Vivian held her breath, muscles rigid, her heartbeat loud in her ears as they lay hidden on the unmanned fishing boat, pressed flat against the cold, damp wooden deck. She could hear the distant, indistinct murmurs from above—the low rumble of Red Phoenix voices, their sharp barked orders floating through the night air. Beneath her, Noah’s body felt tense, coiled like a spring, ready to react if needed. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe louder than the shallowest whisper.

  The silence stretched interminably, punctuated only by the gentle creak of the boat as it bobbed softly in the dark water. Each minute felt like an hour, each second drawn out by the relentless pounding in her chest. Gradually, the distant sounds faded, the quiet roar of the ocean replacing them. Only when she heard the faint hum of the car engines growing distant and finally fading into silence did she allow herself to exhale shakily.

  “They’re gone,” Vivian whispered, glancing cautiously at Noah.

  Noah let out a ragged breath, his body relaxing abruptly as though a switch had been flipped. He slumped back against the side of the boat, the tension visibly draining from his muscles as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering himself. When he opened them again, Vivian saw the pale pallor beneath his usually composed demeanor, the tight lines around his mouth betraying intense pain he had kept hidden until now.

  “Viv,” he said softly, forcing a small smile, though his eyes looked strained and glassy from pain, “you need to change. You’re going to freeze otherwise. Grab the first aid kit, too.”

  Vivian hesitated only briefly, worry etched deeply into her features as she glanced at the dark, glistening stain spreading rapidly across Noah’s torn shirt sleeve. Without another word, she moved swiftly, retrieving the dry clothes Noah had packed earlier. Turning her back to him, she peeled off her soaked shirt, feeling the bite of icy air immediately prickling her damp skin. Her movements were stiff, hurried as she slipped quickly out of her wet clothes, shivering violently from the cold.

  Noah watched silently from beneath half-lidded eyes, his gaze flickering briefly with interest as Vivian slid her wet bra from her shoulders, pale skin gleaming softly beneath the moonlight. The curve of her back, the subtle flexing of muscles as she quickly changed—it all pulled at him irresistibly. But pain sliced sharply through him again, demanding his attention, forcing him reluctantly away from the enticing view.

  Gritting his teeth, he forced himself upright, reaching for the first aid kit Vivian had placed by his side. Pain jolted viciously up his arm as he gingerly peeled the blood-soaked fabric away from the wound, the material sticking stubbornly to torn flesh. His vision blurred briefly, nausea rising in his stomach as he forced himself to focus.

  Vivian finished dressing quickly, turning back around in dry clothes to find Noah struggling with the first aid supplies. She froze momentarily, eyes widening in alarm at the sight of the raw, deep gashes now openly visible on his arm.

  “Noah—”

  “I’m fine,” Noah mumbled stubbornly, already fumbling with the sterile needle and thread, his movements sluggish from blood loss.

  Vivian quickly closed the distance, gently but firmly taking the needle from his trembling fingers. He couldn’t help but stare at her flatly, “do you know how to stitch a wound?”

  Vivian paused, swallowing hard. “Well, no, but you can walk me through it.”

  “It’s fine, I’ll do it myself—”

  Vivian snapped sharply, voice fierce despite the visible tremor in her hands. “Noah, you’ve asked me to disappear with you, and now I have. It’s not like we can just walk into a hospital every time one of us gets hurt, so I might as well learn. So are you going to teach me or what?”

  He stared, surprise sparking in his pained gaze, then let out a weak laugh, wincing as it jolted him. “Your bedside manner’s terrible.”

  Vivian ignored the quip, focusing entirely on Noah’s arm. Her hands trembled slightly, whether from cold or nerves she wasn’t sure, but she carefully followed Noah’s quiet, measured instructions. She dabbed antiseptic onto his wound, flinching inwardly each time he tensed, though his voice remained calm and steady as he guided her gently.

  “Pinch the edges tight,” Noah coached, breath shallow. “Push the needle through quick, one motion. Good, like that.”

  His voice was patient, almost tender despite the agony clearly written on his pale features. “Push the needle through quick, one smooth motion. Good, just like that.”

