“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I don’t want you to drop me from the sky. Plus, you’re really warm.”
“I’m not flying.”
“Oh.” Furious heat rose up my cheeks, and I opened my eyes.
He quirked an eyebrow and rubbed my back. “You can do this.”
Was he trying to give me a hug? Comfort me? Oh boy, this male was unlike any other, and I had no idea what to expect from him. I unwrapped my arms, and he released me. I stepped away, knee-deep in the snow. The wind whipped my hair right over my face.
Michael reached out and stepped closer. Facing his chest, which radiated heat like a furnace, I gulped and looked up at him. He moved my hair away, then reached behind him to untie his hair. He passed me a black hairband. I tied my hair up in a tight bun.
Michael nodded. “Let’s run.” He took off like a bullet.
I turned and sprinted up the stairs, and just as I made it to the massive front doors, they slammed in my face. I tried the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. I needed more clothes, and then I could take off into the town and search for my house.
“If you follow me, soldier,” Michael’s voice traveled on the wind from what seemed a mile away, “you will earn fur-lined boots. If you don’t follow me, I will leave you to freeze. Move it! Keep your blood pumping. Keep the heat in your body running.”
“You are crazy,” I whisper-hissed. The night blanketed the sky, but with the snow and the well-lit property, it seemed like a perfectly normal morning for a run. And the farther he got, the more aware I became of how alone I really was, not just on the lawn or in the house, but in the city, maybe the entire world. When Michael disappeared down the hill, I contemplated escape. I didn’t know where to start looking for my family, nor did I have clothes to brave the winter. I needed more information, and hell, maybe even stamina for an extended search. I ran after him.
Chapter Seven
Honestly, since we were alone, when Michael said to follow him, I thought he’d pause for me to catch up so we could run together. The mile-long distance he put between us snuffed out that particular wishful thinking right away. When he’d said follow, he meant it. And I couldn’t keep up. The snow started falling anew, piling onto my clothes.
The boots that came with the uniform provided no warmth, and, I suspected, also let in the moisture. Despite running at full speed, I seemed to make little progress, and the harder I ran, the more aware I became of my shallow breaths, soaked uniform, and frozen toes.
The ground seemed to tilt, meaning I was running uphill.
Which was ridiculous. The House of Command sat at the top of the mountain, so there was no uphill from where I started. Now, new terrain seemed to appear out of thin air. Michael could’ve conjured up a hill. A male who stuck a sword into the ground and changed the world as I knew it could surely make a small hill. For him, it was probably equivalent to playing in the sand and making landscapes. Child’s play.
Golden wings spread at the top of the hill. I ran toward him, tripped, and fell flat on my face. I dusted off the snow and groaned. Getting up, I blushed. Michael wasn’t there anymore, so he hadn’t witnessed my fall. Small mercies.
The harder I ran, the more distance I seemed to put between me and the top of the hill, and before I knew it, I realized I had no idea where I was, and Michael was nowhere in sight. Stopping and bending to catch my breath, standing in the middle of snow up to my thighs, I made a sad attempt to call after him. “Commander.” It came away as a whisper. Stars played over my eyes. I was gonna pass out. Wet pants, wet underwear, wet feet, I shivered. I’d freeze in place, and nobody would find me.
In the snow, I searched for his footsteps. None found, I checked the sky above me. He left me out here. I turned to see a way back and spotted the House. It seemed miles away. Had I run this far? No way. I couldn’t have. I simply didn’t have the stamina for marathons. Eyes on the House, I tried running back, but the winds blew right at me. I kept my eyes on the House and struggled, lifting my legs in the snow, fighting the fierce winds whipping my body. The moment I stopped, I’d collapse and die.
Death had a way of motivating me. Mind on the House, the warmth, the comfortable bed, soup, and a fireplace, I moved forward. I slowed down, but didn’t stop. I kept moving. The winds switched direction and gusted at my back, suddenly propelling me forward.
I smiled, eyes on the prize. House. Warmth. Fur-lined boots.
Close.
Closer.
Angels flew overhead. Soldiers marched south. Nobody paid me any mind as I crossed the massive yard to reach the stairs. Climbing seemed impossible. I couldn’t lift my legs any longer, so I picked up my pants with my hands and helped my legs trudge up the steps. Did he really need so many stairs? At the top, flooded with relief, I entered the foyer, barely controlling my trembling limbs.
Body swaying, darkness edged into the corners of my eyes. I stumbled, hit the wall, and leaned against it, relying on it to keep me upright. There was no way I could make it up to my room. I slid down the wall and shivered, though the house was warm. Always warm. Almost welcoming. Peace came over me, a strange feeling of accomplishment. I closed my eyes.
The scent of evergreen, fresh and masculine, preceded
