Page 4 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

C hristian turned off the paved road and onto the gravel stretch winding along the river.

His knuckles flexed once on the steering wheel before relaxing again.

Behind them, the hospital faded into memory.

Ahead, the late Alaskan spring unfolded—barren and waking, the kind of in-between season that never really promised safety.

Snow still lingered in the shadows of the tree line, like the last remnants of a threat not quite done with them.

Bare birch trunks reached into a sky the color of wet slate, and the Dalika River ran swollen and fast beside the road.

He eased the truck through a muddy bend and cut left, tires crunching against frozen gravel and away from the main river.

Another half mile brought them to Amka’s land.

Tika snored happily in the back seat, spreading out like he owned the vehicle.

Amka's cabin rose out of the ground like it belonged there in two stories of weathered log and green metal roofing, tucked at the edge of a thicket where the forest would someday reclaim everything.

The place had a comfortable vibe. Welcoming.

However, it was way too exposed and would be easy to infiltrate.

He killed the engine.

Amka shifted beside him. Even that small movement made her wince.

He didn’t like the wince. “You said that Doc May cleared you except for the bruises and that your rib might be cracked.” He spoke without looking at her, his gaze still pinned to the cabin where a small curl of chimney smoke drifted above the roof.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Amka said, her voice hoarse but steady. Her fingers brushed a streak of soot from her thigh. “I got ash all over the truck.” She shivered as if unable to warm up. It was probably the shock setting in. “I’m sorry. I smell like a firepit.”

He turned his head slowly. “No. You don’t.”

She blinked at him.

“You smell like cloudberry.” The second the statement left his mouth, he wanted to take it back and bury it under the permafrost. What was that?

Amka tilted her face toward him. Eyes dark, rimmed with red from smoke or emotion. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail that had mostly come loose. “Cloudberry?”

Hell. He was already in. Might as well commit. “Yeah. Like apricot, amber, and rose. Sort of wild. A little sharp.” He cleared his throat. “Even after the fire.” Why was he still talking?

She watched him. Not blinking. Not smiling. “I think that’s sweet.”

Sweet? No. He didn’t know how to even think about being sweet. Even to someone like her. He huffed out a breath, half a laugh, more a self-directed curse. “Don’t misread me or see anything that isn’t here.”

A silence settled between them, heavy but not awkward. More like the land itself had leaned in to listen. He shifted in his seat, trying not to think about how she’d taste if she really did smell like that fruit. Bright, tart. Maybe sweet around the edges.

Jesus, he had to stop.

“Christian?” Her voice barely reached him. Tentative.

He hated that. The hesitation. The uncertainty that curled around his name like she was afraid of him. Which, honestly, made sense. Most people were.

He was a damn menace—tall enough to block out sunlight and with a face that looked like it had seen one too many nights without rest. He didn’t talk much, didn’t care to be seen, didn’t trust easy.

Crowds made his skin itch. Noise made him leave.

And people? Most of them weren’t worth the oxygen they burned.

Still, he tried. Plastered on something neutral and turned to face her, aware that he took up more than his share of space in the cab. His voice came out rougher than he meant. “What is it?”

Her long lashes, pure and natural black, fluttered against the pale skin beneath her eyes. “Thank you. For saving my life.”

That caught him off guard. Not the words because he’d been thanked before. But not like that. Not quiet. Not raw.

Something about her saying thank you tugged at him. Not quite enough to pull a smile, but his mouth twitched, traitorous. “You probably could’ve saved yourself, darlin’.”

She stilled. “You do that a lot.”

He paused. “Do what?”

“Use endearments.” She tilted her head, studying him. Really studying him. “But not as a compliment. More like to distance yourself. You very rarely call me by my name.”

He kept control of his body, like usual, and didn’t shift in the seat. Nobody got beneath his skin and saw the real him. They’d go running, screaming if they did. But Amka had always had a way about her. Intuitive. If he believed in magic, she’d have it.

He couldn’t figure out what it was about her that got past his armor. Maybe it was the way their drive from town had been filled with silence, and not the awkward kind. The good kind. Like she understood that not every second needed noise. That sometimes, silence was its own language.

She let out a breath, easy, like she wasn’t going to press him. “Would you like to come in for an early supper? It’s the least I can do.”

His gut tightened. Food sounded good. Her cooking even better. But it wasn’t hunger pulling at him, it was the invitation. The warmth behind it. The door she was cracking open. Being in her presence, just around her, somehow provided a quiet peace. One he couldn’t figure out.

He looked at the cabin, sharp-eyed. Everyone knew that she and her fiancé didn’t live together, which was another thing he didn’t understand.

If she were his woman, he’d never leave her alone out here.

Not with wild animals around, not with unstable terrain, and definitely not with men like him on the prowl.

He’d be protective, possessive, and probably a complete pain in the ass.

Which, yeah, probably explained why he didn’t have a woman.

Or shouldn’t.

Her front door opened, and Jarod Teller stepped out.

Whatever Christian had meant to say dried up before the words got anywhere near his mouth.

“Oh.” Amka started. “Jarod’s here.”

Why did she sound surprised to find Jarod at her place? They were engaged.