  She worked methodically, her stomach churning slightly at the raw flesh beneath her fingertips, forcing herself to stay calm and steady. Each pull of thread stretched her nerves taut, but Noah watched with a faint, appreciative curve to his lips, sweat beading on his ashen skin.

  When she tied off the final stitch, the jagged line stared back—messy. She bit her lip, guilt tugging at her. “I’m sorry, it’s going to scar badly.”

  Noah waved it away dismissively, his voice rough but teasing. “It’s fine. I’ll just get ‘Vivian was here’ tattooed next to it.”

  She shot him a glare, but a reluctant smile tugged free. “At least you can still joke.”

  Carefully, she eased him into a fresh shirt, fingers deft as they worked the buttons. Noah’s head dipped, savoring the quiet closeness—her brow creased in focus, the soft glow tracing her collarbone, lashes casting faint shadows on her flushed cheeks. “Huh,” he murmured, mischief lacing his tired tone, “always figured you’d be taking my clothes off, not putting them on.”

  Vivian ignored the remark pointedly, carefully fastening the last button before finally looking up. Their eyes locked, a charged silence passing between them. His softened, lingering on her face, and warmth bloomed unexpectedly in her chest. He leaned in, forehead pressing to hers, his skin clammy and cold.

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  “What a waste…” he murmured, voice fading, hazy with exhaustion.

  His shoulders slumped, weight sagging into her. “Noah!” she gasped, catching him as he crumpled. “Just… give me a minute,” he breathed, barely audible, before his eyes slid shut, body going slack in her arms.

  She struggled briefly with the weight of him before managing to carefully lower him onto the deck of the boat. The harsh chill of the night seemed to close around them, amplifying her panic as she quickly checked his breathing and pulse. Relief rushed through her when she found both steady—faint, but stable.

  “Dammit, Noah,” she whispered, her voice shaky with residual fear and adrenaline.

  Moving urgently, Vivian pulled the emergency blanket from Noah’s supplies, wrapping it securely around him. Her fingertips brushed his forehead, noting the clammy, unnaturally cool skin beneath her touch. Anxiety tightened painfully in her chest as she recalled the signs of hypothermia. Heart pounding, she desperately tried to recall something she’d read years ago about shared body heat being critical for warmth.

  She hesitated only a fraction of a second, aware of the implications, before decisively beginning to remove Noah’s shirt, fumbling with the buttons she'd just recently done up herself. Her cheeks burned, breath coming faster as each layer came off, exposing Noah's muscular physique marked by fresh wounds and bloodied bandages. Her heart twisted at the visible reminder of what he’d endured tonight, the sacrifice he'd made for her.

  Vivian steeled herself, forcing her embarrassment aside as she stripped away the last of his wet clothing, leaving Noah completely bare beneath the blanket. She quickly undressed herself down to her underwear, shivering violently as the cold air bit into her skin, and slipped beneath the blanket, pressing herself tightly against Noah’s chilled body.

  Her breath caught sharply at the immediate intimacy, the sensation of his bare skin against hers sending warmth flooding through her despite the frigid surroundings. She hesitated briefly, her body rigid and awkward at the sudden closeness. But reality urged her to push past it, because the truth was if Noah died, she had no one else to turn to. No where else to go.

  With a shaky exhale, she pressed herself even closer, resting her head gently against his chest, listening intently for the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat.

  “Come on, Noah,” she murmured softly, more to herself than him, “please be okay.”

  Gradually, Vivian felt Noah’s violent shivering subside, the slight warmth beginning to return to his skin beneath her fingertips. Relief began to ease the knot of tension inside her chest as his breathing steadied into something stronger, deeper.

  She murmured quietly to Noah, more to soothe herself than him, “You’re going to be okay. We both are.” Her eyelids drooped despite her determination to stay awake, her voice trailing into silence as fatigue slowly sank in.

  Suddenly, Noah stirred beside her, murmuring weakly in a delirious, semi-conscious state.

  “You always did run…straight into trouble, Doll Face.”

  Vivian froze, a sharp jolt of shock slicing through her. Her eyes snapped open, heart skipping a beat. Doll Face. Wasn’t that the the nickname from that night? The memory Noah had insisted was drug-induced, a figment of her imagination. But the familiarity, the quiet intimacy of his voice, made her blood run cold. Her mind raced chaotically, confusion and suspicion mingling fiercely within her.

