I've survived worse than blizzards.
Wreckage doesn't scare me. Sabotage doesn't either. But her?
She stumbled from the twisted metal of her plane, defiance burning through the snow like a flare. The aviation expert they'd all turned on. Isolated. Betrayed. Needing trust she swore she'd never give again.
I dragged her to my remote cabin. Howling winds sealed us in. Flickering firelight was our only world. I told myself I'd coordinate. Protect. Stay the fortress I've always been.
One touch shattered that lie.
Her body slick against mine before the roaring flames. No hesitation. No condom. Just my dominance claiming her in the heat of denial-shattering surrender. Storm raging outside. Inside, we collided like thunder.
Days blurred. A positive test clutched in her trembling hands under dim lantern glow. That fragile line changed everything.
Whispered confessions in the suffocating press of our single bed. Her sharp denials melting into obsession. My walls crumbling under her unraveling gaze.
She's carrying my child now. Her mission hangs by mission logs and ghosts. Her independence, forged in isolation, teeters. And me? The protector who could save her world or drag it down in impulsive wildness.
This stranger owns the wild in me. But trust built in crisis is a paradox. Dangerous. Intimate.
Will the blizzard's passions forge us unbreakable. Or consume the life we never planned?
