An hour later, Arrah had joined the Imen outside on a brief patrol around the cabin, just to make sure we had a tranquil night ahead. Dion and Alles remained outside, by the fire, wearing red lenses. Our paranoia was fully justified, after what we’d been through.

The dark night reigned over the mountain slope, but the moons cast a warm glow wherever they could breach the thick pine tree crowns. The snow shimmers caught my eye as I looked out the window of one of the second-floor bedrooms, which I’d decided to claim for the night. I heard the floor creaking back on the ground floor.

I went back to see who was left by the fireplace and saw Patrik as he scooped a sleeping Scarlett into his arms, then gently carried her upstairs into the first room. Hundurr stayed behind, groaning as he watched the Druid close the door behind them. They were both exhausted. Hell, we all are.

After a day spent stuck in Dhaxanian frost, the prospect of sinking into a bed had never sounded so appealing. Heron cleared his throat as he came up to the room, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, still.

“We can take this room and leave the others for the Imen,” I suggested, my cheeks burning. The prospect of sinking into a bed was even more appealing when the bed included Heron, as I looked forward to melting in his arms like before. This would be the third night we’d spent together, though we’d done a decent job of not tearing the clothes off one another so far.

He seemed off, though. A mixture of sadness and frustration flickered in his jade eyes. He was still sullen and grouchy over Nevis. I stifled a smirk, struggling to keep a straight face as he looked at me. I found his plight endearing, and I didn’t know what else I could possibly say to get his mind off Nevis.

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “You sleep. I can hang out with Dion and Alles, then crash on the couch, downstairs, by the fire.”

“There’s a fireplace here, too,” I said, pointing at the small furnace in the room, lined with rounded river rocks. The wicker basket next to it was loaded with wood and coal, and candles were half-melted on the mantelpiece. “Once I light it up, it’ll keep us warm.”

“Well, you can toss that snowflake out into the northern wind if you need someone to keep you warm. I’m sure Nevis will come flying,” Heron retorted, then, judging by the boyishly sad expression he wore, he instantly regretted saying such a thing.

In hindsight, my glare must’ve played a part, too. I could feel it burning through him. I took a deep breath, enjoying the awkward silence between us. I could’ve snapped back with a more painful sting, but I’d already understood that this wasn’t really Heron, but rather a very insecure side of him rearing its ugly head with Nevis’s presence in our lives. He just needed to admit it, and having a confrontational attitude would’ve only made things worse between us. I didn’t want him to retreat and leave me. I didn’t want to lose him, either, so I took on the role of the adult in the room, instead.

“You know that’s a flimsy comeback, given that Nevis is literally cold natured, right?” I murmured, feeling the corner of my mouth twitching. Heron didn’t reply. Instead, he just stared at me, most likely afraid to say anything else. Maybe I’m too calm. Maybe he’s thinking this is the calm before the Avril storm. I gave him a soft smile. “Listen, if you change your mind, I’ll be here. You go hang out with Dion and Alles, if that’s what you really want. In the meantime, I’ll light the fire to make it warm and toasty and draw myself a quick bath.”

Heron blinked several times, baffled. He’d really expected me to be more aggressive after his childish jab regarding Nevis. I wasn’t going to indulge in his attempt at self-sabotage. After everything we’d experienced together, and, most importantly, after having felt his lips on mine, there was no way he was getting off the hook that easily.

We had feelings for each other; that much was clear. Neraka was either going to make us or break us. Personally, I had no intention of allowing the latter to happen. Heron was strong, determined, resilient, funny, and devastatingly charming when he wanted to be. He made me look forward to every moment I could get with him, even when that meant navigating his foot-in-mouth syndrome and childish displays of masculinity. I was crazy about every part of him, even the frustrating bits.

He nodded slowly, then walked out of the room and headed back downstairs. I could hear Hundurr huffing, pleased to see him return. He took the pit wolf outside, joining Dion and Alles by the fire.

I chuckled softly, then lit the fire. I rummaged through the bedroom dresser and found a long, off-white linen shirt to sleep in, along with a bunch of towels. I commandeered the bathroom for about twenty minutes. The water was cold, but it felt amazing, as I scrubbed off days’ worth of running for my life. Whoever had used the cabin before us had even left some bars of soap tied up with twine under the sink.

After I washed my hair and wrapped myself in one of the large towels available, I slipped back into the room and settled by the fire, welcoming its warmth as I changed into the linen shirt. I could hear the guys outside, muffled voices at the front of the cabin.

I felt a little bad for Heron. All that time he’d spent locked up in Azazel’s prison had certainly wreaked havoc on his psyche and self-confidence, even though he didn’t show it. Azazel was dead, though. I couldn’t let that mangy old Druid ruin Heron’s life from beyond the grave. He’d suffered enough.

My gorgeous-yet-emotionally-clumsy Mara needed a boost of confidence. As I dried my hair with a fresh towel by the fire, I made an executive decision: I’d be the one to deliver said boost.