The Guy Named Nali

Four

The body lay where it had fallen, eyes glassy in the moonlight.

Nali didn’t glance back again. She did.

Her feet dragged over damp earth as they moved through the forest, her eyes flicking to every shifting shadow, every whisper of wind. She couldn’t shake the image of that blade sliding into flesh. Couldn’t forget the way Nali’s voice had gone so low when he spoke to the dying man words she hadn’t caught, words she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

They had almost reached the slope where the ground began to climb toward the cabin when the first distant rumble shook the air.

She froze, glancing upward. The moon was still visible, but a thick smear of clouds was crawling across the sky. Another rumble closer, but this time rolled through the trees like an approaching tide.

“Storm,” Nali murmured, scanning the darkened canopy.

She wrapped her arms around herself. “We can make it back to the cabin.”

His head turned slightly, eyes narrowing in a way that told her he’d already dismissed the idea. “No. They’ll expect us to return there. The rain will cover our trail if we move now.”

“Move where?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, throwing jagged shadows through the forest. The air thickened, carrying the metallic scent of an oncoming downpour.

He didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he started moving again, faster this time, cutting off the path toward the cabin entirely. She stumbled after him, every step slipping on wet leaves.

Within minutes, the first drops began to fall, cold and sharp against her skin. The wind rose, bending the treetops, and thunder broke overhead so loud it seemed to split the night in half.

By the time he stopped, the rain was coming down hard enough to blur her vision. She blinked water from her lashes, shivering.

Nali stood before a wall of jagged rock half-hidden by overgrown vines. Without hesitation, he pushed aside the dripping foliage, revealing a narrow gap just wide enough for a person to slip through.

“In,” he said.

She hesitated, glancing at the dark opening. “What is this?”

“Shelter.”

Lightning flared again, illuminating his face, so calm, unreadable, but there was something sharper in his eyes now. Urgency. Maybe even… protectiveness.

The wind howled behind her, and she ducked inside. The gap was tight, forcing her to turn sideways to pass between the wet rock walls. The space opened abruptly into a shallow cave, maybe twelve feet deep, its low ceiling barely high enough for her to stand without ducking. The air was cooler inside, but dry. Mostly.

Nali followed her in, the narrow entrance forcing his shoulder to brush against hers as he passed. Even through the soaked fabric of her shirt, she could feel his heat. She stepped back instinctively, bumping into the rock wall.

He didn’t seem to notice or maybe he did, and just didn’t care. He moved to the mouth of the cave, pulling the vines back into place until the storm outside was little more than a muffled roar.

The only light came from the occasional flash of lightning, spilling silver over the walls before fading to darkness again.

She pressed herself to the far side of the cave, arms wrapped around her knees. Rainwater dripped from her hair, sliding cold down her neck. She couldn’t tell if the tremor in her limbs was from the chill or from the proximity of the man sharing this space.

He knelt near the entrance, listening. The muscles in his back moved subtly beneath the fabric of his shirt each time he shifted. She looked away quickly.

After a while, the wind outside rose to a scream, driving the rain against the vines like handfuls of pebbles. The sound was almost enough to drown out her voice when she finally spoke.

“Do you… always kill that easily?”

His head turned slightly toward her. In the next flash of lightning, she caught his expression. Calm, but with the faintest crease between his brows.

“I don’t kill easily,” he said. “I kill when I have to.”

She swallowed. “And me? If I become… inconvenient?”

His eyes held hers in the gloom. “You’re already inconvenient.”

Her breath caught. There was no malice in his tone, but something about the words sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could answer, a sudden crack of thunder made the cave walls tremble. She flinched. A moment later, the vines at the entrance whipped wildly, spraying cold rain into the space.

Nali rose and crossed to her in two steps. She backed against the wall, startled by how quickly the confined space seemed to shrink around them.

“You’re shaking,” he said, his voice low enough that she almost had to lean closer to hear it.

“It’s cold,” she muttered.

Without asking, he crouched in front of her, his knees brushing hers. The warmth of him bled into her even before he reached for her hands. His fingers closed around them, firm, steady, and she was struck by the contrast. His skin was warm, almost hot, but dry despite the storm. The contact was too much. Too close.

She tried to pull back. “I’m fine.”

His grip tightened just enough to keep her there. “You’re not.”

She could feel her pulse hammering against his fingers, and she hated that she didn’t know if it was fear or something else making it race.

Another flash of lightning lit the cave, and for a split second, she could see every detail of his face, the damp strands of hair clinging to his temples, the shadow of stubble along his jaw, the faint curve of his mouth as though he was holding back something unspoken. Then darkness again.

Her breath came shallow. “You’re… too close.”

His voice was quiet, but unyielding. “There’s nowhere else to be.”

And he was right, the cave was barely wide enough for them to sit without their knees knocking together. Any movement brought some part of him against her: a brush of his arm, the shift of his thigh against hers.

Minutes stretched, filled only by the storm and the sound of their breathing. The heat from his body seeped into her, chasing away the chill even as it unsettled something deep inside her.

When a particularly loud crack of thunder rattled the stone overhead, she startled forward and his hand came up to steady her, landing against her side.

They both froze.

Her skin burned under his palm, her chest rising and falling too quickly. She could feel the strength in his hand, but there was no pressure, only the suggestion that if he wanted to, he could hold her there without effort.

The air between them thickened.

Slowly, deliberately, he withdrew his hand, but the warmth it left behind lingered like an ember.

“We’ll move when the storm passes,” he said, his voice rougher now. “Until then… rest.”

Rest. As if that were possible in this space, with him so close she could hear the faint rhythm of his breathing, feel the occasional brush of his knee against hers when he shifted.

But she didn’t argue. Because outside, the storm raged on. And inside, she wasn’t sure which was more dangerous what might be waiting in the forest… or the man sitting less than a foot away.

TO BE CONTINUED...