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I look at each of them. Hard.

I'm waiting for the catch. There's always a catch. Some little hook buried in the kindness, waiting to pull tight.

"And you're all fine with that?" I ask slowly. "A stranger staying in your cabin? You don't even know me."

"We would never send anyone out into a storm like this," Zarek says, his gray eyes filled with sincerity.

"And what do I owe you for it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," he says firmly. "You don't owe us anything. When the roads are safe, we'll make sure you get where you're going. That's all."

He says it so plainly. No flowery speeches, no little hook.

Some of the knot in my stomach loosens.

Only some of it, though. Because three complete strangers seem awfully eager to have me stay, and I still don't know why.

I pick my spoon back up and finish the soup, mostly so I have something to do with my hands.

And that's when the heat comes back. It starts low in my belly and spreads outward, slow and warm, until it's in my cheeks and my chest and the tips of my fingers. My pulse speeds up. My skin prickles everywhere.

Oh no.

Not now. Absolutely not now.

I drop my eyes to my bowl and pray they'll think I'm just flushed from the soup. Or embarrassed. Or still thawing out.

The last thing I need is for these men to figure out I'm in heat. I don't know if the traditions here are the same as in my village. What if they are? What if me being in heat makes them think they have a right to claim me for themselves?

I scrape my spoon around the bowl and try to think about anything else. Snow. Turnips. My aunt's old sewing basket.

It doesn't work.

Because I'm sitting in a bed, surrounded by three of the most attractive men I've ever laid eyes on, and my body has very loud opinions about that.

My gaze slides to Zarek before I can stop it. Those broad shoulders. That stern jaw. He sits so still, so completely in control, like nothing could ever rattle him.

Except me. I rattled him. A little. I think.

My eyes move on to Rhydian. His auburn hair is falling in his face, and his golden eyes are bright with mischief, and that crooked smile is entirely unfair.

And then Kaelen. Huge and scarred and silent, with long dark hair, and arms that look like they could crush stone. He looks dangerous. He looks like trouble.

He looks like the kind of trouble I'd like to get into. And then the worst, most ridiculous thought in the world slips into my head. If I had to be trapped somewhere during my first heat with a bunch of men, I couldn't have picked three better ones.

My face goes so hot I'm surprised the soup doesn't start boiling again.

Stop it, I tell myself. Stop it right now.

They're strangers. You're stranded. You almost died last night. There are much more important things to worry about than how good these men look with their sleeves rolled up.

I grab the edge of the blanket and pull it up higher, almost to my chin. I take a sip of water. I fix my eyes very firmly on the fire.

Calm. Composed. Totally normal.