Chapter 8

The fire had burned down to a bed of glowing embers, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic heat that mirrored the thumping in my chest. I sat curled on the velvet chaise, a cashmere throw draped over my legs, watching the way the light caught the stubble on his jaw. We had spent the day in the hot springs, steam rising around us like a curtain of isolation, but now that we were back in the lodge, the reality of the world beyond these snow-dusted windows was creeping in. The air felt thinner here, charged with the static of what was to come. He stood by the large window, silhouetted against the twilight, looking out at the pines. He turned when he heard me shift, his eyes dark and heavy, finding me instantly. That look. It was always that look. A silent acknowledgment that we were creatures apart, hidden away from the mundane, until the alarm clock forced us back into our skins. "Time to pack, baby girl," he said, his voice a low rumble that I felt in my hips. I nodded, standing up and letting the throw slide to the floor. My body ached, a pleasant, deep-seated soreness from