Page 24 of Trapped with the Ice Queen

Alex stiffened. Her first instinct was to retreat, but the press of Vivienne’s back against her chest rooted her in place. It wasn’t just the fear of waking her. It was the unexpected comfort of the moment—a feeling so foreign she didn’t know how to dismantle it.

Her gaze flicked to the hearth. The fire had burned low, embers glowing faintly beneath a layer of ash. The scent of pine and smoke mingled with Vivienne’s natural scent, a strange but not unwelcome blend of wild and refined. She let out a slow breath, watching it fog in the cold air above the quilt.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The thought echoed in her mind, heavy and insistent. Alex had promised herself to keep her distance, to treat Vivienne as nothing more than a temporary presence—a charge to protect until the storm passed. But here she was, wrapped around her like an anchor, her body betraying a closeness she’d sworn to avoid.

Her hand twitched, and she carefully, carefully shifted her arm. Vivienne stirred slightly, her breathing hitching beforesettling back into a steady rhythm. Alex froze again, her heart thudding against her ribs.

What are you doing?

Her jaw clenched as she fought to rationalize the situation. It was the cold, she told herself. Sharing body heat was survival, not intimacy. It didn’t mean anything. But the excuse rang hollow in her mind, unable to stand against the quiet pull of her growing attachment.

Her gaze drifted to Vivienne’s face. In sleep, her features were softer, stripped of the sharp angles and guarded expressions that usually defined her. Her lashes rested against her cheeks, a faint crease marking the corner of her mouth as if caught mid-thought, even now.

Alex frowned. There was something unsettling about seeing Vivienne like this—unguarded and vulnerable. It blurred the lines Alex had drawn between them, made her wonder how much of the glamor was armor rather than artifice.

Her chest tightened, the dissonance between what she thought she knew about Vivienne and the woman lyingin her arms growing louder. How much of this was real? How much of it was her own loneliness, twisting circumstance into something more?

She rolled onto her back, creating a few inches of space between them. The cool air rushed in where Vivienne’s warmth had been, but Alex ignored the shiver it sent through her. Distance was safer.

Safer for who?

The question hung unanswered in her mind, sharp and unrelenting. Alex closed her eyes, willing it away, but the memories came anyway—past relationships fractured by her inability to let anyone in. It was easier to push people away than to let them see the raw parts of her life.

But Vivienne was different. She had stumbled into Alex’s world, uninvited and unprepared, and somehow managed to hold her ground. That should have annoyed her. Instead, it unnerved her in a way that felt too much like admiration.

The quilt shifted beside her, pulling her back to the present. She opened her eyes to find Vivienne stirring, her movements sluggish and half-aware.

“Mmm,” Vivienne murmured, her voicethick with sleep. She turned toward Alex, blinking slowly as her gaze focused. “Morning.”

Alex quickly averted her eyes, hoping the faint blush creeping up her neck wasn’t visible in the dim light. “Morning.”

Vivienne stretched beneath the covers, her lips curving into a small, sleepy smile. “Do you always look this grumpy when you wake up?”

Alex scoffed, trying to conceal a small smile. “Only when someone hogs the blanket.”

“Me? Hog the blanket?” Vivienne arched a brow, the teasing lilt in her voice cutting through the quiet. “Pretty sure you were the one clinging to me.”

Alex’s ears burned, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed, planting her feet on the cold floor. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Vivienne chuckled, the sound warm and soft, settling between them like a truce.

For a moment, Alex hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. Vivienne’s gaze met hers, something unspoken passing between them. It wasn’t tension exactly—more like a fragile understanding, teeteringon the edge of something they both recognized but which neither of them dared to say aloud.

“I’ll get the fire going again,” Alex said finally, her voice low.

Vivienne nodded, her smile fading. “Okay.”

As Alex knelt by the hearth, coaxing the embers back to life, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the atmosphere in the room had shifted. It wasn’t just the warmth returning to the cabin. It was something deeper, more intimate—something she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

The storm outside had quieted, its ferocity reduced to a faint whisper against the cabin walls. Inside, the space felt warmer, not just from the fire crackling in the hearth but from the shared purpose in the tiny kitchen.

Alex stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, hands buried in dough as she kneaded with practiced ease. The weathered apron tied around her waist was streaked with flour, a testament to years of use. Across from her, Vivienne clutched a knife, poised over acutting board with a mix of determination and trepidation.

"You're holding it wrong," Alex said without looking up.

Vivienne glanced up, her brows knitting. "I’m holding it exactly how you showed me."

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