Despite myself, I laugh.
“If you hadn’t saved me, I’d be dead,” I say.
He turns my face to his. “No. You would never give up. You are a fighter.”
“I don’t know. Iwasgiving up. And now…” I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know what I have left to fight for. I have no one to go home to, and without my research, not only do I have no purpose, I have no chance.”
He grips my chin, tilting my face up until his burning silver gaze pins me in place.
“You haveyouto fight for.”
I look away, uncomfortable with his assertion. He believes in me more than I do. How sad is that?
“I just feel… lost,” I say in a small voice.
“Then let me show you that you are still worth fighting for,” he says. His voice brooks no argument.
“Okay,” I whisper. I’m not sure what he means, but his tone says everything.
Still, he doesn’t move.
“I need your trust. Completely,” he says.
I study his face. This beautiful, fearsome creature that should have me terrified. But I’m not. He’s seen me at my weakest, and he’s still here. Piecing me back together.
“I trust you,” I murmur. And I mean it.
He lowers his large forehead to mine, and we just sit in the moment. I realize this creature has shown me more kindness and compassion than Ben ever did. Tears prick at my eyes at the temporary nature of this relationship. I wish it could last forever.
He carries me again, this time into the tunnels. The firelight fades as we move deeper into the earth. The cave turns pitch black.
He sets me down in the absolute silence where the darkness pulses like a living, breathing thing.
My heartbeat fills the vacuum. I want to ask what we’re doing, but a single finger brushes my lips.Shhh.
Then his disembodied voice echoes, as if the mountain itself is speaking. “I’m going to show you. Make you remember your worth.”
The silence that follows is crushing. The darkness is suffocating. My skin prickles with phantom cold, and suddenly, I’m back beneath the snow.
My chest tightens. I try to regulate my ragged breathing, but my brain whispersyou’re going to die, alone, in the dark.
Just as panic threatens to consume me, I feel it.
Velvet fingertips. Brushing my skin. Light, slow, deliberate.
They trace my outline, pulling me into the present. I focus on the feeling—warm hands skating over my arms, my face, my curves. Drawing me back into my own body.
I’m not buried. I’m here.
His hand cups my face, then traces the shape of my lips. I remember how the sunlight reflects off my hair. My eyes twinkle with mischief. My face is so expressive that no, I can’t hide my annoyance, but neither can I hide my joy, and that’s a gift to share with the world.
Then his hand clamps down over my mouth and nose.
I freeze.
The other trails lower—down my breasts, over my belly, between my legs.
Panic spikes. I buck instinctively, heart racing.Air.I need air.