Christian opened his door. Amka scrambled out fast, hopping down and slamming hers like she was afraid he’d try to carry her again.

Jarod’s eyes scanned her up and down as he walked toward them, his boots leaving imprints in the light mud. “What happened to you?”

Christian moved without thinking, rounding the front of the truck and planting himself just slightly closer to her side. Not protective. Just...close by.

She hesitated a beat. “The building we used for storage blew up. I was in it and Christian helped me get out.”

Jarod’s gaze cut to Christian. “What were you doing in there?”

Christian didn’t answer right away and let the silence do some of the work.

He watched Amka’s fiancé—six feet tall, maybe—shift under the weight of it.

The guy had brown hair and wore a white button-down shirt that still had creases from a hanger.

His eyes never quite landed on anything for long.

“I wasn’t in the explosion,” Christian said.

“You don’t look like you went fishing today. ”

Jarod glanced down at his pressed shirt. “No. I had several Zoom meetings.” He stepped closer to Amka and reached for her arm. “Are you all right?”

Pink crept into her cheeks. “Yes. I’m fine,” she said, then hesitated. “There was an accelerant used, we’re pretty sure.”

Jarod’s eyebrows lifted. “Seriously? Someone deliberately set your building on fire?”

She gave a small shrug. “I guess. I don’t know. But it spread fast.”

Jarod looked over at Christian. “And you…what? Helped put it out?”

Amka shifted her weight, eyes flicking between them. “Christian saved me.”

Jarod slid an arm around Amka’s shoulders and tugged her close.

She breathed in sharply.

Christian’s jaw locked.

“Thank you for that,” Jarod said. “I guess I owe you one.”

They didn’t look right together. Or maybe Christian just didn’t want them to, although he didn’t want any part of a relationship, so why did he care? “You’re hurting her arm.”

Jarod stared at him.

Amka gave a soft cough, then angled her body slightly away from the pressure, though Jarod didn’t drop his arm. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I think I landed on it. Doc says I’m just bruised.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Jarod didn’t move. His brown gaze stayed locked on Christian. “Well then, thanks for bringing her home.”

Amka looked at the ground, then back up at Christian. “Thanks for saving my life.”

He gave a small nod, unsure what to do with the words now that she’d said them again—with him standing here, and Jarod’s arm still draped over her like a claim. The air between them thickened.

“I’ll check in with Brock and see what he knows,” Christian said. “There were enough folks in town earlier today that somebody had to have seen something.” Maybe. Hopefully whoever had set the explosive hadn’t wanted to hurt Amka specifically. Either way, Christian would figure it out.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve got her.” Jarod tugged Amka closer again like he couldn’t help himself.

She stiffened and tried not to show it. But her face went pale at the pressure.

Christian kept his gaze on her. “If you need anything, call me.”

“You got a phone now?” Jarod asked.

“Yeah,” Christian muttered. “I’ve got a phone.

” His brothers had made sure of that. He kept it off most of the time.

Not because he was hiding anything, but because he didn’t want people knowing where he was every second of the day.

GPS, Bluetooth, cell tower triangulation—Christian wasn’t paranoid, just experienced.

Amka had the number. He’d given it to her weeks ago, just in case.

Not that she was his business.

Still.

“Well, that’s good,” Jarod drawled. “One of my Zoom meetings was with investors. Thinking about rebuilding the motel now that tourism’s picking up. Since you’re unemployed, I’m willing to hire you as a day laborer. You could handle construction, right?”

“Jarod.” Amka pressed a hand to his ribs as if trying to create space.

Jarod just smiled like she’d said something cute. “What? I’m trying to help.”

Christian’s skin heated at the base of his neck. Yeah, if she were his, he’d be possessive, too, but he wouldn’t hurt her. Of course, he’d try to cover her in bubble wrap and probably drive her crazy, which also wouldn’t work. “I don’t need your job.”

Jarod chuckled. “Come on, Christian. You’re unemployed, and you must be tired of sleeping in the forest. With a little extra money, you could rent a room somewhere. Live like a human.”

Christian forced a smile. Not a real one because he didn’t feel that. But he knew how to flash his teeth when necessary. Satisfaction that he’d regret later rolled through him from the sudden awareness in Jarod’s eyes. The same look prey caught when a hunter came near.

Amka’s chin lifted. “I’m sure Christian will seek employment if and when he wants. For now, I assume it’s nice to be back home and living with such freedom.”

Jarod lost his smirk.

Something warmed in Christian’s chest. How could any one person be so fucking sweet? Jarod sure as shit didn’t deserve her. Neither did Christian. There probably wasn’t anyone on the planet who deserved such an angel. Yeah, if rose-colored glasses existed, he was wearing them.

Then, because he couldn’t help himself, Christian gave Amka the faintest wink.

Not playful. Just…a reminder. That she had options.

Temporary ones, anyway. “Call me if you need anything.” He turned, boots crunching the gravel as he moved around the front of the truck.

Then he climbed in without looking back.

Tika stared at him from the back seat. The pup’s head tilted, ears half-cocked.

“I know,” Christian muttered, pulling the door shut. “I know.”