I can't take my eyes off her, afraid if I do, she will slip away from me. It doesn't matter that she ran, I expected she would eventually try. My fear is based in the slow beat of her heart. It is always so strong, like the drums of a battle song. She doesn't know weakness. Not her soul, not that part of her that is tangled so intricately with me. But her body, her soft, curvaceous body, it has its limits.
Even in a realm of immortal beings, some must use caution. They have the potential to live forever, but one bad decision, one accidental movement, and that eternal light is snuffed out. Cordelia's lips were blue, and ice clung to her when I found her in the snow. I thought I was too late.
It has taken longer than I'd like; I'm an impatient male to say the least, but the color returned to her face and her heart returned to its gentle beat.
I would have been lost without her.
Cordelia stirs in my arms. Her lashes flutter against the tops of her cheeks and slowly she looks up at me.
"Welcome back, snow princess," I say, sliding a strand of hair away from her face.
She clings to me, and even though I know it's only because she's just gone through something traumatic, I can't help the warm feeling that jolts through me. This could be the start of her needing me as much as I need her.
"Cane," she whispers, her voice raspy. "It was you. You—you came. Even though I tried to run away from you. You saved me."
I pull her closer and bury my face in her hair. "I didn't mind that you were wandering the house at night or sneaking into my study for books. I couldn't care less, but when you went silent on me...when all signs of life were fading, I had to find you."
"But I have to ask...at the end of the day, didn't you just take me to get under Elias's skin? If I were dead, I think you could say mission accomplished," she says in that cracked, exhausted voice, and I know she's talking so openly and bluntly because she's so drained.
But I may never get this chance again.
"I took you because Elias fucked up. If you would have stayed until morning at Evermore, he wouldn't have given you a chance to process what happened—the deceit, the threat on your life, the fact that you have a bond with both of us. Bringing you here would give you a chance to process alone but in a safe place. I knew you would want nothing to do with me. As far as wanting you dead...I've had plenty of opportunities to take your life if that's what I wanted. Let me assure you that is the furthest thing from my mind."
She says nothing, but the way she looks up at me with those wide, gray eyes and snuggles in closer to me tells me everything I need to know. She believes me. Or at least, she's starting to.
And that's progress.
She's quiet for a long time, and I busy myself by absentmindedly running my fingers through her hair, gently straightening out the tangled strands.
When I look down at her, she's already gazing up at me, and there's some emotion in her eyes I can't quite read. "Cane, I was terrified. And not in the fun way." The smallest of smiles turns up the corners of her plump lips, which have finally returned to their perfect shade of pink.
"I'll find other fun ways to terrify you if you like, but for now, let's get you warmed up some more."
A tiny shriek comes from her as I stand with her in my arms. I expect her to put up a fight, to pound her fists into my shoulder while yelling some choice words. But she remains silent and settles into my embrace as I ascend the stairs. I carry her into my room. Her head cranes as she takes in the large bed and white furniture, realizing where I've brought her.
When we reach my bathroom, I set her down on the counter and turn my attention to the massive bathtub with a view of the snowcapped mountains. I wait until the water is steaming before adding jasmine bath salts and arranging a washcloth and soap on the edge for her.
I turn back to face Cordelia to find her staring at me with a smile on her face.
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late," she says, and her voice is nearly back to normal. "You have no idea what you've done. I am a hoe for a giant bathtub, and I haven't gotten to take a proper bath all summer. I'm tired of boring showers."
I laugh and extend my hand so she can ease off the counter. She takes it and slides down, landing softly on her feet. She looks down at what she's wearing, as if realizing for the first time since she woke up that she's in different clothes than I found her in.
"How did you—"
I shake my head. "I didn't. Ruth came in for her shift and before I sent her home, I asked her to get you out of those clothes. I—" I blow out a breath that rattles my lips. "I didn't want it to seem like I took advantage of the situation, and you needed dry clothes. So, that seemed like a perfect solution."
