Claus

Twenty-Three

         She focused on the tracks where the snow had begun to tremble. It wasn't her doing though. In the distance the train appeared.

Reaching up, she removed her beanie, not wanting it to get whisked away by the wind.

         Cassian's eyes burned into her neck and hair where more white had appeared overnight. Some part of her liked that there was someone from whom she no longer needed to hide her real hair. She didn't feel the chest-aching need to hide this one visible part of her family that had stamped itself onto her.

         Snow crunched, and Cassian stepped alongside her. "I know it's not ideal."

         She frowned, dropping her gaze to where he held out his arms. It wouldn't be the first time he'd held her. But that was to save her life. Now she had to step into his arms.

         He'd be warm—not that it mattered. She wasn't even cold.

         It's not ideal. He didn't want to be that close to her either.

She braced a hand on his shoulder. He went taut under her palm, and as he looked at her, his nostrils flared. Right, her Elven scent was surely overwhelming him with her being this close. She must be the only one of the pair who found the other's scent somewhat—

         Her thoughts left her as his arm cupped her back, his hand splaying out along her. His pupils dilated, and her stomach tightened. She should step away. This could be the moment Cassian decided to be done with her.

         But she didn't want to. Though her heart beat faster with each thump, she liked it. Liked the way she could feel each finger of his press into a different part of her. And the way he was looking at her . . . the intensity of his eyes . . .

Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to be Cassian's prey.

It was that thought that shook her free of her trance. She almost ripped herself away from him. She shouldn't want to know what it would be like to be hunted by him, to be pinned beneath him.

         Cassian bent down and slid his other arm underneath her legs, his hand gliding over the fabric of her pants. She clamped down on a moan. With no other preamble, he lifted her into his arms, and her hand flew up to grasp his other shoulder.

         Their eyes locked. His heart thudded against her arm. She had to trust him right now. After they were on the train, she could raise her guard again.

         Right now, she needed him. Arlo's plan hinged on Cassian.

         "Faryn—"

         The train blared its horn, and without another word, Cassian had launched them into the air within a few sweeps of his wings. Her grip on him tightened, and his fingers pressed harder into her. She needed to focus, to be ready, for when he would land on the train car. It was then she would have to fight against the wind and ice that would be waiting for them if she wished to make it to the flagged latch that Arlo's mice shifters had left for them.

         As Cassian drew them closer to the train, the wind turned vengeful, and it was immediately apparent Cassian was having difficulty flying against it.

         He pitched forward, angling them toward the train, and he held her tighter.

         A strip of green flag that was tied onto a latch near the middle of the eighth carriage flapped in the wind. The moment the Fata flew over the carriage, the wind barreled into them, sending them tumbling through the air as if they were nothing more than a leaf. His balance knocked away, they twisted in circles. He clutched her as she pressed into him. She squeezed her eyes shut as if that could stop the world from spinning. 

         Cassian hissed, and the world righted for a split second before they were forced farther back from the target like a billowed sail.

The wind seemed determined to prove she held no power of it.

Cassian beat his wings in quick but tired flaps, and his grip began loosening on Faryn. He drew them toward the roof of one of the carriages shimmering with ice. The instant his feet set down on the roof, he fell, and Faryn went flying from his arms.

She slammed into the ice slick roof and slid until she grasped a curved bronze handle. Gasping in a sharp burst of air, she looked up just in time to see Cassian as he slid over the end of the roof.

She screamed, thrusting out her hand. If there were ever a time you were going to work, do it now.

         But the wind did not bend to her will, and the Fata disappeared between the train cars.

I've made a couple of character aesthetic videos on TikTok. Are there any songs that make you think of a specific character?

Claus is now super close to 2,500 reads, so if it hits that before Wednesday, I'll again be posting a preview of the next chapter on my profile!