The Billionaire’s Baby(33)

Quite unsure whether to be offended or flattered by what he'd said, she settled on continuing her glare at him – better safe than sorry.

Icy fingers abruptly brushed against her wrist as he adjusted himself slightly at her side, causing Nia to quickly sit up, curling her small legs under her, turning a bit away from him to hide her growing blush.

She fussed with her hair, taking the thick braid across her shoulder and untying the cerulean ribbon that had been tied around it, the thick, curly red locks spreading across her back as she gently unbraided it, running her fingers through it in an attempt to get out the knots and leaves out – distracting herself for as long as possible from the young man at her side.

Ellis watched curiously, reaching up and curling a few strands around one of his fingers. She snatched her hair away his grasp quickly, still not looking at him, carefully beginning to rebraid it tightly before securing it back with the ribbon.

Eventually, she glanced over her shoulder at him, blushing again as he patted the small space next to him.

She slowly lay back down, stubbornly facing the ceiling so they were scrunched shoulder to shoulder, studying the tree roots that she could see lining his earthen roof.

She felt his cold touch again, this time more purposely running down one of her arms. She drew back from him, almost falling off the bed.

"The deal was I'd sleep next to you, not that I'd let you touch me!" She hissed.

He rolled over onto his side, looking her in the face, his eyes unusually soft, and very serious.

"Just a little." He whispered, "I promise I'll stop after just a little."

She fell silent, eyes focused on his in faint confusion. Slowly, his fingers barely brushed up her arm, ghosting across the base of her neck and the line of her jaw.

She quickly turned her face away, blushing again in embarrassment, trying to ignore the faint trail of goosebumps that his fingers left in their trail, how her skin feeling strangely heated even underneath his arctic touch.

His inquisitive eyes stayed locked on her, trying to remember if his own skin had ever felt as soft and warm as hers did. He wondered if his mother’s eyes had been green like Nia’s, or perhaps they’d been blue.

It’d been too long to remember it clearly now.

His fingers journeyed carefully down her arm again, careful not to touch her too much, all the way to her hands. He felt them carefully, memorizing the soft outside and the slightly calloused palms.

"What made these?" He asked quietly, fingers gently running across the roughened spots of on the inside of her palm.

"Archery." Her voice was quiet as well.

She was more peaceful and relaxed now, he observed, no longer apprehensive. She did not understand his obsession with touching her, but she could see behind his slightly gloomy expression that he had a reason. She would never understand his longing to feel outside warmth when it felt like his entire being was made of ice, save for a few battling, heated inches around his heart.

He nodded, falling silent, moving away from her hands. Her warmth was addicting to him, he couldn't get enough of it. He could vaguely remember being human himself and being this temperature, but it wasn't until he touched her that he could remember exactly what it felt like. It was a nice, comforting feeling.

Being around her let him feel like a real person again – not an undead, bloodthirsty, zombie-like creature who preyed on innocents. Though, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy his scary status.

Hesitatingly, he allowed his whole hand to touch her side, feeling her skin through her shirt. She flinched back just slightly and he withdrew instantly, looking into her pursed-lipped face. She didn't open her eyes though, slowly relaxing again, and his hand inched determinedly back against her shirt covered flesh, coming to a rest on top of her stomach before softly bringing her up and into his chest. She curled, reflexively, against the warmth in his chest and the faint scent of earthy potatoes.

"Why were you wandering around in the forest?" He questioned with a sincere gentleness that had not graced his lips in years, both of his hands pressed flat against her, as though he could absorb her warmth.

"It’s silly…" She began, trailing off.

He couldn't ignore the sleepy drawl in her voice, "Tell me anyways."

Her fatigue was contagious, he realized, as he yawned.

"It's a prophecy thing." Her voice was low in slight embarrassment.

He smirked, "You humans are so strange, relying on other people to tell you how your future will be."

Nia didn't answer, hiding her face against him, she was unsure what to do with her hands, and in the end, awkwardly held them pinned against her chest.

He watched her with a faint, curious smile, "What prophecy sent you out in the middle of a forest all on your own to get eaten?"