Chapter 39 Untitled Chapter
A branch snapped behind me, sharp, deliberate. 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—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..."
I leaned in first, our lips meeting soft, tentative. The kiss deepened slowly—tongues brushing, tasting wine and wanting. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, angling me closer. Heat spread, melting the last of the cold.
We shifted—me straddling his lap, the blanket falling away. His hands roamed under my coat, pushing it off my shoulders with deliberate slowness, fingers tracing the curve of my spine through my sweater. I shivered—not from cold, but anticipation. He kissed down my neck—slow, open-mouthed presses that left trails of fire, nipping gently at my pulse point until I gasped.
"Alexander..." My voice was breathy, hands fisting in his sweater.
He pulled back, eyes searching mine. "We can stop."
"No." I kissed him again, harder, pouring everything into it—the frustration, the fear, the need.
Coats hit the platform with soft thuds. He lifted my sweater over my head, the cold air pebbling my skin instantly, but his mouth was there—hot on my collarbone, trailing lower. I arched as his lips closed over one nipple, tongue swirling slow and deliberate, hand cupping the other breast, thumb rolling the peak until it ached. Pleasure sparked, building low.
My hands explored him—sliding under his sweater, tracing the hard ridges of his abdomen, the faint scars from fights past. He groaned against my skin, the vibration sending jolts straight to my core. I tugged his sweater off, exposing broad shoulders, the play of muscle under tan skin. The lantern light danced over him, casting shadows that made him look like something carved from myth.
He laid me back on the blanket—rough wool against my bare back, but his body covered me, warmth radiating like a furnace. Kisses trailed down my stomach—slow, reverent—fingers hooking into my pants, sliding them down with panties in one go. The cold air kissed my exposed skin, but his mouth followed—hot breath on my inner thigh, lips pressing soft kisses higher, higher.