Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 121 - Chapitre 130

The transition from the golden light of the late afternoon into the crisp, cobalt dusk of the northern ridge happened with the swift, silent precision of the high country. Within minutes, the valley below was swallowed by a deep, purple shadow, while the jagged peaks of the mountains still burned with the fiery orange embers of the dying sun.Inside the cabin, the amber glow of the hearth fire danced across the rough cedar logs, casting long, fluid shadows that reached into the corners of the room.Liam remained seated on the front porch steps long after the sun had dipped entirely below the western ridge, the wool blanket still draped securely around his shoulders. The sharp mountain air carried the rich, damp scent of pine and evening dew, a clean, intoxicating reminder of the world they had chosen.Footsteps sounded on the floorboards behind him, and a moment later, the heavy warmth of Jaxson settled over him. The captain didn't say a word. He simply lowered his massive frame onto

The shattered ceramic of the coffee mug lay scattered across the pine floorboards, a cluster of white shards gleaming in the amber light of the hearth. Neither of them looked down at it. The anger that had flared like dry timber just moments before didn't dissipate; it shifted, mutating into something heavier, denser, and far more demanding. The kitchen counter bit hard into Liam’s lower back, but he didn't care about the bruising. He cared about the weight of Jaxson’s body pressing him down, the sheer, immovable mass of the captain boxing him in against the wood, and the raw, electric friction of skin against skin now that his shirt had been torn open to the collarbone. Jaxson’s breathing was ragged, a low, harsh sound that vibrated against Liam’s chest. His amber eyes were dark, dilated almost entirely black, tracking every micro-expression on the skater’s face with a predatory intensity that left nowhere to hide. "Still think it's a cage?" Jaxson growled, his voice a gravelly r

The heat inside the small cedar cabin had completely vanished by midday, leaving the air sharp, dry, and cold enough to frost the inside of the windows. The dead ash in the stone hearth sat like a reminder of yesterday’s friction, gray and heavy, but neither Jaxson nor Liam made an immediate move to relight it. They remained tangled in the heavy wool blankets of the wide bed, the chaotic fallout of the previous afternoon still evident in the room. The shattered shards of the coffee mug crunched quietly underfoot whenever either of them shifted, and the ruins of Liam's linen shirt lay discarded near the door like a discarded skin. Liam rested his head against Jaxson’s bare shoulder, his fingers idly tracing the thick, raised topography of an old hockey scar just below the captain's collarbone. His skin felt sensitive, every nerve ending hyper-tuned to the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of the massive chest beneath him. There was no anxiety in the silence now—no restless itch to get

The night outside the cabin was pitch black, stripped of moonlight by a thick, heavy ceiling of cloud cover that promised a fresh system rolling in from the high northern passes. Inside, the darkness was kept at bay only by the dying embers of the stone hearth, casting long, bruised shadows across the log walls and turning the corners of the room into deep pools of obsidian. Liam lay awake on the wide bed, staring up at the dark timber rafters overhead. His body felt heavy, completely spent from the physical demands of the past two days, yet his mind was humming with a restless, hyper-aware energy. He could feel the solid, monumental weight of Jaxson’s arm thrown heavily across his waist, pinning him to the mattress with an automatic, possessive anchor that the captain hadn't loosened even in his sleep. The silence of the mountain at midnight was unlike any silence Liam had ever known in the lowlands. In New York, even at three in the morning, there was a low, constant hum of civi

The water in the cedar tub slowly cooled to a comfortable, skin-temperature warmth as the morning sun climbed higher into the cloudless blue sky, burning away the last wisps of valley mist. Liam floated lazily against Jaxson’s chest, the tension that had gripped his muscles for years completely melted away by the combination of the mineral heat and the unyielding weight of the captain’s arms. "We have to get out eventually," Liam murmured, though he made no move to shift his position. His bare toes grazed the submerged wooden slats of the bench, completely relaxed. "Unless you plan on growing gills and living in the plumbing." "I could live with that," Jaxson rumbled, his deep voice vibrating right through Liam’s back. One of his large, calloused hands was tracing slow, lazy circles across the skater's hip, the skin there already warming up after the shock of the cold air. "As long as the plumbing comes with a woodstove and an endless supply of coffee." "And firewood," Liam adde