Her cheeks turn that damn shade of pink again as she peels the fuzzy socks off her feet. "That may be the sweetest thing I've heard in a long time."
"That's me, full of sweet gestures and heroic feats. I'll let you do what you need to do. If you need me, I'll be right outside the door."
"All right," she says, and with one more glance at her, just to make sure she's going to be okay on her own, I leave the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
I lean against the door and truly exhale for what feels like the first time since she opened her eyes. The level of emotion I'm feeling right now has honestly caught me by surprise, and I don't want to read too much into it. Because if I do, I'm liable to spiral into a rabbit hole I can't pull myself out of.
When I hear the water sloshing around in the tub, and I know she's naked...in my bathtub, I have to force myself to focus on literally anything else to avoid getting into a potentially embarrassing situation. Whatever Cordelia and I are, I don't think we are at the comfort level of her seeing me with a massive boner just from the thought of her with her clothes off.
I hear a thunk from inside and before I can rush in like some kind of caveman, I hear a sweet, soft, "Cane? Can you help me?"
Fuck, I hope she's okay. Please be okay.
I open the door and peek my head inside, and what I see is both a relief and a oh, fuck me moment.
The relief is that on the floor is the washcloth I had laid out on the side of the tub, still dry, with the soap I'd placed next to it. She's stretching to get to them, but they're just out of her reach.
But here's the fuck me part: her delicious body is just barely covered by the bubbles I'd added to the water.
"Sorry," she murmurs. "I grabbed it, and my hands were slick with the oil from the bath salts, I guess. It slipped right through my fingers. I didn't want to get out and get water all over your floor."
I clear my throat and step inside. "I've got it," I say, crouching down to gather the items. Setting them in her waiting hand, I fight to keep my eyes on her face. The battle is lost when the suds slide down her chest, revealing the soft swell of her breast. I force my eyes to dart back to her face and ask with what sounds like a frog in my throat, "Do you need anything else?"
"Stay with me?" she asks, and I find no trace of teasing or playfulness in her tone. She's serious.
"Are you sure?"
She nods and says, "I don't want to be alone. I spent all night in the quiet and it was terrifying."
With a nod, I sit on the floor with my back to the tub. I can't watch her bathe. It is too much of a temptation to see all that naked pale skin. It makes my teeth ache with the need to sink into it for a taste. Needing to reel my thoughts in, I say, "I always thought I liked the quiet until I got it. It was so empty and made my thoughts so loud. I didn't hire Ruth and Erik because I needed the help. I hired them for a little bit of noise."
She splashes around a bit before answering. "I understand that. I don't like the quiet. For the exact same reason as you. But I've always felt that way. Something about being by myself has always left me feeling...I don't know...off. Not really sad, per say, but...empty. I don't know how to explain it. That probably says something about me that I'm not sure I want to delve too deeply into. I think part of it is being an only child. I was alone all the time when I was a kid. Some only children thrive in that. Others, like me, always wish they had a sibling around to keep them company. And I guess it's like, in my adult life, I'm trying to make up for lost time that I spent alone. Does that make sense?"
"It does. Is that why you joined Wicked Encounters? Were you looking to spend your summer with a bunch of insufferable supes?"
"No," she says with a laugh. "My mom got the invitation from a sponsor. She has a YouTube channel where her and a bunch of other middle-aged women go ghost hunting." Cordelia pauses for a moment and hums. "You didn't send that invitation to my mom, did you?"
I glance over my shoulder not bothering to hide my disgusted expression. "No. I had it on good authority that Elias would be there."
"Was Jolene that authority?"
I don't even know what to say to that. I haven't told Cordelia about the agreement I made with the dark fairy for my life. Did Jolene lure me there? Yes. Do I think she also used some kind of spell to learn that my brother and I are soul bonded to Cordelia? Perhaps. If she did, she wasn't expecting that bond to snap into place and for her to lose her grip on my soul. The entire summer was a series of coincidental events.
"She was," I finally say.
"God, I hate her," she grits out. "On top of everything else she did, she hurt Lorelai. She didn't deserve that."
