Chapter 9
It should be simple. I’d tell her that I wished to show her the true extent of my power, and as a winter faerie, she’d be in awe.
Kissing her could be a tell-all if we were true mates—the reactions our bodies would have from the connection—impulses that went beyond lust and attraction.
I’d been going over what to say to her as I trekked back to town, miming and stammering.
When I exited the forest, the plaza came into full view, a solstice tree now standing at the center of it. Several citizens were busy decorating the street lamps with holly and garland. Pausing at the tree’s base, I scanned the ornaments, a small smile cresting my lips at the snowflakes.
“Jack?” A female voice asked.
The maenad I’d met briefly leaned in front of me, her fingers steepled.
“Yes?” A crease formed between my eyes as I stared at her.
“Are you looking for Sylvie?”
I took a step away. “How did you know that?”
“She’s my best friend.” Aella shrugged and rubbed the tip of her nose that’d gone rosy from the chilly air.
Pausing, I stood upright. “Have you seen her?”
“Yup.” Aella pointed behind me and clicked her heels together. “The Minty Boar.”
“Thanks.” I started to walk toward the café but glanced back at the maenad sucking her lips into her mouth as if she was trying not to tell me something.
What I saw through the café windows made my blood boil.
The instantaneous rage had me seeing red for the first time in my ethereal life, and the thoughts racing through my brain were borderline ridiculous.
There was Sylvie, laughing and touching the forearm of some other male with red hair.
Those should be my laughs, those fleeting touches should be my touches. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?
Without thinking, without any preparation whatsoever, I stormed into the café, bringing a snowy current with me that wafted from the doorway. The closest patrons shivered and frantically reached for their coats. The roaring fire in the hearth died out with one flick of my finger.
The auburn-haired man sat back in his chair and furrowed his brow at me, ice crystals already forming on the hair surrounding his mouth.
Sylvie, unaffected by my wintry anger, turned in her chair, gaping when she saw it was me. “Jack? What the seven hells are you doing?”
Ignoring her question, I stalked toward the table, fanning my palm at the male stranger, relishing the sight of his face turning a light shade of blue. “Who are you?”
“Jack,” Sylvie yelled, but my focus stayed on the red-haired buffoon.
The man gripped the table, fighting back some, but not all, of my power. “Thor. God of—”
“Yes,” I started, clenching my hand into a fist and pumping more ice through his veins. It wouldn’t kill him, but it sure as shit didn’t feel good. “I’ve heard of you. Do you often fiddle with things that don’t belong to you, Norseman?”
“Belong?” Sylvie roared, pushing to her feet. “Jack, stop it.”
Thor looked between us, the shivers becoming uncontrollable now, his lips turning sapphire. “I—I didn’t know.”
“Jack,” Sylvie shouted again, her hand slipping over my bicep this time.
The reaction was immediate. My blood usually ran cold.
I breathed the cold as I always had. The moment Sylvie touched me, though, a swirling warmth pooled in my stomach and chest—a comforting heat that didn’t make me sweat or feel like my insides were melting.
It thawed me. Sylvie’s lips parted, her wings fluttering faster now, and she stared at the spot where our skin made contact.
When she pulled away, still gazing at her hand, the chill washed over me again, and I doused my power, letting it seep through the cracks of the building and out the door.
“Sylvie,” I whispered, a snowball-sized knot forming in my throat, making it hard to speak. “We need to talk.”
A tortured wrinkle formed in Sylvie’s forehead, and she shook her head. “Talk? After that caveman display I just witnessed?”
Thor let out a relieved breath, his grip loosening on the table. He had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
“You don’t understand. That’s precisely why I need to talk to you.”
I was seconds away from losing her; I could hear it in her tone and see it in the steely glare she gave me. I’d been searching for so, so long, and I couldn’t afford the luxury of my ego.
“Please,” I croaked, an unintended plea dancing in my gaze.
Sylvie searched my face, surveying my posture before sighing. “We can talk in the bakery.”
The uncomfortable feeling of the heat I’d associated with the bakery now had me kneading my arm with my thumb. “Anywhere but the bakery.”
“What’s wrong with the bakery?” Sylvie arched a brow and frowned as if insulted by my request.
This was not how I envisioned this unavoidable conversation going.
“The heat. I—” Rubbing the back of my neck from the vulnerable itch clawing at my throat, I locked my eyes with hers. “—I can’t stand it.”
Sylvie gave a weak grin, a pitying expression that struck an ache in my skull. “The ovens aren’t on, Jack.”
“What in Styx happened in here?” Dagnar asked, entering his café where snow still littered the floorboards and the fire no longer warmed the space.
Ashamed, another first for me in eons, I tightened my jaw and used my magic to summon the snow, absorbing it into my skin. “Apologies. I have no way of relighting the fire, but—”
“It’s fine. Nothing a torch can’t handle. I wouldn’t live in Arcane Cove if I never expected weird and supernatural things to occur.” Dagnar chuckled and moved past us as if nothing had happened.
