Page 12 of Knotting Before Them

“Did it call to you?” he asked, tipping his head to the side.

He was making fun of me, the silly girl who moves mountains for… well, for a mountain.

I knew I was odd. I wasn’t afraid to be, though.

“It’s beautiful,” I said instead.

He just nodded, taking in the view. Pushing off the door, he walked to me, his eyes everywhere and nowhere.

“Noah usually leaves it locked. It’s a miracle you found it open…”

He let his words hang, but still, I said nothing. I was glad that Noah, in his anger at my presence, had forgotten to lock it. Even as the cold bit my toes, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go for a glass of water or go back to the room for a rest. I wanted to swallow the mountain whole. I never wanted to leave it.

“How’s the drawing going?”

I sighed, showing my disappointment. “I keep moving closer and closer, thinking an idea will strike, that something will make sense to my eye and I’ll start to create, but now I’m here, and still…”

“Seeing it’s not enough. Maybe you need to be part of it.”

I chuckled at his joke, but when I looked at him, his eyes were dead serious.

“Part of the mountain?” I asked, arching a brow.

I was silly, but not that much.

“Do you wanna race?”

I’d laugh again, but his eyes sparkled, and I wanted to say yes. He was gorgeous in the moonlight, his blonde hair collecting little snowflakes in the wind. He was wearing dark blue pajama pants with a thin, white long-sleeve shit and no shoes like me.

We were supposed to be shivering, but I was trembling with warmth.

“Come on, race me,” he pushed, nodding to the side of the balcony.

I followed his eyes and found a small gate leading straight into the woods, a path winding through the frosted trees. I bit down on my bottom lip and thought about a million reasons why I should say no.

Instead, I screamed, “Now!”

I ran before he could have a chance—I was little, and his legs were double mine. If I wanted to win, I needed to cheat.

I heard him laughing as I raced down the path, my feet feeling the cold, but only for a second. I ran so fast, it was like flying.

Wylder was closing on me. I heard his breathing, his laugh, felt his warmth and breathed in his woody scent.

I was drunk on a high I had never felt before. The path was only illuminated until a certain point, and soon, we wererunning into the cold, dark woods, my bare feet leaving tracks in the snow.

Instead of cursing in pain, I laughed with freedom. Instead of asking myself what was happening, I let myself do what felt right.

I breathed in the cold air, letting my legs take me into the dark. Just when I thought I was the freest, I felt his arms closing around my waist, lifting me from the ground. I yelped and tipped my head back on his shoulders, and his shaved beard tickled the delicate skin of my neck—I never felt better.

Wylder twisted me in his arms as I let him move me like a little doll. Front to front, he held my legs up and around his waist, his nose just a breath from mine.

“You never answered me,” he whispered, as if the souls in the woods could hear us.

“What?” I breathed out hot air.

“If you heard a call to the mountain.”

It was too dark. I couldn’t see him, but I felt him everywhere—his strong hands digging into my thighs, his shoulders under my fingertips.

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