"You don't hate her half as bad as I do, snjóprinsessa. Trust me."
"Why? What did she do to you? How did you know her, anyway?" Her teeth chatter as she asks the question, and it dawns on me her bathwater is probably getting cold.
I stand and pull a fluffy white towel from the rack and hold it out to her. "Are you ready to get out or do you want me to refill the tub?"
"Are you not going to answer my questions if I pick one over the other?"
"I'm going to answer. I just don't need your body temperature dropping again. One time in twenty-four hours is more than enough."
She smiles and says, "Okay. I want to get out." Before I know what she's doing, she's shifting as though she's going to do it right now.
I hurry closer and turn my head to the side, staring at the most unremarkable spot on the wall. I want to look, but I settle for the feeling of her wet body pressing into the cloth and wrapping it around her. Fuck, she feels good like this, barely pressed against me, her hands on my arms for support. I lift her and she squeaks as I remove her from the tub and place her on the ground.
Glancing around the bathroom, I realize I forgot to get her clean clothes. "Let me get you something to wear," I say, rushing into my room. I mentally slap myself in the back of the head. There is no way she doesn't see how excited I am to offer her my shirt. So much for playing it cool.
I return with one of my Henleys and a pair of joggers that tie at the waist. It's all going to be too big for her, but I can't wait to see her in them.
"I'll leave you to it," I say, stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door behind me.
I busy myself by plugging in my phone, changing into fresh pajamas, and folding down the blankets on my bed. I desperately want her to stay in my room, and by the way she talked a few minutes ago, I don't think she will want to sleep alone. But I in no way want to force her.
I'm thinking and overthinking and considering re-making the bed and sitting on the floor when the bathroom door opens and she steps out, wearing my clothes.
And fuck, my plaid pajama pants and old black t-shirt I haven't worn in fifteen some-odd years were nothing compared to this, to seeing her in a pair of joggers I wear regularly and one of my favorite Henleys...that happens to hug her breasts in the most perfect, most mouthwatering way. She even unbuttoned all of the buttons except one. I know that for a fact because when I handed it to her, they were all fastened. I was trying to give myself a fucking fighting chance here.
And my joggers, rolled up around her waist, sitting just right on her hips. God, I am so fucked.
She tosses the towel on the footstool in front of the fire after squeezing the moisture out of her waves. "I'm sorry if I'm stretching out your shirt," she says sheepishly.
"You're sorry if what?" I ask, lifting a brow.
"If I'm stretching out your shirt. It's a little clingy on me and I tried to pull it away from..."
She glances over at me, and I'm not sure what she sees written on my face, but I know what I'm feeling. I can't believe she is apologizing for the way she wears my clothes. If I didn't want her curves in them, I sure as hell wouldn't have handed her two of my old favorites.
"I just..." She starts again but falls silent when I step toward her.
I should back off and not eat up the space between us. But my brain isn't working right. Maybe it was the bubbles sliding over her skin that made me malfunction. Or perhaps it is the hard peaks of her breasts pressing against my shirt. I don't stop moving until I'm standing in front of her.
The heat coming off her body calls to me. It has ever since she started warming up in my arms. I wanted my hands on her skin.
I still do.
She swallows and looks up at me from underneath those thick black lashes, her gray eyes a dark and tempestuous sea of what I can only describe as confusion.
She wants me to touch her. She wants to put her hands on me, but I can see she's not sure if she should. I don't know exactly why that is—probably about 100 reasons—but I need her to know that the chance that I don't feel the same shouldn't be one of them.
"My shirt looks good on you," I say, tracing the line of open buttons down her chest. I'm careful not to touch her skin, not to cross that line until she says the word. But I'll be damned if I don't toe it.
She inhales sharply and draws her bottom lip between her teeth. "You think so?"
"I said it, didn't I? I don't say things I don't mean, Cordelia."
"Neither do I," she whispers. "Thank you. For saving my life. You didn't have to, and that—that makes a big difference to me."