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“Wouldn’t want to ruin your palatial estate,” she muttered, looking around the simplistic cabin. She took in all the tiny details she missed while awake. Though sparsely furnished, she had to admit it was fairly comfortable.
The bed was of high quality, and the bed frame looked hand-carved, as did everything else in his home. She scoffed internally. She might as well be comfortable if she was going to spend most of her time asleep in this man’s presence. A few herbs were drying above the fire. Skishoes and woven wicker snow shoes hung on the wall near the front door to the left of the fireplace, the accompanying poles crossing in the center. A thin rug splayed out across the center of the room. It had a few burn holes near the edge where sparks had landed. The fabric was stretched out and lumpy, unraveling in certain areas. It almost reminded her of her home growing up.
Her eyes then traveled back to the enigma of a man in the center of the cabin. The stranger’s mouth quirked into a crooked smile. She saw a dimple on his left cheek, even underneath the thick beard. She blinked and was back in a dingy Paris apartment filled with dawn's soft, dappled light. The smell of freshly baked bread filtered through the open windows, as did the shouting of the vendors opening their shops and cafes. Sheets tangled in their limbs, and a large hand rested on the dip of her waist. They smelled of sex, and she languished in the strong curve of the body enveloping her before she fell asleep with the sunrise.
Adeline shook her head, pushing the flood of memories away. She walked to where her leather boots rested by the wardrobe. They shone from his care to clean them while she slept. Adeline’s clothing had all been washed and then folded in the wardrobe with militaristic precision. Her hands caressed the clean wool and the creases in the fabric. What kind of a person would clean a vampire’s clothing?
“Thank you for… your hospitality,” she said, surprised at how genuine her gratitude sounded. The anger in her chest grew smaller as she looked over her shoulder at the man more intently. What a curious person he was - feeding her contaminated blood, polishing her boots, and cleaning her clothing while she slept.
“It’s not in my nature to deny anyone, no matter their story, a safe place to rest to the best of my ability.” The chair squeaked as he shifted to give her privacy to dress. “But I couldn’t let a ravenous vampire into my home without taking certain precautions. I didn’t want to have to tie you up, either.”
She nodded, facing back to the wardrobe. If that were the closest she would get to an apology, she’d take it. Tugging the riding pants up her thighs, the wool chafed her skin. She would need a good supply of blood, and soon, if she was to make it down the mountain. As she buttoned up her trousers, her hands stalled as she tried to unravel how many days she had lost trapped in the cabin with this woodsman.
“Two nights, three days,” he said over his shoulder. “And the snow hasn’t let up yet. We’re under about five feet of snow already.”
It was almost as if he could—
“And, no, I can’t read your mind, but I figured you’d want to know, seeing as you probably have an entire entourage concerned about your whereabouts.”
She tried her hardest not to balk at the man. If he didn’t read minds, then he could read her body as if it had its own language. The thought of her coven - or even her maker - being concerned made her scoff internally. They were used to not hearing from her for weeks or months, but this time around, yes, they would be looking.
There was more to him than he let on, and she still didn’t even know his name. If she offered up a little morsel more, would he bite?
“Thank you,” Adeline said, reaching for her blouse. She threaded her arms through and added, “They’re quite used to me being gone. I would be surprised if they came searching at all.”
“Is that so?” He asked, his back still turned toward her. She couldn’t see his face, but something in the way he asked, the tiny inflection at the end of his question, implied he was nervous.
“Mm,” she hummed. Her fingers buttoned up her collar, fingering the lace at her neck. It was crisp, as if he had cleaned it, too. Countless questions gnawed away at her resolve, and she found the words leaving her lips before she knew it. “If you are so afraid of what I am, why go to the trouble to clean my clothes?”
That earned her a chuckle from the man. And what a sound. Rich and deep, like melted chocolate. The sound washed over the room and knocked into her chest. She rocked backward on her heels from the shock, and her mouth dropped open. She hadn’t said anything amusing.
And still…
She wanted to hear it again. When was the last time she had heard someone laugh like that?
It couldn’t be,she thought.
She hadn’t seen him in over a hundred years. Not since… not since the Revolution. The Paris apartment. When she woke, he was gone. She took a few steps forward, fingering her shirt cuffs, and leaned forward. The closer she got to him, the more her pulse quickened. She inhaled his scent again. It was muskier now but still hidden beneath layers of fresh-cut pine and woodsmoke.
But it was there - oud and tobacco, worn leather, and parchment. It was a combination she would never forget, planted in the furthest cavity of her cold, dead heart. Adeline didn’t want to be reminded of the time she had genuinely thought she could leave her past behind. Naivety let her believe she could turn over a new leaf and live among mortals with her mate if her willpower had been strong enough.
Who was she kidding? Her coven was never going to let her go.
But, Colin.
Colin.
His scent was locked so deep within the sealed-off parts of her soul that even thinking of his name made her hands tremble. How could she ever forget such a scent? Over the last century, she had tried.
Could it be?
She watched her hand touch the stranger on his shoulder, unable to stop herself. Before she could get the words out of her mouth, he had her pinned against the wall by her neck. Her hands grappled at his large wrists, but something kept her from fighting back. Because, though she should have been scared, his astonishing deftness did the opposite. As did his show of strength. Excitement swirled in her gut at the thought of this man taking control. Her feet weren’t touching the ground, but he held her aloft as if she were as light as a feather.
His face was mere inches from hers. He growled, “What’re you doing, vampire?”
“I—,” she choked out, and his hand relaxed slightly. Though weaker, she knew she could get free if she wanted to. She also knew that he would most likely dismember her before she had the chance to do any actual harm. His eyes pierced her soul, but she had to know. She took a risk, watching his face closely for any signs, and asked in a husky whisper, “Colin?”
A flicker of a shadow crossed his face, so subtle, so fast that she could have dreamt it. But then his forearm twitched.