  Before she could fully process it, Noah’s eyes fluttered open and seemed to look right at her. He blinked, stared at her with hazy eyes and spoke again, his voice delirious, yet laced with a dark possessiveness that sent chills down her spine. “If anyone else sees you like this, I’ll kill them…”

  Vivian’s cheeks burned, embarrassment mingling with confusion and fear. She glanced nervously up at Noah, his eyes had closed again, expression dazed. He was clearly half-conscious, unaware of what he was revealing.

  He murmured again, softer now, words slurred by exhaustion, faintly flirtatious despite the grim circumstances. “Skin-to-skin’s supposed to help, right? Might need… more contact…”

  Vivian flushed even deeper, heart thudding painfully against her ribs. Despite everything, despite her embarrassment and confusion, she tightened her arms around him, determinedly focusing only on keeping him warm, alive. A part of her was almost smiling. Even half dead, Noah was annoying.

  Gradually, Noah’s murmurs quietened into soft breathing as he slipped back into unconsciousness, his face pale yet peaceful. Vivian remained pressed close, her body trembling faintly from cold and emotional turmoil. She struggled the blanket tighter around the both of them before tightening her hold around him. Before long, exhaustion crashed over her, heavy and relentless, dragging her eyes shut despite her best efforts to stay awake.

  *****

  When Noah stirred around an hour later, consciousness crept back in slow, heavy pulses. He was warm, almost comfortable. He could smell the salt from the ocean, damp wood, and something else, something sweet, intoxicating. He moved his head a little, and felt a tickle on his skin. Hair? A person? He felt someone’s arms, wrapped tightly around him.

  His eyes opened slightly. Vivian was sleeping beside him, her face was turned into the nook between his neck and shoulder, her arms wrapped around him. The emergency blanket holding them both together. Her skin was a searing warmth against his chilled frame, the curve of her breasts soft through her cotton bra against his ribs.

  A low, rough sound rumbled in his throat, primal and unbidden, as her warmth bled into him, sparking a tight, restless ache low in his gut. His breath caught, sharp and ragged, as his gaze dropped to her—down to her plain cotton underwear, skin glinting in the moonlight like a quiet dare.

  He lingered, eyes tracing her slow and greedily —the curve of her waist melting into shadow, the gentle swell of her breasts pressed to him, her breath grazing his skin. A bead of sweat traced her throat, and his tongue brushed his teeth, hungry for the tang of her, his hands twitching to glide down her spine, to tug her closer. The thoughts made him harden beside her, despite the biting cold.

  He drank her in, gaze roaming. Pain pulsed in his arm, a dull gnaw against the heat she stirred, but it only honed his focus. Breathing softly beside him, she was his, stripped bare and vulnerable, tangled up with him in this mess.

  A dark, possessive edge simmered, to keep her his. To kill anyone who ever even thought to see her like this. To keep her near and beside him for as long as he breathed. She’d thrown herself into this for him, and as far as he was concerned, that knotted them up tighter than ever.

  Careful not to rouse her or shift the blanket too much, he tested his limbs—soreness throbbed, fatigue a dead weight. He scanned the boat: water, rations, a burner phone stashed in a dry bag. His eyes flicked to the horizon, gray seeping into black—dawn loomed, hours off but closing fast. They couldn’t linger.

  He glanced at her again, reluctance biting deep. Waking her would snap this moment, her fragility, the heat of her skin he craved like a shot of something strong. But he traced their escape in his head: south, a safe house to disappear into, an emergency car to retrieve. His mind churned, carving their path to safety, ensuring she’d wake to motion, not doubt.

  For now, he let it hang. The quiet pressed thick, her warmth a shield against his battered frame. He savored it—the press of her flesh, the faint catch in her breath, the weight of her against him. He let himself lean into her hair, taking in the scent of her. His hands found her waist, savoring the softness of her skin.

  It was a stolen breath in their brutal night, her near-nakedness a line he’d staked out. Soon, they’d bolt again, but for these fleeting moments, he kept her in his sights, etching every detail—the slope of her shoulder, the faint press of her against her skin, the way she fit him like she’d always been there.

  Then, with a quiet resolve, he brushed her shoulder, voice a low rasp. “Viv… time to go.”