This place was so strange. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, let alone its inhabitants.
“Come on, Jack,” Sylvie beckoned, standing at the open door. She glanced at Thor with a sympathetic smile; and that same rage sent a blinding blizzard through my veins.
Growling, I stormed for the door before impulses overtook all sensibility, and I followed Sylvie to the bakery.
No sooner had we entered than she pulled down the blinds and whirled on her heels to face me with sternly crossed arms. “What the hell was that, Jack? I’m allowed to have coffee with someone, especially when you and I are nothing to each other. We’re not even friends.”
Grimacing at her words, I propped myself on the counter for purchase. “That’s where you’re wrong, faerie.”
“Oh? Do enlighten me, Mr. Frost.”
I drummed my fingers before casting my gaze on her. “We’re mates.”
Sylvie’s eyes blinked, her wings fanning in and out. “Mates? That’s not possible.” She pressed a hand to her forehead and rubbed the tip of one ear.
I couldn’t have been sure what her reaction would be, but relaying my exact words from the first day we met threw me off guard. “I thought that at first, too, but why do you think that?”
“They told me I could never be someone’s mate,” Sylvie whispered, her eyes glazing over.
The hurt in her voice had my gut churning, and a sudden compulsion to pulverize whoever put that asinine thought in her head overwhelmed me. “Who told you that?”
She licked her lips and busied herself straightening boxes on a display shelf. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m not quite ready to get that deep with you yet.”
Yet. She said yet.
“Fair enough.” I stopped trying to get nearer to her for fear I might somehow spook her on this very thin ice we treaded. “We hardly know each other.”
“We don’t know each other, Jack,” Sylvie replied haughtily, her hand falling to her side.
“Right,” I breathed out, my mind muddied by the desperation of finally finding my mate, only for it to become so complicated. I glanced at the clock on the wall as if it represented my dwindling time here.
“If you were so unsure about this yourself before, what changed suddenly that you believe it to be true?” Sylvie’s eyes stayed fixed on the display case, unable to meet my gaze.
“The moment I saw you with him, an uncontrollable possessiveness consumed me. For a moment, I wasn’t in control of my own actions. That’s never happened to me.” Staring at the warbles in the wooden floor, I combed my beard with my fingers.
Sylvie shifted from one foot to the other, and for a second, I thought I had her, but she threw her hands in the air, shrieking in frustration. “What am I supposed to think about all of this? Hm?”
There wasn’t a way for me to answer that. All I could do was keep convincing her that what I was saying was true.
“When you touched me, I could tell from your expression you felt something too. What was it?” I pushed from the counter, cautiously moving closer to her.
That delicious heat I’d felt from her. I wanted to experience it again. It was mere meters from me. One simple touch.
Sylvie had been chewing on her thumbnail, a hand propped on her hip, and she snapped her attention my way, her eyes glistening. “A blissful chill. Like I could stand naked in a blizzard in below freezing temperature and it’d be the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”
The mere thought of her doing just that had my dick going ice hard, and I shifted my stance.
“That’s something I can do.” I pressed a hand to my chest, edging closer to her. Reaching out my hand, I caught Sylvie’s shimmering violet gaze. “Let me show you my powers.”
Sylvie first looked at my hand, then back to my eyes, curling her fists to her chest like I’d really nip at her or something. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already witnessed them.” Smirking, she turned away from me.
Staying put, I re-emphasized my awaiting palm. “No. You haven’t.”
Her enchanting gaze returned to me, intrigue and amusement dancing there.
“And maybe, you’ll feel inclined to show me yours as well,” I added.
Sylvie’s bottom lip quivered and her wings quickly fanned—whether it was from excitement or trepidation, I couldn’t tell. “What makes you think I have powers?”
She was afraid. Why?
“Because you’re my mate, Sylvie.” When her face still looked uncertain, I called on my winter magic, coiling a small amount of snowfall to land in my palm. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t wish to, but I’d love to see what you can do.”
Sylvie concentrated on my hand for so long I thought for sure she was mulling over a way to turn me down, but as she continued to do, she surprised me with, “Fine.”
A relieved, chilly breath pushed from my lungs, and I stood there with my palm in the air, still, waiting. “Fine.”
“On one condition.” She held up a single finger, her wings flapping erratically.
My own intrigue bubbled excitedly in my stomach, and I quirked a small smile. “I’m listening.”
“You need to catch me first,” she challenged, whisking open the bakery door and taking flight, already heading for the woods.
Blinking in disbelief, I allowed her to get a head start, using my spiraling snow magic to make an icy trail leading out of the bakery and into the forest. Time was of the essence now that I had found my fate, and the future of my kingdom fell not only on this winter faerie’s shoulders but on my ability to not fuck it up.