Cold Blood Beast

19

Lia

"For you, I will." He says standing up. All emotions that were once on his face now turned cold and stoic. He continues to look at me and his hot stare brings heat to my skin and especially between my legs.

"You seem to be warming up quickly, I can feel your heat." He says glancing at me then back at the fire, I hope he doesn't realize that my heat is the arousal with those keen senses of his.

My cheeks redden in the darkness and I'm sure he saw the coloring with his good eyesight and that thought only made them turn redder.

"Ah... yeah." I stammer. He lets out a breath before giving me one last reluctant look. And before I know it, he flies off into the darkness. Leaving my father and me alone.

I stood in the shadows for a few minutes, too scared to move.

The wind turned harsh and violent against my skin again, I shivered and sat back down in front of the fire. But I was still cold. Cold without Everest's heat. His wings wrapped protectively around me- maybe I was oblivious but it made me feel so much better. He made me feel like I wasn't alone. Like I wasn't a piece of meat these beasts could toss around.

He seemed to... care. I smile at the thought and rub my arms up and down. My hair blew around my face, while minutes pass by I felt my eyes droop. I was exhausted but somehow too scared to go to sleep without Everest here with me.

He told me to wait here and I had to trust that I'd be safe. I wouldn't be stupid and wander out to follow him. I reminded myself.

But, as I waited and waited, He never came back. He told me it would only be a few minutes... Was he hurt? But if he was hurt, wouldn't I have felt it by now?

I caught myself so deep in my thoughts the fire simmered.

Frowning, I go to add another log but as I place it atop all the flames, it's smothered.

It goes dark as the flames disappear. Smoke pools out the sides making me cough. I fan the smoke away and stand up with an annoyed groan.

I walk around the ruined and unlit fire for a bit before making my way over to my father.

He still sleeps soundly and I decide I should check his pulse. It beats slowly and I start to worry again. Was he still cold? There was nothing for us to warm up, I'd just have to deal with it. My father had the only blanket and it was as thin as a sheet regardless. I liked to think that my coat was keeping him warm because my coat was the warmest thing I had to offer.

I hoped that he'd sleep through the rest of the night so we could get moving when morning came. And after all, he was a deep sleeper. I knew this from his loud obnoxious snores from across the hall at home.

I smile at the memory of hiding under my bed when I was a very little girl. Angry at my father for giving me a bedtime, but when in reality, he only did that because he loved me... and probably because he was beyond exhausted having to watch over and teach me 12 hours a day, not to mention do his work simultaneously.

Or when he would make me eat vegetables at dinner. And how I begged and pleaded for dessert, which consisted of two small slices of soft cinnamon bread. And if I was lucky, a square of dark chocolate. He would buy chocolate for me whenever he went into the village, and that was a few times a year.

And thinking back, I was fortunate to have him. He would give me his serving of cinnamon bread when I finished mine since I ate so quickly. I loved that sugary dough so much he makes it for me on my birthday. Or he would make one batch a month- we were always low on supplies so we had to salvage it the best we could.