Ivy
Warmth. That's the first thing I register. Not the snowstorm still raging outside. Not the house creaking under the weight of the snow. Not the memory of the bloodied face at the window. Just… warmth.
I blink against the pale winter light leaking around the curtains. My head is pillowed against a chest that rises and falls with slow, steady breaths. A heavy arm is banded around my waist, beneath my shirt, holding me close and protective.
Elias.
I freeze. Every muscle goes tight. His scent is pine and frost, and it seeps into me with each inhale. He's asleep, but even asleep, his hand fits perfectly against my hip, keeping me there like I belong here. Like I belong with him.
Carefully, I shift, trying to slide out from under his arm. It's like trying to move a mountain.
