Page 79 of 10 Days to Ruin

He unwraps it, takes a deliberate bite. “Suit yourself.”

Then he settles back against the rock.

I sit as far away as I can, anxious and jittery. Night falls fast here—no city glow to soften the edges. Stars punch through the blackness, brighter than I’ve ever seen them. Sasha tends the fire with a poking stick, his face completely impassive.

I huddle in his shirt, guilt in my stomach curdling and churning alongside something hotter.

“Why aren’t you mad?” The words escape before I can stop them.

He glances up, firelight carving his face into something ancient. Feral. “Would you like me to be?”

“I mean, I’d understand if you were. I sabotaged this.”

“And?”

“And… you should be furious! Yell! Threaten to leave me for the bears to eat!”

The fire crackles. His eyes hold mine. “I wouldn’t do that.”

I want to ask which part precisely he wouldn’t do, but before I can, there’s a loud boom?—

And it starts to rain.

Not rain, actually—pour. The heavens crack open and let loose on us like this storm is personal. The fire is immediately snuffed out with a mournful sizzle.

I scoot backwards, but there’s only so far to go. And besides, water leaks in from a crack in the ceiling, dripping ice-cold betrayal onto my scalp. It’s been thirty seconds and my teeth are already chattering.

Sasha curses in Russian, yanking me against his chest. His heartbeat thunders through my cheek.

“Hypothermia,” he barks over the storm. “Take off your clothes.”

I snort. “Smooth. If you think that’s gonna work, then?—”

“They’re wet. So it’s either that or die of exposure.Now, Ariel.”

We strip to our underwear, modesty sacrificed to survival. His tank top clings to every ridge of muscle, every old wound. My neon bralette feels absurd. Vulnerable.

He arranges our clothes near the dead fire, then pulls me back against him. I’m rigid as a plank of wood in his arms. Skin to skin, his breath hot on my nape, he murmurs, “Don’t make this weird.”

“You’re literally spooning me in a cave.”

“And you’re shivering too hard to insult me properly. We’re all suffering.”

The rain continues to pour. His arms tighten. My mind scrambles for hatred—but my body…

My body remembers his hands in the steam room. His laugh at Zoya’s. Blue eyes in an alleyway, saying things he’d clearly never said out loud before.

I try to hold out, but before long, I sink against his chest. Only because nuzzling into Sasha is the difference between life and death. It has nothing to do with the way his arms stay strong around me. Corded with muscle. Warm.

Safe.

Minutes or maybe hours later, the storm peters out. Through a gap in the foliage, we watch as the dark clouds roll on and the night sky reveals itself. I begin to regain feeling in my fingers and toes.

But the feeling ofThis can’t be realremains, stronger than ever.

“Better?” His breath warms my ear.

No!I want to cry.Worse. So much worse.

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