Burn Me Right

Chapter 56

He handed her a warm jacket. She looked at it but took it without protest. "You might not need it. I can keep you warm. All you have to do is say those words," he threw it over her body, zipping it up.

Autumn was puzzled by his behavior, but she ignored it. Trying to understand him is like trying to solve Pythagoras' theorem. She was never good at doing that, and she will never be good at understanding him. "Can you tell me where we are going?" she asked as he pushed the zipper up her chest and stopped.

She stared up at him, but his eyes were glued to her chest. She grabbed the zipper, slapping his hands away, and zipped it up. Zyler immediately pulled it down past her breasts. She gritted her teeth and hit his hands out again, pulling her zipper up and clutching her hands, trying not to be embarrassed as she was terrified the driver would see.

Zyler pulled her arms away from her body and pulled the zipper down. This time, Autumn huffed like an angry bull. "Are you 4?" she angrily pulled her zipper up again.

"Maybe," he answered, pulling it down. "I don't like you covering them," he pinned her hands to the side, "I will tie you up if I have to," he didn't seem to be joking. Autumn has the urge to pull it up again, but seeing that he never joked about anything, she let it slip. At least she has her top to cover her chest.

Silence ruled the vehicle. Autumn was curious to see where they were going, but all she could see as her eyes allowed were snowcapped streets, mountains, and roads. It looked straight out of a fantasy novel. The world outside seemed to have been dipped in soft icing as if nature was celebrating a grand occasion. The sun, a distant companion in the vast azure canvas, cast its golden embrace upon the landscape, making the snow glisten like a million diamonds scattered in abandon. Each snowflake seemed to hold a secret, a whisper of the stories they had witnessed over centuries.

As they journeyed further into the heart of the village, the quaint cottages emerged like characters from a dream. Their roofs were draped in white, resembling powdered sugar dusted atop a freshly baked pastry. Chimneys released spirals of smoke that mingled with the crisp air, creating an inviting aroma that promised warmth and comfort.

The village came to life as they approached, the villagers emerging from their homes like characters in a timeless fable. Children bundled in layers of warmth chased each other through the snow-covered lanes, their laughter like tinkling bells in the brisk air. Elderly couples strolled hand in hand, their eyes speaking volumes of a lifetime shared.

"Where are we?" she asked as the driver parked the car.

"Northern Ireland," he gracefully stepped out and rounded to her side.

"Why?" she pushed her hands into her pockets as the air was chilly. He grabbed a hat and placed it on her head. Pulling her wrists out, he put gloves on her hand.

"Because I can," his cocky answer irritated her. Can he not answer like an average human? Does he have to be cocky all the time? Rolling her eyes mentally, he instructed the driver in some language she had no idea of. He turned around and pulled her close. Autumn wasn't okay with it. Not in a million would she admit, but he did feel warm, too warm.

"Won't you dress in warm clothing?" she carefully stepped over the frozen steps. It would be mortifying if she fell on her butt.

"I am a bit of a masochist. I love pain," he drawled his lips and wet them.

"Huh?" she appeared stumped.

"Come on, Baby girl, you are English. You surely know what I meant," he climbed up the steps and punched the code.

"I didn't eat the Oxford dictionary for lunch today," she felt offended. How in the world was she supposed to know every English word?

"Well, I will show you one day," he said, his voice a soft invitation. With a graceful gesture, he opened the door, revealing a sight that stole Autumn's breath away. The sun was beginning its descent, a radiant orb of fire painting the sky in hues of tangerine and amber. Its warm embrace cast an enchanting glow upon the tranquil lake, turning its waters into a canvas of liquid gold.