Chapter 5

The cold air bit at my cheeks, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body as we pushed through the dense crowd of the Christmas market. The air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts, cinnamon, pine needles, and the sweet, spiced aroma of mulled wine. Twinkling fairy lights strung between the rustic wooden stalls created a canopy of warm gold above us, casting long, dancing shadows on the cobblestones below. But I barely noticed the world around me. My entire universe had narrowed down to the hand gripping the small of my back, a possessive, heavy weight that guided me toward the edge of the festival grounds. He had found us a spot that was secluded enough for privacy but still close enough to the energy of the crowd that we felt a thrill of being discovered. It was a small alcove behind a stall selling hand-carved wooden toys, partially obscured by a curtain of dried ivy and stacked crates. The noise of the market—children laughing, merchants calling out, the clinking of glass mugs—faded into a dull roar, muffled by the sudden, intense silence between us. He turned to face me, his eyes dark and hungry,