The lodge came back into view; its wooden frame warmly lit against the backdrop of pale snow and slate-gray skies. The fire pits outside flickered in the cold, and the scent of pine smoke hung thick in the air as Richard and Maya stepped off the trail.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Maya's cheeks were flushed from the cold and the long walk, but there was a glint of something calm in her eyes now. She hadn't said much during their walk, and Richard hadn't pushed. He simply observed, as always—every shift in her posture, every wordless moment.

When they reached the door, Richard opened it for her. Maya murmured a thank you as they stepped inside. The warmth hit instantly, and the quiet hum of soft jazz played in the background of the lodge's lounge.

"You should change," Richard said, his tone cool, businesslike again. "Dinner is at seven. We'll be eating downstairs with the board reps."

"Okay," she nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Thank you... for the walk."

He said nothing, only watched her go.

Back in her room, Maya changed into a deep navy dress that hugged her modestly, pairing it with a simple necklace. She wasn't used to events like this, even though this wasn't technically one. Still, Richard had made it clear—this trip was for business. She had to act like it.

No matter how close he stood.

Downstairs, the dining hall was elegant but not overwhelming. Candlelit tables, the smell of grilled meat and warm bread. Richard was already seated at a table near the far end when she arrived, reviewing something on his tablet.

She approached quietly. He looked up, and for just a breath of a moment, he paused. Not visibly, not to anyone else. But Maya noticed.

"Sit," he said simply.

"Yes, sir."

Dinner passed in polite conversation, most of it with the two company reps seated with them. Maya barely spoke, only when addressed, but Richard didn't miss how she carefully avoided touching any part of the table he leaned on.

He realized she was keeping her distance.

When the plates were cleared and the other men left, Richard rose. "Let's return to the lounge. I need to go over the itinerary for tomorrow."

Maya followed, notebook in hand, but the lounge was quiet and near empty. They took a couch by the fire.

He handed her a list. Their shoulders nearly touched.

She tensed slightly, and he noticed. She always noticed when he was too close.

"You're uncomfortable," he said.

"No, not at all," she lied, smiling weakly.

He didn't look at her when he said, "I make people sick, you know."

Her head turned sharply. "Sir?"

"When I'm around people too long."

Maya stared.

He finally met her gaze. "You haven't. Not once."

She tried to laugh, a shaky thing. "Maybe I am stronger sir."

"Maybe."

She looked down at her hands, suddenly unsure how to hold them.

The fire cracked. The warmth filled the space between them. His gaze hadn't left her.

Maya dared to glance back at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

He was silent.

Then, a voice barely above a whisper: "Because I want to know what you are."

Her heart jumped.

Before she could answer—or even process what he'd said—a loud crash from the hallway broke the moment.

Both of them stood instantly. A staff member apologized, bowing repeatedly after having knocked over a wine rack.

Richard turned to Maya. "We're done for tonight. Get some rest."

She nodded, stunned.

And as he walked away, she stood frozen by the fire, her fingers slightly trembling, unsure if it was from the cold or from something else entirely.

She made her way back to her room, the corridors of the lodge seeming longer than before. Her heels echoed against the polished wood floors, but her mind was loudest. What did he mean? What did he think she was?

Maya rubbed her arms. Maybe he was just weird. Brilliant, intense, unreadable—but weird. Or maybe he was testing her. Maybe this was all still a strange extension of her final test from the heavens, and she was flunking it in slow motion.

In her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the edge of the duvet. She replayed the moment by the fire over and over—his voice, his stillness, the way his eyes hadn't once wavered from hers.

That look. It wasn't cold. It wasn't professional. It had made something flutter low in her chest in a way that scared her.

She should've shown symptoms by now, Richard mumbled under his breath, almost frozen still sitting on the couch.

He wasn't a fool. He'd seen humans react to him all his life—subtly, instinctively—like animals sensing something ancient and dangerous. But Maya... Maya smiled at him. She flinched for normal reasons. She got clumsy, not sick. Her warmth lingered after a touch instead of fading into chills.

Richard was clouded with thoughts as he made his way to his suite meanwhile the lodge had gone still, wrapped in the hush of snowfall. Maya lay in bed, eyes open, the room dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp on her nightstand.

The fire in her hearth had died down, leaving only a dull warmth and the occasional crackle. Her fingers clutched the edge of the comforter as if it might anchor her mind.

Across the lodge, in the suite above hers, Richard stood barefoot on the glass balcony, arms resting on the railing. Snow gathered silently on the rail, melting against his skin. He didn't seem to feel it. The mountains stretched beyond like sleeping giants, their peaks vanishing into the thickening snow clouds.

His thoughts were tangled. Maya hadn't flinched. Not once. Not during the walk. Not by the fire. Not even when their hands brushed for a second too long. Humans recoiled from him. Mythical beings shied away in instinct. But she—

She didn't know.

She couldn't know.

He exhaled, fogging the glass in front of him as he stepped back inside. The heat greeted him like a stranger. The suite was warm, modern in design but softened by wood and stone. But it felt like a shell tonight. Too quiet. Too thoughtful.

Downstairs, Maya hadn't moved. Her fingers fidgeted with the threads of the blanket as she stared at the ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face in the firelight—something unreadable in his gaze. Something that pulled at her in a way she didn't understand.

She covered her face with the blanket. "You're a trainwreck Maya." she mumbled into the fabric.

In his suite, Richard had poured a glass of water, forgotten it on the counter, and now stood again by the window—watching snow bury the pine trees.

He didn't know what to make of her. Maya was clumsy, anxious, maddeningly persistent—but honest. And she looked at him like he was just... a man, the only nervous she showed was because he was her boss, she didn't even try to escape his presence.

That made her very different.

And it made him curious.

A light below flicked off. He watched as the glow from her room vanished, the shadow of her figure no longer visible behind the sheer curtains. Silence again. Heavy and full.

He turned away.

Yet when he lay down in bed, eyes open, arms folded behind his head, all he could hear was her laugh from earlier. The way she'd said "maybe I am stronger"

She had no idea what that meant.

He closed his eyes.

She was something different.

And if he wasn't careful, something dangerous.

He was dying but he hadn't felt this alive in centuries. And that made her dangerous most of all.

In her room, Maya shifted, curling into her side with a small sigh, unaware that sleep wouldn't come easy to either of them that night.