Asher

The air is thin and colder up here, despite us being only at the end of the summer. Solange and I make our way through the rugged terrain, the mountains loom high above us, their peaks shrouded in mist. I keep a firm grip on Solange's hand, guiding her over the uneven ground, making sure she doesn't stumble.

"There has to be some sort of shelter around," I tell her. "This mountain is popular with hikers. We'll find something."

She nods, her face pale but determined. "I hope so. I've already got blisters." At least she doesn't have her heels on, but managed to find some sneakers.

I squeeze her hand, offering her a comforting smile. "You're doing good. Just stay close to me."

The path is difficult, each step a challenge as we navigate the rocky ground. Solange struggles at times, her breath coming in short gasps, but she pushes on, her resolve impressive. I keep an eye on her, watching for any signs of fatigue or injury in case I'll have to carry her. She's strong for her size, but everyone has their limits.

"Careful here," I say, helping her over a particularly steep section. I place my hands on her waist, lifting her slightly to ease her climb. She gasps, but manages a grateful smile when she reaches the top. "Good job."

"I don't know what I'd do without you." she breathes, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"You won't have to find out," I reply, my voice steady. "I'm right behind you."

We continue our trek, the cold biting at our exposed skin. The forest is dense, the path winding and sometimes barely visible. I stay alert, scanning the surroundings for any signs of shelter. My senses are heightened, every rustle of leaves, every crack of a branch, setting me on edge. But I keep my demeanor calm, for Solange's sake.

She stumbles on a loose rock, and I catch her before she falls, pulling her close. "Easy," I murmur, my arm around her waist. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she says, her voice shaky. "Just lost my footing."

I nod, letting her go once she's steady. "We'll take it slow. No rush."

As we move forward, I spot a faint trail marker, a small wooden sign half-hidden by foliage. "Look," I point out, guiding her towards it. "We're on the right track."

Her eyes light up with hope, tears spurting. "Finally."

We follow the trail, the terrain gradually becoming more manageable. The wind howls through the trees, and the temperature continues to drop. I keep Solange close, her warmth a small comfort against the biting cold. When she shivers, I drape a blanket over her shoulders, pulling it tight.

"You'll be warm soon," I promise, my voice low. "Just a little further."

We hike for what feels like hours, the sky growing darker, the forest more foreboding. I can sense Solange's exhaustion, see the strain in her eyes, but she doesn't complain. She trusts me, and knowing that I have her trust makes me feel like the biggest, baddest bastard alive.

"There," I say, spotting a small wooden cabin nestled between the trees. It's weathered but sturdy in the desolate wilderness. "We've found it."

Solange's relief is palpable, her smile tired but genuine. "I was almost getting worried."

I smile back, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction that I could keep my promise. "Let's get inside and get your temperature up."

The cabin is small and rustic, the walls adorned with faded photographs of hikers and climbers who have sought shelter here before us. The floor creaks under our feet as we step inside, the air inside musty but it's more comforting than being outside.

Solange's eyes sweep the room, taking in the sparse furnishings. "This isn't too bad," she murmurs, her breath visible in the air.

I nod, peeling off my jacket and setting it aside. "It'll do for now."

We both glance at the only bed in the corner, a simple wooden frame with a worn mattress. There's a pang of hesitation, an unspoken question of who will take it. But before it can linger, Solange shakes her head.

"You take the bed," she breathes, her gaze meeting mine and heat rips through my body. "I'll be fine on the floor."

I hide a smirk because there's no way I'll let her do that. Besides, I plan on seducing her which means there will be two in that bed."Alright. But if you change your mind…"

"I won't," she insists, already rummaging through our meager supplies for blankets and first aid kits.

I watch her for a moment, her movements tired but she just needs a couple of hours of good rest and she'll be fine. I admire the way she has handled this challenge and most of all I admire that she lets me look after her. She's still in her uniform, but it's dirty now, her amazing legs bruised and there are some cuts on her arms.

"You should probably let me tend to those scraps of yours," I rasp, breaking the silence. "Looks like you could use a bit of care."

Her face turns, lips parting. "You first."

I shake my head. "Be a good girl and pull up your sleeve."

Flushing, she sits down at the table and rolls up her sleeve. There's a scrape on her elbow, a bruise forming on her cheek. I retrieve antiseptic wipes and bandages from the kit, kneeling beside her.

"You sure blood doesn't make you queasy?" she asks and I give her a faint smile.

"I'm sure."

She shudders. "Personally I hate it."

I don't say anything.

The cabin's dim, the only light filtering through the small windows. My hands are gentle as I clean and dress her wounds, her skin a little cold beneath my touch. She winces occasionally, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she watches me with a mixture of gratitude and something else I can't define, but it makes my blood heat.

When I finish with her injuries, she insists on returning the favor. I reluctantly agree, sitting on a chair while she tends to a cut on my forehead and a bruise on my arm. Her touch is gentle, her fingers soft against my skin. I close my eyes, letting her care for me, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability in her presence that I'm not sure what do with. I've never really been mothered but I'm being mothered down, and I could definitely get used to more.

"There," she says finally, her voice soft. "All done."

I open my eyes to find her kneeling before me, concern etched in her features. She shouldn't be on the floor, shouldn't be kneeling but I'd be lying if I'd said I didn't like her in this position.

"Do I look better now?" I murmur, meeting her gaze.

"Less bloody." She smiles, her eyes searching mine and she adds in a breathier tone, "Handsome."

I nod, the words caught in my throat. "You think I'm handsome?"

"Every woman that takes one look at you thinks that," she says dryly.

"Don't care about what they think," I rasp and her eyes flicker like flipped through pages, her breath catching in her throat. The silence stretches between us, charged with unspoken emotions. I'm going to kiss her. My lips start prickling, eagerness flaring through my veins and I'm about to clasp her chin to pull her to me when she abruptly rises, cutting off the moment.

Damn, I thought I had her.

My fists clench and I grit my teeth, as Solange wraps a blanket around her shoulders and uses a couple of spare logs to light the fireplace. It casts frantic shadows across the walls, and Solange settles crosslegged on the floor. I watch her for a moment, the soft glow of the firelight playing on her features, and I realize how much I want to protect her, keep her safe.

Deep down, I know I'm meant for her. I knew the moment I saw her walking down that terminal on her pointy, little heels. I rub my chest, surprised I can't feel her fingers squeezing my heart.