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He’s withdrawn, stone-cold and barely looks at me, completely in his head like he is ninety percent of the time. The only time I see him come alive is when we are intimate or I’m challenging him. It’s a part of him I’ve seen so little of, but that’s the part of him I’m falling in love with.

He sits alone at the clear other side of the fire and starts making a new spear. I wish he’d show me more, give me more of the side of him underneath his hard exterior. It makes me question if he truly has feelings for me at all.

Or maybe this is just how he is, and I have to live with it.

I try not to stare as he shifts his attention to getting the fire roaring. We share the squirrel among the three of us, saving a bit for Thomas for when he wakes up.

A cold breeze sweeps right through my backside. I’m not used to sitting alone; Maison was always behind me and would be right now if he were here.

I already miss him.

Micah’s oblivious. He just sits there with his knife, by himself on a log, satisfied with what he’s doing.

“Do you think they will come here and find us?” Jade asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Micah shakes his head. “I don’t know why they would. We have nothing they want, and I doubt any of them will want to face me and chance getting their legs diced up. If they are after the knife, I would love to give it back to them properly.” Unleash his fury, all that pent-up tension bursting at the seams.

The sun sets and evening settles in around us. Jade heads to bed, leaving me and Micah alone. I see no good reason to stay up anymore, so after making eye contact with him, I rise and, without saying a word, I turn my back to him and crawl into bed.

Once inside, I nearly jump to the roof when my hands touch a soft, thick blanket beneath me. I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.

It’s my wolf… my wolf blanket. Micah skinned and made it for me and snuck it in here without me noticing. When he did that is beyond me, but it’s perfect. I run my hands over the thick fur and curl up over it, pulling the airplane blankets on top of me. It’s the most comfortable I’ve been since arriving here.

After a few minutes, Micah finally crawls in beside me. I relax as he wraps his arms around me, his hands finding my waist and belly. I was wondering if he was going to come at all. As close as I thought we were, there is a distance between us, like he doesn’t know how to act around me or if he’s allowed to touch me without my distinct permission.

Or perhaps it’s guilt—as I certainly feel. He probably feels like he just lost his brother.

I turn around and face him. “Are you okay?”

He stiffens slightly at my question. “I’m not like Maison, London. I don’t do pillow talk like he does.”

Ouch. There’s the asshole.

I shake my head and turn away from him. “Fine, we don’t have to talk. I’m tired, anyway.”

After a few minutes, his body relaxes and his lips touch the back of my head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m just not him.”

I turn to face him again, my lips trembling and my heart beating out of its chest. “I know exactly who you are, Micah.”

He lies there for a second as the fire dims the light between us. “Do you regret coming with me?”

I swallow a pit in my throat. “No. But I do miss him.” I feel him tense, but I need to say this. “Nothing about you is simple, Micah. You’re not as easy as he is.”

He rubs his fingers along my hairline, his eyes not leaving mine. “Yeah, I know.”

I grab his face and cup his chin with my hand, his growing stubble tickling my fingers. “But not for one second do I regret coming for you.”

He doesn’t respond; instead, he presses his mouth into mine, parting my lips, gently teasing his tongue inside. I moan and he pulls me closer. After a few minutes of him biting, nibbling, touching me all over, he pulls away and I feel him reach for something.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold on.”

He slips back beside me and sticks something small inside my ear. Music suddenly fills my ears. Music is something you don’t really appreciate until it’s gone. It’s purifying—it fuels me as much as that squirrel. Every note, every lyric, hits my soul. I have no clue how he has battery in his cell, but I’ll call it some sort of miracle. That’s what Micah is capable of—he makes miracles happen. Maison was right about something. Micah is just as good at keeping me warm, and I love feeling him breathe, and I fall asleep to the music with Micah wrapped around me tight.

Chapter Nineteen

I wake up to crying. Agonizing screams that cut right into our shelter, reverberating over the meadow and bouncing off the water. It sounds like Thomas is right in the shelter, with how debilitating it is. Micah and I both shoot up. The sun’s not even up yet, still the darkest part of the night.