I blink and look down at my wet shirt. Then, before I can think better of it, I tug it off over my head, revealing my breasts. Mainly to make Locke feel better. My nipples pebble painfully and I wrap my arms around them, trying to warm them up.
“Hey!” Svetlana shouts as she’s pulled off with the shirt. Her voice is weaker than it should be and I’m suddenly worried for her. Carefully, I grab the shirt and bunch it up around her, trying to keep her warm. She doesn’t protest. She barely makes any sound at all.
“Into the sleeping bag,” Cipher orders. “Both of you. Now.”
I do as he says, sliding into the sleeping bag and trying to warm up. Locke follows, zipping it up behind him so we’re both snuggled inside of it.
“Sharing body heat is the only way this is going to work,” Cipher says. “You have both thought about it. Do not be shy now. Wrap around each other as tightly as possible. The sleeping bag will start to warm up shortly.”
I glance at Locke. If my cheeks weren’t already wind burnt, I’d be flushing in embarrassment. Locke, though, seems to understand exactly what’s needed right now. He reaches for me and jerks me against his body, wrapping himself around me completely.
“Tuck your legs between mine,” he orders, his arms enveloping me. “Fuck, you’re so cold. You’re even colder than I am.”
I’m still shivering, my teeth clattering no matter how hard I try to stop them, but when Locke wraps around me, the first dregs of warmth slowly start to filter in.
“Your body is trying to keep your vital organs warm,” Cipher says. “It will sacrifice your limbs first. Once you are in a safer vital zone, there is a cream in the loot crate to cure your frostbite.”
Warmth trickles into my body, slowly spreading. It’s working. Thank fuck, it’s working.
“I thought you couldn’t help us,” I rasp, wrapping myself tighter against Locke.
“I cannot,” he says. “I am just making the match more entertaining for those watching in Luxe. You are a popular player with those who bet on the survival of the players. I found a loop hole that instructs I can break minor rules in order to give a single favored player a boon.” He pauses. “I will not be able to do it again without increased resources.”
“Resources?” I rasp.
“The shards,” he answers. “I need the shards. Now, conserve your energy. Focus on warming up. That is all that matters.”
Cipher falls silent as Locke and I stay wrapped around each other. Slowly, both of us warm up within the sleeping bag, but the feeling in my fingertips and toes doesn’t come back. That must be the frostbite Cipher was talking about.
Locke holds me tenderly against him, and as we warm, I become increasingly aware of our state of undress. I shift against him, nestling deeper into his chest, stealing his warmth as much as possible.
“You know,” Locke says with a weak chuckle, “I didn’t realize it would be like this the first time I got you naked.”
The exasperated chuckle pushes past my lips and spreads along his skin. “The first time? You expecting there to be more than one?”
He leans back just enough to look down at me, his eyes tracing my face. “Yes.”
The confidence in the word is enough to make me stop breathing. The way he’s looking at me, the way his eyes fall to my lips . . .
“Do not forget I am here,” Svetlana declares suddenly. She’s still twisted in my shirt, desperately trying to warm herself up. I crane my head to find her where she throws the fabric off her body and rushes toward the sleeping bag we’re inhabiting. “If you are going to fuck, I need more warning so I can prepare a camera.”
I had indeed forgotten that Svetlana was there once I’d wrapped her in my shirt. Clearly, Locke did the same, because both of us immediately jerk at the sudden interruption and go back to cuddling instead of thinking about what the other’s lips might taste like.
“I’m going to go lower,” Svetlana says as she climbs inside the sleeping bag and moans at the warmth we’ve created. “It’s warmer deep inside and I cannot withstand this cold for much longer.”
“Stay away from my junk,” Locke growls.
Svetlana sniffs. “As if it’s difficult to avoid.”
Locke stiffens. “It’s fucking cold, you six-legged?—”
“I implore you not to finish that sentence,” Svetlana warns as she disappears inside the sleeping bag. “Lest my razor arm slips and cuts something off while I burrow into my familiar’s warmth.” From deeper, her voice muffled by the sleeping bag, she adds, “You are only here to keep her warm. I am here to keep her alive.”
Locke’s mouth clamps shut, but when he tugs me against him again, it’s more comfortable, both of us sinking into the warmth of each other, even as the praying mantis joins us and nestles somewhere inside.
Svetlana is wrong though. If Locke hadn’t been here, neither one of us would be alive. Even Cipher knows that. Or else he never would have started talking to him. He would have never used his name.
It’s impossible to survive the Harrow alone it seems . . .
