Chapter 381: The Thawing of Celeste Vance

"Saving your ass from hypothermia. You’re welcome."

I kept a few careful inches between us, not wanting to push my luck too far, too fast. This was a delicate balance—close enough to share warmth, far enough to maintain the illusion of propriety.

"Look, I’m not going to jump you or try anything stupid. Just trying to keep us both alive until morning. Scout’s honor."

She studied my face for a long, searching moment, those pale blue eyes scanning for any hint of deception or ulterior motive. Then, slowly, like ice beginning to thaw, she relaxed her rigid posture. "Fine. But only because it’s necessary."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Princess."

I carefully put my arm around her shoulders, and predictably, she tensed all over again, her whole body going stiff like I’d touched her with a live wire before gradually leaning into my side.

Her skin was cool to the touch, almost cold, but impossibly smooth beneath my palm. Silk wrapped around steel.

"You’re warm," she murmured, surprised by the observation. Like she’d expected me to be as cold as the cave around us.

"One of my many talents. I’m a regular space heater."

Being this close to her was... distracting in ways I hadn’t fully anticipated. Her hair smelled like winter flowers, something expensive and subtle and undoubtedly imported that shouldn’t have survived our trek through literal hell but somehow did.

Her body was a living contradiction pressed against mine—soft, feminine curves layered over the lean, corded muscle of someone who trained daily, who’d sculpted their body into a weapon as much as a work of art.

"You can stop tensing up like I’m going to bite you," I said after a minute of feeling her rigid posture. "Relax. I’m not a vampire, despite what the lighting in here might suggest."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered. "This isn’t exactly a situation covered in my etiquette classes."

"What, ’How to Cuddle with a Zero in Underwear While Trapped in an Interdimensional Death Garden’ wasn’t in the curriculum? I’m shocked."

That got a genuine laugh from her, a sound that bounced around the small cavern.

"There we go," I said, feeling the vibration of her amusement against my side. "The Ice Princess can laugh after all."

The warmth in her posture evaporated instantly. "Don’t call me that."

"Why not? I thought it fit. The whole ice-blonde hair, regal bearing, emotionally distant thing you’ve got going on—"

"Because it’s what the tabloids call me," she cut me off, her voice sharp enough to slice. "It’s what people who don’t actually know me call me. What they whisper behind their champagne flutes at galas while they evaluate my market value as a marriage prospect or a political alliance."

"Fair enough," I conceded. "So what do your actual friends call you? The people who give a shit about you beyond your last name and your ranking?"

The silence that followed was telling. She shifted slightly against me, and I felt her shoulders tense again.

"I don’t really have friends besides Noah," she admitted finally, her voice gone quiet in that particular way that people get when they’re confessing something they’re ashamed of. "I have allies. Acquaintances. People my sister has vetted and approved of for various strategic purposes. A carefully curated social circle that looks impressive on paper."

"Jesus Christ. That’s fucking depressing, Princess."

She shrugged against my side. "It’s reality. The Vance name comes with certain expectations."

"Well, what does Monica call you?"

"Celeste. Just Celeste." She paused. "Though lately she’s started calling me Cel sometimes."

"Cel," I tested the name. "I like it. Sounds almost normal."

"Normal is... underrated," she said, her voice soft.

"Easy to say when you’ve never been ordinary."

She turned to look at me, her face closer to mine than I was prepared for. "And you have?"

I laughed. "Princess, I was the definition of ordinary before all this. A zero. Literal human garbage."

"I don’t believe that."

"You should. That’s exactly what your sister’s organization categorized me as."

Her blue eyes studied mine. "There’s nothing ordinary about you, Satori Nakano."

"You’re just saying that because I’m currently your only hope of survival," I deflected.

"No," she said simply. "I’m saying it because it’s true."

The purple fire crackled between us, casting shadows across her face. Her eyes reflected the flames, turning them into pools of violet light.

I moved without thinking, leaning forward slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t. Instead, her eyes widened slightly before drifting shut.

My hand came up to her cheek, my thumb brushing across skin so soft it seemed impossible.

"This is probably the dumbest thing I’ve done all day," I whispered. "And I fought a glowing river monster."

She laughed, a small puff of air against my lips. "Just today? Not your whole life?"

"The day’s not over yet."

Her face tilted up toward mine, guided by my hand. I could feel her pulse racing under my fingertips, matching the hammering in my own chest.

For a second, the universe narrowed down to just this—her breath mixing with mine, the warmth where our skin touched.

Then she pulled back suddenly, her eyes dropping. "We should try to get some sleep. No telling what other fun surprises the Arborist has planned for tomorrow."

I blinked, the moment shattered. "Right. Sleep. Good call."

Way to go, dumbass. What were you thinking?

"I’ll take first watch," I offered.

"We both know you won’t wake me for my turn," she said, seeing right through me.

"Sue me for being chivalrous."

"That’s not the word I’d use." She yawned, her eyelids growing heavy. "Wake me in four hours. I mean it."

"Yes, ma’am."

She rested her head against my shoulder, and within minutes her breathing slowed and deepened. I stared into the purple flames, trying to sort through the mess in my head.

I looked down at her sleeping face, peaceful in a way it never was when she was awake. Her lashes cast delicate shadows across her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted.

"You’re going to be trouble," I whispered.

In her sleep, she moved closer, one arm draping across my chest as she sought out warmth. I carefully adjusted my position to accommodate her without waking her up.

The purple fire burned steadily, casting our shadows against the cave wall—two half-dressed idiots huddled together against the dark.

I sighed and settled in for a long night of watching the tunnel entrance, the fire, and the sleeping princess beside me.

Some scumbag I was turning out to be.