always meant to find myself on the back of a crazy vampire in the middle of the Scottish countryside.
“I should’ve known when you threw me over your shoulder, you weren’t a normal human.”
“I’m not a normal vampire either. I’m much better.”
“I haven’t met other vampires yet, so by that standard…”
His chuckle is caught by the wind and brushes past my ear.
“Thank you, Ketill, for everything,” I say gently. “I don’t know how I could even begin to repay you.”
“Maybe on your knees?” he quips.
“Idiot,” I whisper, keeping my face buried in his neck.
Lightning streaks across the sky, thunder crashes within the grey clouds like two rams colliding, and there is nowhere else I’d rather be.
Chapter Seven - Ketill
We reach the cabin that’s really more of a shack, soaking wet, with my boots caked in mud. Icicles hang from the tips of our windswept hair, and Thomas shivers on my back as violently as when I pulled him from the lake.
That shifter cunt deserved more than the bloody dent I left in his face. He collapsed just as I jumped, fear suffocating me as bitter winds sliced across my face as I reached for Thomas hurtling towards his death.
We would have more than twenty-eight minutes. And in that moment, I would’ve traded my immortality and every story I’ve ever collected if it meant saving him.
I hope that the tattooed shifter fuck, and all his ugly friends, are dead. But I spent all my luck finding my soulmate in the most unlikely place, and I’ve created a debt of luck by saving him from an icy grave. Fate might love me, but no man is that lucky. So the tattooed fucker is probably still alive and wanting more than just the dragon egg.
Oh well, I can’t complain that I get to kill more shifters.
“A few more minutes, treasure, then you’ll be dry and warm,” I promise Thomas, pushing open the creaking door and stepping inside a musty cabin.
There are no windows or much furniture to speak of—a table with four folding chairs, a small kitchen on the opposite end. But what I care about most is the black log-burning stove, a brass pipe jutting from the top that leads into the ceiling, with logs and newspapers stacked beside it.
“Y-you must be t-tired of carrying me,” Thomas stutters.
“Not for a second.” I’m gentle, but quick, to help a shivering Thomas from my back and in front of the stove. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”
I rid him of the bag holding the egg that’s cooled significantly, placing it down before peeling off his sodden t-shirt and trousers, his socks thrown over my shoulder with asplat.
“It’s very annoying every time I’ve had you naked, it’s to stop you from freezing to death,” I tell him, trying to be light when I feel anything but. “I haven’t even had time to appreciate it. Let’s be wild next time and have you deliciously nude in a comfortable bed.”
“I thought this would be normal for you,” he replies, teeth chattering.
“You will always deserve better.”
I move away to search the small space, climbing up a rickety ladder leading to a windowless loft where I find a single bed tucked to the side, a pile of rolled-up sleeping bags, and a chest of drawers.
The ceiling is low, and I have to crawl over to open the chest, pulling out an armful of moth-bitten blankets and a couple of the well-insulated sleeping bags. Jumping from the loft, I startle Thomas when I land in front of him.
But before he can say anything, I’m wrapping him up tightly, unzipping the sleeping bag and lay it flat on the ground, then manoeuvring him to sit. Next, I work on starting a fire.
The logs smell wild, and the newspaper old, the ink running. But they’re both dry. Grabbing the flint and steel set aside in a tobacco tin, I try to start a fire as quickly as possible, but my damn fingers won’t cooperate, and I curse each time I fail.
Something warm, but not warm enough, wraps around me, something that smells like minerals and a rushing river. My hands drop into my lap, trembling as the thin walls shake, wind whistling through the valleys as the memory of Thomas falling replays over and over again.
I was so close to losing him.
