[TO BE REMOVED FROM WATTPAD ON 2/28/2025]
Fearing for Will's life, Alex crosses the Rim to save him from the Rhean monarchy, but the dark truths awaiting her will make her question everything.
*****...
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Reality came in waves of muted sensations. Hands cradling my head. A few gulps of musky tea. The removal of wet layers and boots. Pain lancing through my broken arm, followed by a chorus of insults and murmured apologies.
I was slowly returning to the world of the living, but my eyelids were still too heavy, and I groaned against the dull ache of my thawing, shuddering muscles.
Torian's voice broke through the haze. "...I need someone to hold her while I dress her wounds...keep her still...her core warm..."
A pause. Two male voices. Then an argument.
"—help? You're the reason she's like this!"
I stirred, attempting to breach the pit of deep sleep. Was that Mason?
"...left her right after she lost her entire family... Harmon was killed...Fudge died, and you decided to leave her again.... she's got separation anxiety!"
Annoyance sparked in my temple.
Yes. Definitely Mason.
Scowling, I tried to open my eyes, but all I could see was a fuzzy mirage of carpet threads and army boots.
"...didn't think she'd follow me into the storm..." came a quiet, bruised reply.
"She broke into a palace of demons to find you, and you thought a little snow would stop her?" Mason scoffed, his voice too shrill for my mental state. "Stay, go—just make up your mind. I'm sick of her pouting."
It was quiet for a few seconds, and then I heard Victor's awkward remark about Liam and him having "some catching up to do," followed by receding footsteps. The next thing I knew, my body was deposited into Mason's stiff embrace. His bare hands burned against my spine and shoulder blades, and a disgruntled whine spilled from my throat.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Is that uncomfortable?" he taunted. "Maybe next time you should think twice about running after rabid wolves."
"Mason, can you be a little nicer?" Tori complained from somewhere behind me, shuffling through his medicine bottles and equipment. "She's hypothermic."
"She's an idiot. And I gave her explicit orders not to die."
My defrosted blood returned to my vessels, and my eyes fluttered at the stretching, swelling discomfort in my fingertips. Gritz, room temperature had no right being this painful. They might as well have tossed my body to the coals. It'd probably hurt less.
I curled into Mason, clawing at his warmth, soaking in his heat, desperate to escape homeostasis. I couldn't believe the jerk had become my safe haven, but at the same time, he was just about the only person I felt comfortable with in this delirious, half-naked state.
"You really care about her, huh?" the medic observed.
Mason tutted and wrung my hair out over the carpet. "...Don't you have a wound to stitch?"
