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“You want me to light the fire or are you coming to sleep in here?” he asks when I just stand there like an idiot staring at him.

“Right,” I tell him, turning around to walk back downstairs.

“Where did your mind just go?” he asks, making me stop and look back at him.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says, giving me a strange look.

“You can always sleep in here with me,” he says, but I shake my head walking down the stairs.

“It’s freezing in here, you’re not sleeping in here,” he growls, grabbing my hand and pulling me back. “Your fucking hands are freezing,” he says when I pull my hand from his grip.

“Can you just light the damn fire please?” I ask him. He folds his arms across his chest.

“No, sleep in the room.”

“It’s fine when the fire is going, please I don’t want to wake Pluto,” I tell him climbing in the bed.

“No, you’re being stupid, just come upstairs.”

“No,” I say, and he glares at me. I glare back, annoyed. It’s easy for him to light the damn thing, yet he refuses just because I won’t sleep in the room. He mutters something under his breath, then suddenly turns and walks out.

“Wake Pluto then,” he calls back.

“Fucking stupid-ass tree, breaking the wall,” I mutter, wriggling under the blanket and pulling it over my head for warmth. The night drags on, and the cold seeps deeper. Snow soaks the plywood covering the hole, slipping into the room and turning it into a freezer. My teeth chatter, my body shivering uncontrollably. Tossing the blanket off, I get up to wake Pluto or find another room. With the cooks gone, maybe I can crash in one of theirs.

Walking out, I go to the one closest to the kitchen next to the stairs, opening the door I stop, feeling like I was invading someone’s privacy when I notice pictures on the wall and personal items on the dresser. Closing the door, I look to the stairs, debating whether to go climb in bed with him. My teeth are chattering so loudly I can hear it.

I walk up the stairs, giving up and not wanting to wake Pluto though I know he wouldn’t mind if I did. I walk into the room to find the lights are off, and I look at the fireplace burning in the corner, nice and warm. I walk over to it, warming my hands when I hear movement behind me making me look over my shoulder. Silas tosses the blanket back, tapping the bed and I look back at the fire.

“You would be warmer in here with me once you get over your tantrum,” he says, and I roll my eyes, pressing my lips into a line. Turning around, I climb in the bed, and he chucks the covers over me. I press my feet against his bare legs, making him jump from how cold they were.

“Fuckings freezing,” he shrieks, making me smile.

“Should have lit the fire then,” I tell him. He mumbles something, pulling me closer and rolling me and pulling my back against his chest.

“Put your feet between my legs till they warm up,” he says.

“You have no pants on,” I tell him, feeling his rod digging into my back. “How can you even be hard when it’s freezing, shouldn’t you get shrinkage,” I say, moving away only for him to pull me back.

“My cock isn’t cold. Feel free to warm your hands on it,” he chuckles. I press my cold feet against him, and he jumps, then opens his legs. I shove my feet between them, letting the warmth sink in.

“See? Isn’t this better than the cold room downstairs?” he asks. I stay silent. It is, though I refuse to admit it. Sparks rush across my skin, adding to the warmth. Once my feet heat up, I wriggle them free and roll onto my back. Silas rubs my belly, then tugs my hip, urging me to face him.

“What Silas?” I ask when he does it again.

“Nothing, I just want you closer,” he says, and I roll facing him.

I try and sleep as his hand rubs the side of my belly that is pressed against his rock-hard abdomen.

“Have you picked any names yet?” he asks. My eyes snap open to find him watching me.

“No and aren’t you planning on taking the baby, so wouldn’t you pick its name,” I tell him. I know it is a petty thing to say, yet his question angers me. His brows furrow, and I can feel his confusion through the bond.

“You still think I would take our son from you?” he asks.

“You think it’s a boy?” I ask.