"Me too." I lean forward, changing the angle, and suddenly, I'm there, falling over the edge with his name on my lips.
He follows seconds later, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, his body arching beneath mine as he finds his release.
I collapse onto his chest, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat despite the cool cabin. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and I feel his heart pounding against my cheek.
"That was…" he starts.
"Yeah." I don't have words either.
We lie there for long minutes, neither of us wanting to move, to break the spell. Eventually, he shifts slightly, and I lift my head to look at him.
"Stay with me tonight," he says. "In your bed."
I nod, and we gather our clothes, moving to my bedroom. We slide under the covers together, and he pulls me against his side, my head on his chest, his arm around my shoulders.
I'm drifting off to sleep when my eyes zero in on the dragon wings tattoo that spreads across his shoulder blades and back, now in the moonlight streaming through the window. Something about them tugs at my memory, a detail I can't quite place.
My chest tightens with a sinking feeling. Something about that tattoo is familiar, but I just can't place it.
6
ALEKSANDR
Iwake to cold sheets and an empty bed. My hand slides across the mattress where Maya should be, finding nothing but the faint impression of her body and the lingering scent of her skin. The absence hits me harder than it should, a hollow feeling in my chest that I don't have words for.
I sit up, wincing as the movement pulls at my healing shoulder. The stitches are holding, but the muscle protests every time I move wrong. Small price to pay for being alive. Small price to pay for last night.
The memory of her body beneath mine, the sounds she made, the way she looked at me like I was something more than a stranger with a blank past, sends heat through me despite the morning chill.
I pull on my thermal pants and shirt, moving quietly through the cabin. She's not in the kitchen. Not in the bathroom. The front door is slightly ajar, and through the gap, I can see her outside in the gray dawn light.
She's attacking the woodpile like it personally offended her.
I watch through the window as she swings the axe with more force than necessary, her movements sharp and aggressive. She's wearing her parka and boots, her blonde hair catching the weak sunlight, and even from here I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she's putting her whole body into each swing.
I grab my own jacket and step outside. The cold hits me immediately, stealing my breath, but I ignore it and cross the snow-covered yard toward her. She doesn't look up, just keeps swinging, the axe biting into wood with satisfying cracks that echo through the trees.
"Maya."
She freezes mid-swing, the axe suspended above her head for a heartbeat before she lowers it slowly. When she turns to face me, her expression is carefully neutral, but I can see the wariness in those dark blue eyes.
"You should be resting," she says, her voice flat. "Your shoulder and head wounds need time to heal."
"They're fine." I move closer, noting how she shifts her weight, putting the axe between us like a barrier. "You left."
"I needed firewood." She gestures at the pile of split logs beside her, evidence of at least an hour's work. "We're running low."
"I just stocked it yesterday. We're good for a couple of days."
She looks away, focusing on the tree line instead of me. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"The truth would be nice." I keep my voice gentle, but there's an edge to it I can't quite suppress. "Last night happened. You can't pretend it didn't."
"I'm not pretending anything." She sets down the axe and crosses her arms over her chest, defensive. "Last night was… it happened. But it doesn't change anything."
"Doesn't it?" I step closer, and she takes a step back. The retreat stings more than my shoulder. "You're afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid of you."