I soaked for longer than I meant to. The warm water clung to me, steam curling upward from the bath and fogging the mirror above the sink. The old tub creaked under my weight every time I shifted, but it didn’t matter. I leaned my head back and stared at the wooden beams of the ceiling. A spider was tucked up in the corner, perfectly still in its web, and for some weird reason, it made me feel less alone. There were so many thoughts crowding my head, but they all buzzed too loud to follow. Ethan. The agency. My mom. This whole imprinting thing. I hated how much it was all starting to pull at me, tangle into one big, messy knot of confusion that no amount of hot water could unwind. I sighed and dipped under the surface again, letting the water muffle the world. When I came up, I blinked through wet lashes and rubbed at my face. My fingers were still very pruney. I’d been in here for way too long. Dragging myself out of the tub felt like tearing myself out of some weird
The day passed in a weird, floaty haze. I’d spent most of the morning pretending to read a book, lying on my stomach across the bed that Ethan told me was mine now. The blanket still smelled like wood and detergent. I kept rereading the same damn paragraph, my brain foggy, not from exhaustion, but from overthinking. Every time I blinked, I remembered the way he groaned against my neck, and how I definitely, 100%, should not be blushing about that. But I was. God, I was. Eventually, I gave up on pretending I had my life together and reached for my phone. It was nearly dead, naturally, but still alive enough to buzz to life in my palm. The screen was a mess of missed notifications. But the ones that made my heart sting a little were from Tessa. Tessa: Camila, are you okay?? Why are you not picking my calls?? Girl, you're scaring me? Talk to me, please. I stared at the messages for a while, my chest getting tight. I should’ve replied. I wanted to reply. But what
I brought the mug up to my lips, grimacing with each bitter, icy sip. Ugh. Maybe I should just throw the whole thing at him. That would be satisfying. I didn’t hear him until he was right behind me—like a goddamn shadow or one of those smug cats that knows it owns the place. Before I could react, two strong arms wrapped around me from behind, warm and firm and way too comfortable. He pulled me back gently into his chest, and I felt him chuckle low against my back. “Let me go,” I grumbled, trying to sound serious but probably coming off like a flustered mess. “I was just teasing,” he said, voice stupidly soft. Then I felt his breath at my neck, the press of his nose as he buried his face there. I froze. Then he inhaled. Deeply. Like he was trying to memorize the scent of my skin. A satisfied groan slipped from his throat, one that vibrated against my spine, and I swear my soul just about left my body. “Ethan,” I whispered, not trusting myself to say anything else.
I woke up with a groan, my throat dry and my body stiff. My back ached, my legs were half-asleep, and something soft and warm was under my cheek. Wait. The soft thing… moved. My eyes snapped open and I instantly squinted against the sunlight flooding in through the wide cabin windows. Warm morning light painted the wooden walls in golden hues, and the scent of pine mixed with something else… something familiar. Musk. Skin. Him. Oh, god. My head was resting on Ethan’s lap. I blinked hard, my mouth suddenly dry for an entirely different reason. I could feel the fabric of his sweatpants against my cheek. His body heat was strong, and his scent was almost overwhelming. And then I realized something even more disturbing. He was staring down at me. Just… watching me sleep. I tilted my head slowly, my face burning as I met his gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, still heavy with sleep, but his mouth was curled in this small, lazy smile like I’d just made his entire week. “
The silence in this place was… deafening. I could hear everything. Every creak in the wood. Every groan of the old cabin settling. Every branch tapping against the windows like a bony finger wanting in. Even the damn wind sounded like it was whispering secrets just out of reach. My nerves were so tightly wound I swear I could hear my own heartbeat thumping behind my ears. A distant animal cry echoed from somewhere outside, and I flinched like it had stabbed me. Ethan chuckled. I turned my head and shot him the nastiest glare I could muster, which probably wasn’t that nasty since I was also on the verge of crawling into his lap like a damn baby bunny looking for warmth. "You don't have to be scared, Camila. You're safe." His voice was low, lazy even, and his eyes were still closed like he was meditating or half-asleep. "I'm not scared," I grumbled. "Sure," he muttered back, that fucking smug tone lacing his words like he already knew I was full of shit. And I was. K
The drive felt like forever. I didn’t even realize when I’d fallen back asleep—maybe it was the last remnants of whatever he’d slipped in that damn mug—but by the time I cracked my eyes open again, the car was rolling to a stop. The soft crunch of gravel under the tires brought me out of the haze. I sat up slowly, my head still feeling foggy and a little too light. I blinked at the window, confused. Trees. Trees everywhere. Where the hell were we? “Where are we?” I croaked, my voice sounding like it’d been dragged through a blender. Ethan turned the engine off and looked over at me, that too-gentle smile on his face again—the kind that would’ve seemed sweet if I didn’t know better. “Safe,” he said simply. “At least for now.” I stared at him, then at the house—or maybe I should say cabin—sitting just ahead of us. It was tucked into a bunch of tall trees like some kind of nature getaway you’d see in a travel blog. A little too peaceful-looking. Small wooden porch, light st