Page 15 of How to Dump a Vampire

I find Draven midway, laden with an armful of split logs, or, rather, I crash right into that armful as he sways disoriented in the maelstrom. The impact knocks us both down into the snow.

“What are you doing out here?” Draven exclaims through chattering teeth, dropping the spilled logs.

“Rescuing you, it would seem!”

I help Draven to his feet, pulling his arm over my shoulder and clasping his waist. Together, we battle back up the now wholly obscured path, my cloak fortunately large enough to shelter us both in its enchanted space with a few logs still in his arms..

I halt us just outside the glowing cottage window, its light blurred behind ice crystals. “What happened?” I pant. “You were taking too long.”

Draven shakes his snow-crusted head ruefully. “Got turned around in the whiteout. I’d still be lost if you hadn’t come to find me. Seems I owe you my life again.”

He looks down at me, our faces flushed from cold and close proximity. I read the question in his eyes, the same nameless draw I feel.

I clench my gloved fists, shaken. We cannot keep tempting fate this way.

“You shouldn’t have let go of the rope. It was right next to you, but you couldn’t see it because of the storm.Neverlet go of the rope if you can’t see it.“ I huff and try to calm my frustration, reminding myself that he isn’t someone who usually does this himself. “Let’s get inside.”

I hurry us in before he can speak further. Once we’re sheltered in the cottages warmth, I force myself to step back, busying myself stoking the stove’s fires.

When I finally turn back, Draven stands shivering, his numb fingers fumbling unsuccessfully to remove his snow-encrusted outer layers.

“Here. Allow me,” I say gently, approaching to help peel off the sodden cloak and muffler.

Draven exhales, shoulders slumping. “Appreciated. My hands have gone quite useless.”

He surrenders to my ministrations, silver eyes intent on my face as I carefully unwrap the frozen garments. I feel suddenly shy under his gaze but continue steadily freeing him from the clinging wet fabric.

With his tall frame bent toward me, an intimate hush falls over us, broken only by the crackling fire. I peel the last soaked glove from his hand, pathetically numb and white. Clasping it between my own, I begin gently massaging warmth back into his icy fingers.

Draven’s breath catches. His skin thrills under my touch as blood flow returns. I diligently focus on restoring sensation to each digit, acutely aware of his nearness.

When at last his hands are rosy and flexible again, neither of us moves to break contact. Our eyes lock, heat rising between us. I know I should step back, but some magnetism keeps me transfixed.

Slowly, Draven lifts his free hand to brush a raven lock from my cheek. His cool fingertips trail sparks across my skin. Entranced, I lean into his touch, my breaths coming fast.

“Thorn…” Draven murmurs, low and thick with longing. He begins to dip his face toward mine.

At the last moment, panic grips me. I turn my head sharply, his lips just grazing my hair instead. The half-forged moment shatters.

I pull back, the loss of his touch a palpable ache, and I force a teasing tone to cover my turmoil. “Let’s get you warmed up with some tea.”

I don’t meet Draven’s eyes again as I busily retrieve the kettle. The cottage air now hangs heavy with dangerous possibility.

With effort, I ignore my racing heart. I must keep my wits about me. Much more is at stake than mere attraction.

Yet as we sip tea in brooding silence, I cannot deny part of me wishes I surrendered to the fire blazing between us.

7

Draven

The tea’s rich, earthy flavor coats my tongue, the warmth seeping deep into my chilled bones, yet something about the restorative brew continues to nag at me. Ever since waking in Thorn’s cozy domain, this beverage has mysteriously sated my hunger, keeping the gnawing thirst for blood at bay.

I study Thorn over the rim of my mug, watching steam wreathe her delicate features. She avoids my gaze, posture tense, as we sip tea in brooding silence. The near-kiss haunts the scant space between us.

Setting down my empty cup, I clear my throat. “Forgive my curiosity, but this tea of yours intrigues me. Where did you find such a unique blend?”

Thorn’s shoulders hunch almost imperceptibly. She busies her hands preparing a fresh pot, not meetingmy eyes. “It’s merely an herbal tisane I discovered through my studies.”

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