Page 20 of Hallowed & Haunted

The admission comes out more miserable and needy than Sander intended, but Niillas’ expression softens. Without a word, he opens his arms in invitation.

Sander doesn’t need to be asked twice. He practically crawls into Niillas’ embrace, pressing as close as he can get while Niillas’ arms wrap around him. The heat radiating from Niillas’ body is incredible, like cuddling up to a furnace, and Sander melts into it with a deep sigh of relief.

“How are you so warm?” Sander murmurs against Niillas’ chest.

“High metabolism.”

Yeah, sure.

But it’s hard to argue when Niillas rubs soothing circles over his back. The motion is hypnotic, calming, and Sander feels hisviolent shivering finally begin to subside. Finally giving in to temptation, Sander slips his hands under Niillas’ shirt, soaking in his warmth and marveling at the feeling of soft skin and solid muscle, and Niillas arranges the sleeping bag around them like a blanket.

“Marta,” Sander says after a while, when he’s warm enough again to form coherent thoughts. “She was real, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“She was also a ghost.”

“My grandma would call her ajábme. A restless dead.”

Sander shudders, but he’s oddly relieved that Niillas doesn’t deny what they saw. He has no idea how he’d cope if Niillas had claimed he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary, that it was only Sander being foolish.

“Thank you,” Sander breathes, voice suddenly choked with unshed tears.

This encounter has been truly dangerous, and it has been close.

As if sensing Sander’s distress, Niillas holds him closer.

“For what?”

“For not lying. About her. About the ghost. And for coming after me.”

“Always,” Niillas replies, so quietly Sander almost doesn’t hear it.

Chapter 6

Niillas

He barely dares to move, afraid of breaking the strange spell that has them in its grip. Sander nestles close to him, his now-warm hands still resting on Niillas’ back and his head leaning against Niillas’ shoulder. But Sander’s face is still too pale, his body still shivering from time to time. Absent-mindedly, Niillas runs a hand through Sander’s soft hair, and his proud captain lets him. Niillas can hardly believe his luck.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Safe.” The last word seems to slip out almost against Sander’s will, and he blushes faintly. The soft hue complements Sander’s hair and makes him look unbearably cute. “How did you get her to leave us alone?”

“Huh?”

“The ghost. Nothing I said seemed to matter to her. But she listened to you.”

Niillas considers his answer carefully. Too much truth might scare Sander, but after what they’ve just been through, lying feels all kinds of wrong.

“My grandma is a woman of many talents and interests. She taught me about the tales of my people and about shamanic traditions.”

“She taught you how to drive away a ghost?”

“Umm—kinda?”

Niillas is no shaman by any means, and he isn’t cut out for the sophisticated rituals and elegant courtesy a shamanic spiritual encounter entails. But how is he supposed to tell Sander that Marta most likely retreated because she was aware that Niillas’ claws could rip her to shreds and send her to whichever unpleasant place her kind gets banished to when it no longer can enter the human realm?

“Kinda?” Sander echoes, but he sounds amused, not angry.