The forest swallowed them, its branches heavy with snow that sagged toward the ground. The air was sharp in Seraphina’s lungs, her boots crunching softly over the frozen earth. She tried to keep pace with Lucien, but his stride was relentless, driven by something more than urgency.

Finally, she caught his sleeve. “Lucien, wait—”

He stopped so abruptly she nearly collided with him. His gaze swept the trees around them before he turned to her, his face carved from ice.

“Stopping makes us vulnerable.”

“Then tell me what is happening. Who was that man?”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “His name is Dorian. He was once part of the Council. I was his… partner of sorts. Until I left.”

“And he’s hunting you now?”

His lips curved, but there was no humor in it. “Not just me. You.”

The words landed like stones in her stomach. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty woods, feeling the weight of unseen eyes. “Why me?”

Lucien stepped closer, the faint warmth of him cutting through the cold. “Because you are mine. And in their eyes, that makes you leverage. Or worse—property.”

Her breath caught at the word mine. There was something possessive in his tone, something that sent an involuntary heat through her even as fear gnawed at her edges.

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with unexpected gentleness. “I will not let them touch you.”

The quiet conviction in his voice did nothing to slow her racing heart. She wanted to believe him, but the memory of Dorian’s smile lingered like a shadow she could not shake.

Lucien glanced at the paling sky. “We need shelter before nightfall. The inn is too far. There is an old hunter’s cabin nearby. It will be safer than open ground.”

She followed him without argument, her legs aching from the pace. The light faded quickly, and by the time they reached the cabin, the first stars were winking through the branches overhead.

It was small and weathered, its door leaning slightly on rusted hinges. Lucien pushed it open, the wood groaning in protest. Inside, the air smelled faintly of pine and old smoke. A single cot stood against the far wall, and a cold hearth waited for fire.

Lucien set his pack down and moved to the hearth, coaxing a flame from the kindling with practiced ease. Soon, warmth began to seep into the room.

Seraphina removed her gloves, flexing stiff fingers. “Have you stayed here before?”

“Once. A long time ago. It was… quieter then.”

She sank onto the cot, watching the firelight flicker across his face. Shadows deepened the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the strong set of his mouth. The sight stirred something in her, a pull she had been trying to resist since the moment she met him.

When he straightened, their eyes met. For a moment neither spoke. Then he crossed the room, stopping in front of her.

“You are cold,” he said softly.

She nodded, though the chill had little to do with the weather now.

His fingers brushed her jaw, tracing the curve of her face. “You should rest.”

“Will you?” she asked.

He smiled faintly. “Not while you are here.”

There was something in his tone an unspoken promise that made her chest tighten. She knew she should lie down, turn away, keep her guard. Instead, she reached up and caught his wrist.

The change in his expression was subtle but unmistakable. His eyes darkened, his body stilling as though waiting for her next move.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t want to be afraid tonight.”

The air between them shifted. Slowly, deliberately, Lucien sat beside her on the cot. His hand slid to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. She could feel the steady rhythm of his breath, the faint scent of smoke and something darker, wilder.

When his lips brushed hers, it was almost nothing just the ghost of a kiss but it lit a fire beneath her skin.

She leaned into him, and the kiss deepened. His hand tightened at her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt the strength in him, leashed but ready to break.

The world outside faded. There was only the warmth of his mouth, the slow, deliberate way he touched her, as though learning her by heart.

When they finally broke apart, her pulse was racing. His forehead rested against hers, his voice low. “You do not know what you do to me.”

Her fingers curled into his shirt. “Then show me.