Page 25 of First Snow

Something touches his neck. Arttu jerks back, but before he can retreat, hands grab his shirt and close around his wrist. Yelping, Arttu tries to pull away, but is dragged backwards.

“Don’t touch him,” Faeling growls, suddenly close.

Arttu has no idea what’s happening, but Faeling makes whoever snatched Arttu let go and pulls him away from the grabbing hands. Heart beating frantically, he still can’t see a thing. But Faeling wraps him into his arms and presses a soft kiss into his hair, caressing his back.

“It’s okay, they’re gone,” Faeling whispers. “There’s a door on the other side of the cabin. It’s closed now. I guess that’s the point where someone could get separated from the group.”

“Who said something about being separated?” Arttu asks in alarm.

“Didn’t you read the waiver you signed?”

“No one reads that. Wait, did you?”

He can practically hear Faeling’s frown. “Of course I did. And you should’ve too. Dammit, Arttu, you’re reckless, but I’ll see to it that these guys don’t scare you again.”

Arttu shudders. Faeling sounds deadly serious, no longer teasing like before. And to his chagrin, Arttu finds Faeling’s protectiveness flattering.

“Okay,” he manages. “I’m not scared, though.” Despite his words, Arttu doesn’t make a move to disentangle himself from Faeling. The thought of being alone in the darkness again makes him uncomfortable.

“Whatever you say, darling.”

They stand in the dark for several minutes and Arttu wonders what this is supposed to mean. Are these idiots debating what to do with them? Have all other players been pulled out of the cabin by this point and Faeling has somehow managed to beat the game? The thought is disturbing and pretty hot at the same time.

“What are they waiting for?” Arttu grumbles, when he can’t take it anymore.

Faeling chuckles.

“Takes them a little to admit defeat. Don’t worry.”

The words have barely left Faeling’s mouth when the cabin rattles and the lights come to life again.

“See?” Faeling sounds unbearably smug.

The elevator continues its descent and it takes only seconds until they’ve reached their destination. The doors open and Arttu tenses. But instead of another bleak corridor, they look into a nicely furnished living room. Toby, their game master, sits in a plush armchair and smiles at Faeling.

“The two of you beat the clock. Congratulations, you survived the haunting of Corvin Manor. Take a seat and wait for the rest of your team.”

Faeling sits down on the couch and pulls Arttu with him. Almost landing on Faeling’s lap, Arttu allows Faeling to guide him into a comfortable position. He leans his head against Faeling’s shoulder, sighing deeply. A sudden wave of exhaustion washes over him.

Half dozing, Arttu pays little attention to Toby’s valiant attempts to make small talk. He knows that he’s a bad conversationalist, as per usual. Nevertheless, Faeling remains focused on him. Why does the first interesting man he’s met in years have to be a serial killer?

He’s snapped out of his contented state when a door at the back of the room opens and a bickering group of people comes trampling in. Arttu’s relief at seeing Emily and her friends lasts only a heartbeat before he recognises the man Emily is currently arguing with.

“What’s he doing here?” Arttu hisses and rises from his relaxed position at Faeling’s side.

“Lord Briar, hello,” Faeling drawls. “Did you bring a bodyguard for good measure today? Greetings to you too, Mr. Lemaire.”

Arttu only now registers the black-haired man hovering at Briar’s side. Approximately as tall as Arttu himself, he’s wearing an expensive suit and sunglasses. What an idiot.

The man turns in Faeling’s direction, a frown forming on his face. “Mr. Faeling, what a pleasure to meet you,” he says, all false sweetness. Arttu can make out the hint of an accent he can’t quite place. French, maybe, judging by his name, but Arttu can’t be sure.

“Jesus, you need a babysitter for an escape game?” Emily snarls.

Lord Briar eyes her with an unhappy expression. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt which make him appear younger than Arttu would have guessed at the club. Like this, he fits in with Emily and her friends. If it weren’t for the bodyguard, that is.

“I’m here with my friends,” Briar defends and gestures to three guys, none of which Arttu recognizes from the night before. To his surprise, they look quite ordinary and are mingling with the others. One of them is even engrossed in conversation with Martha and Jake.

“You wouldn’t have found your way out without us.” Martha laughs.