My arms ache without her.
She shifts, murmuring in her sleep. Her body protests the absence of my warmth, instinct pulling her toward where I kneel beside her. My hands clench, resisting the urge to reach for her. I force myself to step back and wait.
At length, she stirs, eyes fluttering as she blinks them open. Her arms shake with the effort of pushing her exhausted bodyupright. She blinks, her gaze unfocused as she takes in her surroundings. Her breath catches as the cavern comes into view—the towering walls, the crystals, the steam curling lazily from the pool, the strange glow of the water reflecting against the stone.
Then, she sees me.
I feel the exact moment her eyes find me in the shadows, her gaze locking onto my form where I stand at the far edge of the pool.
She freezes.
I do not move but study every flicker that crosses her face, searching for a reaction. Her pulse kicks up, her breaths come faster. But it is not fear that stiffens her limbs—it is something else. Something hungrier.
She looks at me like she does not know what to make of me. Like she does not know whether to run.
Or come closer.
Her gaze drags over me, tracing the breadth of my shoulders, the lines of my chest, the heat of my skin where my fur thins. Her breath catches as she sees what was hidden before—what I am beneath the beast. Her scent changes—desire threading through the fading chill of fear.
Then—she moves. A step forward, as if it is unconscious yet inevitable.
I can’t help but meet her as she crosses the space between us. Drawn forward not by logic, but by something deeper. A driving force older than even this mountain.
She stops just within arm’s reach, so the heat of her breath fans against my skin. She does not flinch. She does not look away.
I do not break her trance. I let her look though I ache for her to not just touch me, but to see me. See who I am despite the differences between us. I need her to open herself to thepossibilities of two souls meeting despite their physical forms. Of the forces that can transcend the flesh.
She moves slowly, hesitantly, eyes flicking to the steam curling from the water, the glow of the cave reflecting against my skin. Curiosity lights her eyes beyond the exhaustion rather than the fear I was worried about.
I should have known better. My fierce Winter Star is too brave to be afraid, even if, by all reasoning, she should be.
I cover my nervousness as I wait for her to pass judgment by dipping my hand in the water and smoothing back my hair. For the first time in centuries, I feel vulnerable. Even a little exposed.
As her eyes follow the reflections dancing over my body, down the muscles honed over so many years even I have lost count, her hand lifts—hesitant, drawn by something she doesn’t yet understand. Her fingers hover, unsure and I count the beats of my heart, until finally,finally, her touch brands my skin.
Light as the brush of a moth’s wing, yet searing as a lightning strike leaving electricity crackle in its wake. Her fingertips graze the ridges of my abdomen, heat meeting heat.
I tense, every muscle locking beneath her touch as she traces a slow, reverent path over my flesh. Centuries of resolve hold me in place by the merest thread. But only barely. I grit my teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack under the strain. Blessed mother moon, how I want to sweep her into my arms and lay claim to her right here, right now. But I vowed to wait until she made her choice, so I will abide.
“The abdominal snowman,” she mutters, her voice barely a breath, a flicker of amusement cutting through her shock.
A strange sound rumbles in my chest—half growl, half laugh. I can’t recall the last time I laughed. The noise sounds strange to my ears, but the feeling, the joy that bubbles up to my heart is a welcome stranger.
She startles, blushing a furious red to match her glorioushair, and jerks her hand back as if burned, embarrassment tightening her features. She drops her gaze, her lips parting as if she might apologize.
I do not let her. Will not. With slow, deliberate intent, I reach out and catch her chin. She stiffens, but I do not force her. Just hold her there. Just enough to make her look. To keep her seeing beyond my skin, so different than hers. To keep her seeing—me.
Her eyes look up to meet mine, those iridescent pools of violet-blue, still heavy with exhaustion but alight with something else. The twin flame to my own.
I study each tiny dot on her face, like the smallest snowflakes left a tiny kiss across her nose and cheeks. I will count them all, commit them to memory like the stars of the night sky. I will trace constellations in them created from our story and add them to the walls of this cave.
My hungry eyes devour every inch of her face, down her tiny upturned nose to the soft, flushed lips above my fingers. She is so small, so different from me. I cannot hold back the desperate need to explore her, to feel the textures of her. It drives me to drag my thumb along her lower lip.
She gasps. Her pupils blow wide, but I know she is not afraid as the scent of her desire reaches for me until my restraint hangs by an ever fraying thread.
I let her see the vow reflected in my eyes. The hunger thrumming through my veins. The thing inside me that declares,mine.
“Where are we?” she whispers. But the words hang between us, a thousand more questions shimmering in the air.
