CHAPTER 2 – Winterdale
1371 Words
For a moment, it felt like the world forgot how to breathe.
The wind stopped. The snow stopped mid-air. Even my heartbeat stumbled—almost as if it lost track of what it was supposed to do.
Because of those eyes—
dark, unblinking, and fixed on me with a hunger so sharp it felt like it could drag me across the snow.
He stood beneath the old iron streetlamp, completely still. Snowflakes clung to his dark hair, melting slowly against the strands. His jaw looked sharp enough to slice through the cold, and although there were a few people near him, it was obvious—he wasn’t listening to a single one of them.
It was like even the freezing night didn’t dare touch him.
“Hey…” Lucy’s voice drifted softly through the fog. “You Okay?”
I blinked, unable to answer.
How could I, when he was staring at me like I was the only warmth left in this frozen town?
The streetlamp flickered once, weakly, but his expression didn’t shift.
My breath hitched.
Why is he staring? Who even is he?
Lucy followed my gaze—then let out a low whistle.
““Well damn. If Winterdale gives us views like that, we’re definitely staying a week.”
“Lucy—” I hissed, elbowing her.
“What?” she whispered loudly. “He’s hot. And he’s staring at you like… like some snow-angel psychopath.”
“Lucy!”
She only shrugged, totally unbothered.
Because the longer I looked, the more that strange feeling crawled up my spine. He glanced away for half a second—toward the guy standing near him—but the very next moment, his eyes were back on me.
His gaze dragged down my face, then my coat, my hands, the suitcase beside me.
And then—back to my eyes.
Slow. Calculated. Possessive in a way no stranger should ever look at anyone.
Then—he stepped forward.
Not toward us. Just two steps to the side, deeper into the streetlamp’s golden glow.
And that was enough for me to see him properly.
Tall. Broad shoulders under a black wool coat. Hands in his pockets like he owned every grain of snow touching the ground. His hair falling over his forehead, slightly wet from the snow. Eyes so sharp they could slice through defenses, excuses, lies—anything.
He wasn’t loud.
His presence was dangerous in its quietness.
“Okay, nope,” I said under my breath, tearing my gaze away. “Let’s get inside before I freeze.”
“Or before he eats you alive with his eyes,” Lucy snickered, tugging on her backpack.
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the inn.
But right before we stepped into the warm glow of the old wooden door, my curiosity betrayed me.
I looked back over my shoulder.
He was gone.
For a stupid, embarrassing second—
I actually felt disappointed.
---
Inside the Inn
Warmth hit my face instantly.
The cozy golden lights, the smell of hot cocoa, pine, and cinnamon wrapped around me like a blanket. A fireplace crackled near the reception, offering comfort Winterdale had no business ruining.
Lucy was at the counter talking to the innkeeper.
I stayed back, trying to calm my pulse.
But all I could think about…
Was him.
His stare. That unreadable expression. The way he hadn’t looked away—not even once.
“Earth to Mayara?” Lucy waved a hand in front of me. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I… I don’t know,” I whispered. “He feels… like different.”
“Different how?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
I swallowed.
How could I explain something I didn’t understand myself?
“I just… felt something. Something strange.”
Lucy leaned in dramatically. “Weird as in creepy or weird as in hot?”
“Lucy!”
“What? Be honest!”
Before I could answer, the bell above the door chimed—
ting… ting… ting…
My heartbeat jumped.
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Don't tell me—”
She didn’t need to finish.
Because I felt him enter before I turned.
Even before I turned around, I felt that same cold electricity roll through the room, wrapping around my ribs, dragging my breath to a stop.
Slowly… hesitantly… I looked over my shoulder.
And there he was.
Inside the inn.
Just a few steps behind me—like he had followed us in.
Like the snow outside had melted just because he walked through the door.
His eyes locked onto mine again—harder, darker, deeper.
So much closer.
Lucy mouthed silently, “Holy shit.”.
He moved past me.
Not touching me. Not brushing me.
But close enough that the air between us shook.
His scent hit me next.
Cold… clean… with a hint of cedar and something darker—something warm that curled low in my stomach.
He walked to the counter, his voice low and impossibly smooth.
“One room,” he said.
My breath froze.
Please God… not the same floor.
The innkeeper nodded, handed him a key.
“First floor. Room 303.”
My lungs stopped working.
Because that was our floor.
Directly across from our door.
Lucy turned to me with a look that screamed oh my God you’re dead.
I refused to look at her.
He slipped his card across the counter, his fingers brushing the wood lightly—then glanced sideways at me.
Barely. Just enough.
A ghost of a smile curved his lips.
Then—
A hand landed on his shoulder.
We both turned.
It was the same guy who had been standing with him outside, under the streetlamp.
“Got it?” he asked casually, taking another key from him.
When he looked at us—my stomach dropped.
Because he was stupidly good-looking too.
Tall, broad, messy brown hair, a black fitted sweatshirt hugging his build, an expensive watch on his wrist.
And those eyes—playful, flirty, warm.
“Hi,” he said with a soft smile. “Visiting Winterdale?"
Lucy answered instantly. “Yup. And you guys?”
“Something like that.” He smiled and He stretched his hand toward us.
“Reben Cart. And this is my friend—Adein Hel.”
Adein.
Even hearing his name felt like a cold hand closing around my pulse.
I looked at him for just a second—but he was already looking at me.
I’m Lusy Cart… and That’s my best friend, Mayara Sen.
Lucy shook Reben’s hand.
Then he extended his hand to me.
I took it lightly…
but someone’s burning stare scorched the space where our hands touched.
I looked up.
Adein.
His eyes were pinned to our handshake with a dark, furious intensity—like he hated the idea of another man touching my hand.
But why?
He shouldn’t feel that way.
He didn’t even know me.
We took our keys and turned toward the stairs.
Lucy and I had barely lifted our luggage when a deep, velvety voice brushed my ear.
“Enjoy your weekend.”
The way he said it…
A shiver ran down my spine.
Possessive.
Dangerous.
He turned and walked toward the wooden staircase—each step steady, unhurried, confident.
But right before he disappeared,
he stopped.
Half-turned.
And looked straight at me.
Like he was carving something into my mind.
My fear.
My curiosity.
My pull toward him.
Then—
He vanished upstairs.
Lucy grabbed my arm. “Okay, what the hell was THAT? Santa’s dark and sexy twin just imprinted on you!”
I stared up the empty stairs.
My heart was racing.
My palms were sweaty.
My mind was spinning.
And inside my chest…
something unfamiliar woke up.
Excitement.
Danger.
Attraction.
A tangled mess of all three.
“I… don’t know,” I whispered.
But even as I said the words…
I knew one thing for sure:
That man—
whoever he was—
had shaken me in a way no one ever had.
Something inside me had woken up.
What?
I didn’t know.
Not yet.
But Winterdale had just changed everything.
- Writer
