Chapter 5

The next morning, Cato appeared beside the bed with another bowl of porridge. Eve looked at it, then at him, her jaw set in a stubborn line. She wasn't going to make a scene today. She would eat, because she had to. But she wasn't going to like it.

Cato lifted the spoon to her lips. Eve opened her mouth and swallowed. Perhaps it was the tension in her throat, the way her body still rebelled against accepting anything from him-but the thick porridge caught awkwardly, triggering a violent spasm. Immediately, she started coughing. The angle was fine; it was her own resistance that choked her.

The coughing fit was a disaster. Every hack sent shockwaves through her broken ribs and shattered legs. The pain was blinding, stealing her breath. She gasped, her face turning red, then pale, cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

She glared up at Cato through the tears in her eyes, blaming him entirely for the design of the human esophagus.

Cato set the bowl down on the stool. He stood up, looking down at her for a long moment. Then, without a word of warning, he stepped to the side of the bed and leaned over her.

Eve's heart lurched into her throat. "What are you-"

He slid one arm under her neck and the other under the small of her back, his strength focused in a way that seemed to defy anatomy, completely avoiding the cage of her broken ribs. With a smooth, powerful motion, he hoisted her upper body off the mattress.

"Stop! Let me go!" she yelled, panic making her voice shrill. But her body was useless; she couldn't push him away. His arms were like iron bands, completely immovable, yet somehow avoiding every major injury on her torso.

Instead of propping her against the wall, Cato sat down on the edge of the bed. He shifted her weight, adjusting her body until her back was supported by his solid chest. It wasn't a flush press; he held her with such control that her injured spine and ribs barely made contact, suspended by the strength in his arms and torso. He settled himself against the headboard, creating a living backrest out of his own body.

Eve froze. Every nerve ending in her body fired at once. She was pressed against him. She could feel the hard slabs of muscle beneath his thin shirt, the steady, slow rhythm of his heartbeat against her shoulder blades, and the intense heat radiating from his body. It was like leaning against a furnace.

She could smell him. He didn't smell like the other laborers-no stale sweat or filth. He smelled of pine needles, crushed herbs, and dry wood, mixed with the crisp scent of the outdoors. It was clean. Wild.

A strange shiver ran down her spine, a confusing mix of revulsion and something else she refused to name. She hadn't been this close to another human being in years.

Cato reached for the bowl, his arm brushing against hers as he scooped up the porridge. He brought the spoon to her lips again.

Eve was so stunned by the sheer audacity of the situation that she forgot to argue. She opened her mouth mechanically. The porridge went down much easier this time. The angle was perfect. He held her securely, taking the strain off her neck and ribs.

He fed her in silence, his breathing slow and even. Eve ate, but she couldn't focus on the food. Her entire world had narrowed down to the points of contact between them. The steady thump of his heart against her back was a metronome, slowly syncing with her own frantic pulse.

The heat from his body seeped into her aching muscles, loosening the knots of tension she hadn't even realized she was carrying. The constant, deep chill that had lived in her bones since the Frostbound Abyss began to thaw.

When the bowl was empty, Cato set it aside. Eve braced herself for him to push her back onto the mattress, but he didn't. He just sat there, holding her against his chest in the quiet room.

The exhaustion she had been fighting for days crashed over her like a wave. The pain was still there, but it was muffled, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing. She didn't feel safe-the very idea was ludicrous. But her body, a traitorous vessel of meat and bone, recognized a source of immense, unshakeable stability. It was not safety, but a forced calm, like a wild animal cornered by a creature so powerful it knows struggling is futile. Her mind was still screaming alarms, but her body had already surrendered to the overwhelming physical reality of his presence.

She tried to summon the energy to struggle, to tell him to let her go, but her limbs felt like they were filled with lead. Her eyelids drooped.

Don't fall asleep, she ordered herself. Don't let your guard down.

But his heartbeat was a lullaby she couldn't ignore. Her eyes drifted shut, and she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, cradled against the chest of the silent laborer.