Maya looked at Mike, and then her thoughts were full of complaints about the room temperature. 'Hah... how could I not be cold...? The cold winds are blowing through the walls... it's so cold..."
Mike didn't wait for her to answer. He stood up from the workbench, his muscular, tanned frame casting a long, intimidating shadow over her in the dim light of the cabin.
He began to move toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on prey that doesn't realize the hunt has already begun. "Like what, you say?"
"Well... since the storm outside is so massive, and if this goes on, we might catch a cold in this cabin or maybe worse... freeze to death."
"If we don't hurry up and get warm, it might get bad, y'know~?" Mike grinned.
Maya's eyes widened. That sharp, observant intellect of hers finally caught the predatory glint in his eyes, and a primal instinct told her to move.
