The intriguing, hot, and hot man.

It was dripping blood, the dagger. That was all that registered in Clea’s mind. She brought out her gun, set it, and pointed it at him, targetting his forehead.

“Drop your weapon.”

He stared at her blankly at first, confusion in his eyes. Then he dropped his weapon, dropped on his knees and raised his arms.

The act threw Clea off; she hadn’t been expecting compliance.

She tightened her hold around Jo and walked slowly towards him. Behind him lay a fallen, bleeding Kangaroo. Clea winced, removing her gaze. Then she directed it back at the man, glaring.

“You killed it!”

She had bashed her car to avoid it getting hurt, only for this guy to attack it.

“Yes,” he responded. His voice was mellow, and she could see he didn’t know what he did wrong.

“Why?!”

“To eat.”

In the following minute, she did nothing but glare at him. She had a lot to vent, but she quickly understood this wasn’t the right time, place or person.

“Stay where you are,” she told him and walked back to her car.

She reopened the boot and the failure of the decisions she made that afternoon once again stared at her in the face. She had forgotten to bring Jo’s first-aid box with her. Jo whined as if realising the same. The wince struck an emotional injury in Clea. She closed the boot and set him on it, inspecting his injuries. His golden fur was coated with blood here and there. He wasn’t bleeding much, but it was a matter of time before he started bleeding a lot.

She glanced at the guy. He was still there, on his knees with his arms up. This would be the second time he was surprising her.

“I didn’t really mean that, you know?”

“You… would like me to get up then?”

“Are you always this soft-spoken or are you just scared…?”

His voice was as thick and mature as a man’s could be, but he was speaking so softly, with a warm tone that made Clea almost swoon. Almost.

“I don’t kn-”

“Can you help?” she carried Jo to him and showed him his injuries.

He tried to touch Jo’s back but Clea shifted back instinctively. “I think so.”

She raised her brows. “You won’t eat him…?”

He frowned a bit. “No.”

“Okay. Give me a second.” She went to her car and carried out her box. When she steadied it on the ground and looked back at him, he was still on his knees, his arms raised. “Are you serious?!”

* * *

“How much farther is your house?” Clea asked worriedly, they had been walking for almost ten minutes now. “Won’t he bleed out before we get there?”

“We’re almost there,” he responded. It was the same thing he had said when she asked earlier.

“For real, this time?”

“Yes.”

He scratched his waist, and Clea caught him at it. But her eyes didn’t stop there. They travelled all the way up, gawking at his abs, and chiselled arms. She didn’t stop looking even when he caught her staring.

Rather, she quipped, “You’re hot.”

That was probably why he could go around a forest on such a cold night with only a pair of shorts on. Clea even with her boots and jacket and scarf was almost shivering.

He stopped walking.

“What?” she questioned.

“Nothing.” He swallowed and tightened his grip on the kangaroo he was dragging after him.

Clea struggled to resume the walk as her box bumped against all sorts of roots.

“Can I help? Please,” he offered.

“Nah, I’m good.” Even in death, she wouldn’t let him touch her box or cat with his kangaroo-blood soiled hands.

“Okay, sorry for asking,” he murmured.

She peered at him. He was weird, for sure. Why was he apologizing for that? “That was nothing to be sorry about.”

“Okay… sorry I was… sorry.” He scratched his head.

Clea chuckled, admiration finding its way into her eyes as she gazed at his hair. A little long, it was packed at the back. Weird for a man, but it looked cute on him. And his eyes, like hers, were amber in colour. They glinted in the moonlight.

“Have you noticed we have the same eye colour?” she asked.

“We do…?”

She scoffed. He hadn’t noticed? Did that mean he hadn’t even stared at her at all?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Then he started staring. Hardcore staring. The kind that gave Clea goosebumps and made her self-conscious. He stared at her hair and Clea adjusted it. He stared at her face and Clea found herself licking her lips and hoping she wasn’t sweating. He looked at her chest and Clea pushed out. He looked at her stomach and she sucked it in.

