Nikita was authoritative when he instructed Blair to stay put. His dark eyes looked nearly black in the moonlight, gleaming seriously as he narrowed them. Blair could do little more than nod, his body wracked with shivers.
The wind picked up a touch, but objectively, Blair knew the night probably wasn't getting colder. He was just inching closer and closer toward hypothermia. The goosebumps that prickled his skin hadn't receded for several minutes. His wet clothes felt colder with each minute they spent plastered to his clammy skin.
So when Nikita stalked off into the night, there wasn't much he could
do.
Blair sank down into the grass wrapping his arms around his knees.
Worry gnawed at him from the inside out. Not the mortal panic that he might die—he was in downtown Edmonton, after all. If things got that dire, help was a short phone call away.
But boy would he hate to have to deal with those consequences.
