Heat
1173 Words
Neviah
He doesn’t answer my question, just sits there gazing at me through the flames. I should feel creeped out with this strange man staring at me, undressing me with his eyes.
Well, maybe he isn’t quite undressing me. Maybe. I don’t know.
But he is looking at me with those gorgeous forest-green eyes. And now that I have more time to really look at him, I see the dark grey circle around the green that sets off the color so much.
I’ve always had a thing for eyes.
And I’m not creeped out at all right now. Strangely, I feel a hundred percent safe with him watching over me. Maybe it’s just the heat of the fire that’s slowly drying out my clothes, the warmth penetrating straight through the fabric.
Yeah. That’s probably it.
“I’m Neviah,” I say when the silence has stretched embarrassingly long. After all, I’ve been staring at him too. “If you don’t want to say your name, that’s okay.”
“Fenric.”
“What?” I ask.
“My name is Fenric.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I say, though I chastise myself in the next breath.
What a ridiculous thing to say, Nev. Nice?
“I mean, it’s a nice name,” I clarify, as if that helps. No, it doesn’t. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it.”
He grabs a stick silently and stokes the fire, standing quickly and heading outside the cave without another word. I guess I’ve insulted him.
But just as I think that, he comes back in with a log for the fire.
“It’s a family name,” he says, his tone deep yet even, not harsh. Maybe I didn’t insult him.
“Was your father named Fenric too?”
“Nope.”
Well, that’s confusing. I was hoping that would trigger more talking, but he just adjusts the fire with the stick and sits back down, cross-legged, without another word.
I start to ask my next question but stop with my mouth still open. I want the answers, but I don’t want him to feel like I’m giving him the third degree.
I mean, the guy looks... rugged, like he’s been out here in the wilderness darn near his entire life, living off the land. I don’t know how that happens in this day and age, but I guess it’s not impossible.
And a man who shuns civilization, for whatever reason, isn’t going to be exactly thrilled about all my questions.
So, I take the cue and just remain silent, untying my shoes to deal with my feet. As expected, my socks are soaked through, but at least now the moisture is warm from the fire. I peel them off, draping them over my legs so I can dry them off while getting my feet closer to the fire.
Both feet are still fairly numb, but at least they don’t feel like something is biting them anymore. I wiggle my toes a bit to make sure they even still work.
I pull out the plastic I’d put on my feet earlier and crumble it up. Looking around, there’s nowhere to put it, so I shove it back in my coat pocket.
“What’s that?” he asks.
I nearly jump at his question. “What’s what?”
He nods toward my pocket.
“Oh,” I say, pulling the wad of plastic back out. “It’s just a bag I had some snacks in. I used it to try to keep my feet from getting wet.”
His brow furrows, wrinkling his forehead. In an instant, he’s standing, walking over to me. My heart starts thundering in my chest.
What’s he going to do?
He stops next to me, squatting down. “Let me see it.”
My eyes are wide as I ask, “See what?”
“The bag.”
“Um, okay.” My hand trembles a little as I dig into my pocket to pull it out again.
His hand brushes against mine when I hand it over. My reaction is intense. It’s like little mini bolts of lightning shoot through everywhere he touches, even if it’s only a slight touch. I suppose being lost in the snowy woods and nearly freezing to death has my brain going a little loopy. It could be the lack of food as well.
His brow crinkles again as he examines the plastic bag. “Water can’t get through this.”
It’s a statement, not a question, but I answer him anyway. “Um... no, not unless there’s a hole in it.” Has he been out here so long that he hasn’t seen plastic wrap?
He shrugs and hands it back to me then looks at my feet and makes a face. Lord help me, that frown is adorable....
“They’re frostbit,” he says.
It takes me a minute to realize he said something else since I’m lost in a trance, admiring the definition of his face. “What? Oh, yes. But they’re warming up with the fire. Thank you.”
“That was smart.”
I look at him, confused, not sure whether that was sarcasm. It’s not my fault I’m alone in the wilderness. Is he insulting me?
“Putting that bag on your feet to keep the wet snow off probably saved your feet,” he explains.
No, he’s not insulting me. He’s... complimenting me?
Before I can completely process that, he’s reaching for my feet, wrapping a warm, strong, handsome hand around my left toes. Yes, his hand is actually handsome on the end of that muscular arm....
The warmth hits first, then more of those electric tingles that happened when his hand brushed against me before. He starts moving his fingers, massaging me, and I just about come apart.
Heat shoots straight to my core, and it takes everything I have to keep from moaning.
No man has ever had this effect on me—definitely not Steve. Every touch from Fenric lights up my nerves with tantalizing pleasure.
I want more.
My eyes close practically on instinct as he continues to massage my toes until they feel alive again. He moves to my right foot, and my left side instantly feels the loss of his touch that even the fire can’t warm up.
But just as suddenly as he began, he stops. My eyes pop open to see him already standing, heading back to his spot on the other side of the fire.
No, come back....
I must be losing it from being out in the cold. I know nothing about Fenric other than that he’s fast, strong, and seems to have been living out here in the wild for years, if not for his entire life. And here I am, desperately craving his touch.
He could absolutely be a serial killer living out here in the wild to escape the police.
But I’m going to stay right here, and I guess I’ll find out.
- Writer