Wait, what was she even doing?

“Stop staring,” she blurted.

He looked away sharply, like someone caught doing a bad thing.

“We’re here.”

They were standing in front of a bush. A wall-like bush. Clea stood puzzled until he reached forward and pushed the bush, and it opened like a door.

“Wow.” Clea swerved aside as he dragged his meal behind him. She followed him cautiously into the compound. In the middle stood a large wooden bungalow. The forest was eerily silent, but it was even eerier in here. Colder. “You live alone?”

“Yes.”

“What about your family?”

He shrugged uncomfortably and avoided her gaze. She didn’t need much telling to know she had touched a soft spot. “I have no family.”

Clea wanted to say she was pretty sure he didn’t fall from the sky, but she swallowed that comment. He might not like that and the last thing she wanted to do was upset the guy she was depending on to save Jo. She checked if her gun was still in place. It was.

She pursued another line of questions as she followed him in. “This place doesn’t seem like a residential area.”

“No.”

“You live on the outskirts of the town, then. Why?”

“It just turned out that way,” he sounded gruff.

“Are there a lot of you who do?”

“No, it’s just me.”

Clea followed him closely, fearing that she might trip over a dead animal’s carcass or something. They were inside and she couldn’t see a thing as it was all dark.

“Ever heard of electricity? I’m sure the town has it.”

“They do.”

“Why doesn’t your house then?”

“No one except me knows of my home.”

“No one except you…? Why? Is this like a hidden plac-”

Clea’s breath and the rest of her words were knocked out as he suddenly turned to face her. Her hand immediately went to her gun, but her eyes faced upwards. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. She could feel his breath cascading off his face and unto hers.

“You’re making me uncomfortable with your questions.” There was a plea in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise,” she found herself whispering.

“Give me the cat.”

She did so, wincing due to the blood she envisioned would be on his hands. Though he had left the Kangaroo outside, he hadn’t rinsed off its blood. “His name is Jo. Please don’t eat him, or think of it.”

The guy scoffed and opened a door. A strong wind whooshed in and Clea uselessly shielded herself with her arm. Before she thought to join him, the door was closed again. She stood there for a few seconds before feeling her way back to the ‘sitting room’. Everything she touched was freaking cold. She wished she had brought her leather gloves. She stood there till the guy returned. There was a weird striking sound, then a bright red light filled the room. Clea sighed. Warmth, finally.

The red light came from a fireplace set at the centre of the room. She could see now that he had tended to Jo’s wounds and set him on large leaves. She rushed to his side and pet him a bit before paying attention to the guy who knelt awkwardly by them.

“You do have a name…?” she was cautious.

“Tarik.”

“Thank you, Tarik.”

Jo was shivering, so she took his duvet and used it as a cushion for him. She also took her duvet and wrapped it around him. Then she went to sit in front of the fire, spreading her arms towards it. She rubbed her palms together and continually blew on it.

“Are you cold?” Tarik asked.

Clea didn’t look away from the fire as she spoke to him. “Yes. Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Well, you’ve lived here for a long time I suppose your body’s gotten used to it to some extent.”

“Yeah.”

There was silence for a few more minutes, and then Clea felt a warm presence by her side. She jerked back in shock, her hand again going to her gun.

Tarik was trying to sit down really close to her.

He looked sorry. “Uhm… I just want to…” she followed his gaze to his hand which was slowly moving to hers. When his hand finally held hers, she understood.

Tarik wasn’t just not cold. He was hot, literally. Her chest rested and her whole body trembled in relief at the warm contact.

“...help you not be cold,” he completed.

Clea removed her eyes from their entwined hands and gazed up at him. Funny that even while seated, she still had to look up at him. Somehow, staring into his eyes made her feel even warmer.

He reached around her with his other arm and pulled off her jacket.