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I'm sitting on a bed. In nothing but my chemise. And two of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life are standing over me, watching me like I'm the only thing in the room.

My cheeks catch fire.

I clutch the clothes to my chest like a shield. "I'm going to shower and change in there," I announce, pointing at the far door. "In private. Alone."

Without waiting for an answer, I march across the cabin as fast as I can without running, slip into the washroom, and shut the door.

Then I lean back against it and let out a long, shaky breath.

What is happening to me?

I knew a first heat would bring strange feelings. Every girl in the village whispers about it. Cramps and heat and restlessness and wanting.

But nobody ever told me it would be like this.

Nobody told me I'd nearly kiss a man I'd known for an hour. That the brush of another one's fingers would make my knees go weak. That a third one could make my skin burn just by watching me.

I press my cold hands against my hot cheeks and swear, low and creative, under my breath.

Is this what it's like for every woman? Or is mine just extra miserable because I'm trapped in a tiny cabin in a blizzard with three of the sexiest men I've ever laid eyes on?

I don't know.

But I'm starting to think the storm was the easy part of my day.

6

Rhydian

I've learned something today. There is nothing in the world more wonderful than having your mate under the same roof. And there is nothing in the world more torturous.

Her name is Elara. She told us around noon, somewhere between asking how deep the well goes and whether the stove ever smokes, and she said it like she was handing over a secret she wasn't sure we deserved yet. I've been saying it in my head ever since. Elara. Elara. It's a good name. It suits her. It sounds like something you'd want to whisper against someone's neck.

Which is exactly the kind of thought I'm not allowed to have.

We've been taking turns all day. Zarek brings her tea. I bring her food. Kaelen builds up the fire higher, even though she didn't ask for it, and then leaves before she can thank him. In between, she asks questions. So many questions. How old is the cabin? Who built it? What's that mountain called? What's on the other side of it? Why is the garden outside the fence green when everything else is buried in snow?

That last one, I dodged. Something about sheltered ground and warm springs. She narrowed her eyes at me like she knew exactly how full of shit I was. Then she let it go.

She's relaxing. Slowly. She's laughing more. She curled up in the big chair by the fire after lunch and actually dozed for a while, which I'm choosing to take as a compliment. But she still watches us. Every move. Like a cat in a house full of large, suspicious dogs.

Mostly, she watches Zarek.

Gods, I love it.

Zarek says she should rest, and she asks why. Zarek says she should stay by the fire, and she asks if he's planning to tie her to the chair. Zarek suggests she eat something, and she informs him that she's been feeding herself for years and knows when she's hungry, thank you very much, and then eats it anyway, but slowly, like it's her idea.

He has no idea what to do with her.

I've known Zarek for centuries, and I've never seen him so thoroughly flattened by anyone. Kings bow to him. Generals obey him. This woman pats his arm and tells him he worries too much.

It's the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Kaelen, though. Kaelen's been out in the storm three times since breakfast. Fresh air, he says. Every time, he comes back with snow in his hair and his jaw clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grind, and within an hour, he's back out the door again.

Fresh air. Sure.

I know exactly what he's doing. His dragon is clawing at him to go to her. To take her. Claim her. And distance is the only thing standing between him and doing something stupid.