Or maybe it’s growling.
Or maybe…it’s a voice.
“Is someone out there talking?” She sits upright, staring a hole through the plane to where those bodies were laid to rest.
He frowns. “Can’t be.”
It isn’t words she hears, but an unintelligible grumble. She’s about to suggest they go double-check just in case someone actually survived and all those pulse checks were false negatives, but another sound erupts in the distance. There’s no question that it’s coming from the wolves they saw earlier. Nora holds herbreath in her lungs when the next howl makes them both jump. It’s nothing compared to the fight that erupts between the pack of wolves when they discover what’s left of the crash victims.
They don’t speak a word. They don’t make a move. She slams her eyes closed and tries to ignore every wimper and growl, every snarl that breaks out into a battle.
The sounds are vivid in the dark, like they’re echoing through her skull instead of the snowy landscape. She can picture the twisted limbs and blood frozen in patterns across the snow like a canvas.
Somewhere near the battered hull of their shelter, something thumps. It’s a heavy sound close enough that the metal creaks in protest. She wonders if wolves can smell fear through aluminum. Wonders if the scent of her dread is stronger than the death outside.
Each time the wind shifts, it carries something new. A crunch. A yelp. Another sickening tear. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, tasting the copper flood her mouth, feeling each second stretch again and again until she’s certain it’ll never end.
By the time the wolves leave, she’s got her face buried in Theo’s shoulder and doesn’t have a clue how it happened, but if he’s bothered, she’d never know. He’s stoic and silent, letting her lean on him while nature runs its course outside. There’s no trace of his earlier hesitation at being touched, and she files that information away for later, assuming it must have been the suddenness of her movements before that spooked him.
His arm finds its way around her at some point. She doesn’t remember when it moved, only that the warmth of him is the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Her fingers are stiff, curled tight in the hem of his sleeve, but he doesn’t flinch or pull away.
Outside, the silence settles again, but it’s not peaceful. It’s the kind of quiet that feels suffocating. She doesn’t lift her head. Doesn’t look. The smell lingers long enough to tell her that would be a bad idea.
In the back of her mind, a single thought repeats on a loop.
This is only the second day.
Chapter 4
Theo fucked up. He jerked away from her like she was trying to stab him in the gut when all she wanted was to help. The look she gave him after, like some of this newly sparking trust between them evaporated, still sits heavy in his gut.
It hadn’t been anything big. Just a flinch. A twitch of panic wired into him from too many years of looking over his shoulder, expecting someone to come at him swinging. But it was enough to make her go still and pull back.
His twitchy behavior is screwing them both over. He’s only glad she seems to have cut him some slack and let it go. He still worries that she might be wary of him now, but he’d only have himself to blame for acting like a skittish, defensive deer.
People hurt what’s already hurting. That’s a lesson he learned the hard way a long time ago. Always protect his injuries. Never show weakness. Never trust anyone. His father would drone on and on about how every interaction was a battle just waiting to be won, as if the boardroom and the stock market were gladiator rings. Even the closest people to you could offer the swiftest defeat, he would warn, right before shoving Theo into whatever viper pit he crafted to test his ability to find victory.
That sort of upbringing has made him skittish instead of building armor, but he’s got other shit to worry about right now,like his nearly frost-bitten fingers and the wolves that are bound to come back.
The weight of Nora’s forehead pushed delicately against his shoulder, seeking comfort, is an unexpectedly welcome thing. He doesn’t think she realized what she was doing until it was done. By then, the horror of what they heard was enough to override any need to pull away.
Theo isn’t one to embrace anything close to cuddling, but desperate circumstances call for desperate measures. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that the soft tickle of her hair on his chin and the pressure of her against him wasn’t at least a little bit soothing.
It’s grounding, even. A tether back to something human. Something warm.
They haven’t said much since last night. Not much to say, he supposes. It’s over and done with, and talking about it won’t change the facts.
He puffs softly against his fingers, sighing in defeat when even his own breath doesn’t feel warm anymore.
“I think I ran outta heat,” he says, with a shiver. “I’m blowing cold air now.”
“Let me try.” She doesn’t reach for him again, but offers her bare hand after removing her own gloves. “Please. Let me help you.”
Being miserable is enough of a shove, and the small furrow in her brows, coupled with a sad frown, makes it difficult to leave her hanging. So, he gives her his shaky hands covered in pink, cracked skin, and she takes them carefully into her own, cupping his palms to blow a stream of warm air from deep in her lungs. It’s so hot it almost hurts.
“I still have some left,” she half-whispers. “I’ll share. Don’t go get any ideas, okay?”
He doesn’t understand the last part until she slowly unzips her parka a few inches, angles her body to face him, and tucks his hands above her breasts where her collarbone rests.
