Page 33 of Zeke
“How safe is the cabin?” she asked.
“Safer than open ground. But not indefinitely.” His hand clenched into a fist. “Ferals will eventually pick up our scent.”
“What are our options?”
“We could try to reach the garrison. But it’s hard travel through hostile territory with your leg still healing.” He glanced at her, expression tight with concern. “Or we hole up here and wait for rescue. I was with two others… if they survived the flood, they’ll send a rescue party.”
If they survived. The words hung between them like a death sentence.
“And how long before ferals find us?”
His jaw tightened. “Hard to say. Could be days. Could be hours. Depends on wind patterns, and how far they range.”
She nodded, processing the grim reality. They were trapped in a race against time, with death stalking them through the forest. But as she watched him move with lethal grace, calculating threats and weighing odds, the tight knot of fear in her stomach began to loosen.
Not because their situation wasn’t dangerous, it definitely was. But because she wasn’t facing it alone. He was a weapon in humanoid form, honed by years of training and combat. Whatever came for them would have to go through him first…
Chapter 8
The cabin door slammed shut behind them, and Michelle’s hands shook as she turned the heavy latch.
The temperature had dropped again even in the small amount of time they’d been outside. Her breath misted in the air as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop herself from trembling.
But the cold wasn’t the worst thing… Someone made these clothes. Someone who was gone now.
The thought sent ice through her veins. She was wearing clothes crafted by hands that might never touch anything again, sleeping in a bed prepared by someone who’d vanished without a trace. Someone who’d fought just as hard to survive, who’d made it this far only to disappear into the forest.
“Fire’s dying,” Zeke said, moving to feed kindling to the flames.
He worked quickly despite the way his own breath clouded the air. The cabin was losing heat fast… whatever warmth they’d built up during the night was bleeding away through gaps in the walls.
Wind slammed against the shutters with sudden violence, rattling the entire structure. The temperature plummeted so fast she felt it like a weight settling over them, pressing the cold deep into her bones.
He straightened from the fire. His yellow eyes swept over her, taking in the way she hugged herself, the violent shaking she couldn’t control.
“You’re in shock,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine.” The words came out sharp and quick.
Another gust hit the cabin, and her teeth started to chatter despite the fire blazing just feet away. The leather tunic that had felt warm minutes ago now seemed as thin as tissue paper.
“Trall.” He moved to check the shutters, testing their seal against the howling wind. “Storm’s hitting harder than I expected. Temperature’s dropping again fast.”
“How fast?” she managed through chattering teeth.
“Fast enough to kill us if we don’t get warm.” His eyes met hers across the small space. “We need to conserve body heat.”
Her face burned at the implication, but she nodded. Survival. That’s all this was. Basic human biology and the need to stay alive.
Yeah, right. Tell yourself another one.
She’d been watching the way firelight painted gold across his skin, cataloging every ridge and valley of muscle. Even now, with death fresh in her mind and cold seeping into her bones, she wanted him with an intensity that stole her breath.
He grabbed the heavy furs from the bed, shaking them out near the fire. “Here. We’ll make a nest by the hearth. It’ll be warmer there.”
They settled into the makeshift cocoon, the thick pelts trapping their body heat. He was close enough that his warmth kissed her skin, but they weren’t quite touching. The space between them hummed with tension, every inch of air charged with need.
“Better?” he asked.
