Violet didn’t get the chance to ask her question because Roman was already ascending the wooden stairs with minimal effort as if he was carrying mere air and not a grown human like her.
Instinctively, she tightened her grip around his shoulders, pressing herself closer as the steps beneath them groaned and creaked ominously. A scream hovered at the tip of Violet’s tongue when one particularly fragile plank let out a cracking sound, her heart seizing at the thought of them crashing down. And breaking her pretty neck.
Violet wanted to tell Roman to stop, that the flimsy rope supports wouldn’t hold both of their weights, but before she could utter a word, they already reached the top. What the.... Violet was rendered speechless. Fucking werewolves!
The platform they stood on was stable, but the entrance to the tree house was not a door, but an open archway framed by roughly cut wooden beams, weathered with age and exposure.
A single curtain hung in place, swaying slightly in the wind, its fabric thin and frayed at the edges, giving the entrance a rustic, almost dreamlike feel.
Violet gulped, her fingers still curled around Roman. The place had an air of secrecy, as if belonging to something—or someone—wild and untamed. And now, she was stepping into it.
Roman didn’t drop Violet until they were inside the treehouse, and the moment her feet touched the wooden floor, she seized the opportunity to ask the question that had been burning in her mind.
"Who else is here with us?"
Roman faced her, his expression shadowed with confusion. "Who else is here?"
Although she couldn’t see him in the dark, she could feel the warmth radiating from his body like a beacon. Frustration welled in her chest, and she pushed against his shoulder to make her point.
"Don’t play cheeky with me! Is that why you brought me here?"
Roman let out an exasperated sigh. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"Oh really?" Violet shot back. " ’We wouldn’t want you to fall.’ That’s what you said on our way up here."
"So tell me, who else is here?!" she demanded.
Roman didn’t respond right away, and Violet’s stomach twisted with dread. It didn’t help matters that the silence stretched, feeding her worst fears.
Her mind began to reel. If she needed to escape, how would she do it? Climbing down in the dark was impossible.
Panic was creeping up her spine when suddenly, Roman suddenly burst into laughter. A deep, unrestrained laugh filled the treehouse, making not only her brow twitch but her annoyance to rise.
"What’s so funny, Mr. Draven?" she snapped, folding her arms.
"Nothing much," he said between chuckles. "Aside from the fact that you completely missed a rhetorical way of speaking."
Violet’s glare intensified.
"I said ’we’ instead of ’I’ to sound more inclusive, and now you’re convinced I’m plotting something." He intentionally took a step closer, their bodies brushing. "But the way I see it... you’re the one hoping something happens."
Violet’s breath hitched, but she refused to back down. However, Roman wasn’t done. He leaned in, his lips hovering near her ear.
"Tell me... what were you expecting? Or rather.... " his voice dipped, low and teasing. "Who were you hoping for? Alaric? Griffin? Or... Asher?"
Violet’s cheeks burned, while her pulse hammered wildly at the sound of those names.
She recoiled, flustered. "Get lost."
Roman only grinned. "Sorry, honey, but you’d be the lost one if I left. Now come here."
Before she could protest, Roman reached out, his hands closing around her arms. His touch was warm—so incredibly warm that she nearly leaned into him, craving to sink into the heat that chased away the lingering cold....
Okay, hold on, sister.What in the name of things-that-shouldn’t-happen was she thinking?
His thumbs brushed her arms absentmindedly, and she shivered, and it was not just from the chill.
Roman noticed. And, of course, misread it. "Still cold?" he mused. "Don’t worry, we’ll share body heat. You’ll be fine in no time."
Violet’s brain screeched to a halt.
"Share body heat?" she repeated, her throat suddenly dry. "Isn’t there... like... an extra shirt or something? I’d probably stop feeling cold if I wore something."
Roman chuckled, the sound deep and knowing. "Body heat is better. A werewolf’s temperature runs double—sometimes triple—what humans’ do." He cocked his head. "Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the contact earlier?"
Violet’s face heated against her will, and the fact that he could see it in the dark only made it worse. She hated feeling vulnerable, especially around him.
She met his gaze, stubborn. "You will keep your hands to yourself?"
Roman barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Honey, your kind are the ones always throwing themselves at me, not the other way around."
Violet groaned, exasperated. "Your cockiness is infuriating. Do you know that?"
"Confidence is sexy, Miss Purple." He chortled, then added, "Come on now, let’s get this over with. We don’t have all night. The longer we stay out here, the more time the others have to regroup and track us down."
The thought sent a shiver through her, but Roman’s presence was oddly reassuring.
"Wait here," he instructed.
Violet’s ears twitched as she listened to him move through the treehouse, shuffling around as if searching for something.
"Come."
His fingers curled around her wrist, guiding her forward. The dark made it impossible to see where they were going, and then— Thunk. Her leg hit something.
"It’s a couch," Roman informed her. "And we’re going to lie together."
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Violet’s brain did an instant double take.
She and Roman. Lying together.
That was a bad idea. A really bad idea.
Violet wasn’t even sure she could trust herself at this point. She might as well be putting her hands into an open flame and praying not to get burned.
And Roman? He was the fire. A burning furnace of warmth that she desperately needed.
The Lord help her soul.
She heard Roman settle onto the couch first, the furniture creaking slightly under his weight. Then, before she could second-guess herself, he reached for her and pulled her down beside him.
Violet, still wary, turned her back to him as she adjusted herself. The couch was not meant for two people. With Roman’s broad frame taking up most of the space, there was barely any room left, forcing her body flush against his.
Roman, of course, didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he tugged her closer until they were spooning. Violet would have protested, except his heat seeped into her body like a healing balm.
The guy had not been kidding. His body temperature was ridiculously high. Lying against him was like being wrapped in a living, breathing heat source, and she could not get enough.
Roman took that as permission and pulled a blanket over them, his arm draping securely around her waist.
And for the first time that night, Violet felt truly safe and warm.