Chapter 47 The Treehouse
The cabin felt confining suddenly, the glass walls reflecting my solitary figure back at me, the lake outside a black void under the moonless sky. I needed air, space to think. The walk from yesterday, the frozen trail along the shore, called to me. I grabbed my coat from the hook by the door, the heavy wool rough against my fingers, and slipped on boots, the laces whispering as I tied them.
Outside, the cold hit like a wall, sharp, invigorating, carrying the clean, crisp bite of night frost and pine. Snow crunched under my boots, the sound echoing in the still air as I followed the path down to the lake. The woods loomed dark on either side, branches creaking softly in a gentle breeze, the distant hoot of an owl piercing the quiet. Stars glittered overhead, sharp as pinpricks in the black velvet sky, and my breath fogged in front of me like smoke.
I walked slowly, thoughts swirling like the flurries that had started to fall again, light, swirling specks that melted on my coat. The confrontation this morning replayed: Ben's accusations, Alexander's fury, the way he'd lifted him like he was nothing. I'd stopped it, but the fracture was there, widening. The fake marriage felt like a chain now, cold links digging into my skin. Alexander wanted out, wanted to protect me, provide for me. His words echoed: I can multiply it. It's still my money. Tempting. Safe. But ending it now? Too risky. Ben's threats weren't empty; he'd burn everything to spite us. And with the pack still recovering, Alexander couldn't afford the hit.
Deeper thoughts stirred, the shift, the power I'd unleashed. It terrified me, excited me, and left me questioning who I was becoming. Heir. The word whispered in my mind like the wind through the trees. And the deleted text, sibling. Hope flickered, but doubt doused it. I couldn't tell Alexander yet; he had enough shadows to chase.
The lake's edge appeared, frozen solid, the ice creaking faintly under its own weight. I stopped, breathing in the cold, clean air, letting it clear my head. Christmas Day, and here I was, alone in the dark, secrets piling like snowdrifts.
A branch snapped behind me.
I spun, heart leaping.
Nothing. Just the woods, dark and whispering.
But the unease lingered, a prickle on my skin.
I turned back toward the cabin, boots crunching faster now.
I spun, heart leaping into my throat, the cold air suddenly too thin to breathe. The woods loomed dark, shadows shifting among the pines.
Then a figure emerged, tall, broad-shouldered, moving with that familiar predatory grace.
Alexander.
Relief flooded me, warm and liquid, chasing away the chill. He stepped into the moonlight, coat unbuttoned, hands in his pockets. His breath fogged too, and his dark eyes caught mine, intense even in the dim light.
"Saw you from my room," he said quietly, voice low and rough, carrying on the still air. "Decided to join you."
I nodded, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. "Couldn't sleep."
He closed the distance in two strides, his presence a wall of warmth against the cold. Without a word, he took my hand, his palm rough and hot, fingers intertwining with mine in a grip that sent sparks up my arm. The bond hummed between us, electric and soothing all at once.
"Come on," he murmured. "I want to show you something."
He led the way, our joined hands swinging slightly as we veered off the lakeside path into the woods. The snow was deeper here, muffling our steps to soft whispers, the pine needles overhead releasing their resinous scent with every brush of wind. My boots sank in, cold seeping through, but his hand anchored me, pulling me forward with gentle insistence.
"Ben?" I asked, glancing back toward the cabin's distant lights.
"Asleep," he said, not breaking stride. "Not that I care."
The words carried an edge, but also a promise, we were alone, truly alone, in this frozen world.
The path narrowed, trees closing in like silent guardians. After ten minutes, we reached a small clearing. There, nestled in the crook of a massive oak, stood a tree house, simple but sturdy, wooden planks weathered to silver, a rope ladder dangling from the platform fifteen feet up. A small deck wrapped around it, offering a view over the treetops toward the lake.
Alexander gestured up. "After you."
I climbed carefully, the rope rough against my palms, swaying slightly with each step. The wood creaked under my weight, but held firm. Up top, the platform was cozy, with padded benches along the rails, a small table with a lantern, and a blanket folded in one corner. The view stole my breath: the lake a dark mirror below, stars reflected in its surface, the woods a sea of black silhouettes stretching to the horizon.
Alexander joined me, his boots thudding softly as he pulled up the ladder. He lit the lantern, a soft, golden glow that pushed back the shadows, and unfolded the blanket, draping it over the bench. From his coat pocket, he produced a small flask and two tin cups.
"Wine," he said, pouring the deep red liquid. It smelled rich, blackberries and oak, warm against the cold air. "Mulled. I thought it might help."
We sat close, thighs pressing, the blanket over our laps. The wine was hot on my tongue, spices blooming, clove, cinnamon, orange peel, spreading warmth through my chest. We sipped in silence at first, shoulders brushing, the bond pulsing with quiet intensity.
"Thank you," I whispered finally. "For this."
He turned to me, eyes dark in the lantern light. "You needed it. We both did."
The air between us thickened, charged. His free hand found mine again, fingers tracing slow patterns on my palm that sent shivers racing up my arm. The cold faded; heat built low in my belly, slow and insistent. This felt different, away from the estate's shadows, Ben's suspicions, the pack's threats. Just us.
He set his cup down with a soft clink, turning fully to me. His hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing my lower lip. "Maddie..."