Chapter 4
FOUR
AUGUST
“I swear, Damien promised to pick me up. Next time, I’ll just take his car. I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Marisol. It’s no big deal.”
I throw a reassuring smile toward the passenger seat, attempting to soothe my employee. She gives me a doe-eyed smile and fiddles with one of her loose black curls.
Damien warned me his sister could get a little dramatic at times, but I figure everything has an added importance when you’re sixteen. Plus, he’s the one who flaked on giving her a ride home at the end of her shift.
Luckily, I scheduled her through closing, so we both finished working at the same time.
The house Marisol lives in with her older brother is only a fifteen-minute drive from my shop, and when we turn onto their street, I catch sight of a few extra cars pulled into their driveway and parked along the sidewalk.
Glancing over, I receive an eye roll from Marisol.
“Game day,” she mutters, as if annoyed, but I catch an excited glimmer in her eye.
I park behind a blue Subaru and shut down the engine.
“You’re coming inside?” Marisol’s voice has developed a high-pitched quality to it. Almost like she’s nervous.
“Yeah. Thought I’d say hi to everyone. And maybe watch the game.”
She tilts her head. “Do you even know what sport they’re watching?”
I rack my brain. “Uh … football?”
Marisol giggles and shakes her head, a riot of curls bouncing around her face. I’m not surprised Damien has been complaining about random guys showing up, expecting to take his little sister out on a date. She’s a cutie.
“It’s soccer.” Her humor dims as she nibbles on her lip. “They’ll probably all be too distracted to talk.”
I shrug. “Still, I’ll walk you in.”
Her copper skin goes dark with a blush before she scuttles out of the car.
As we navigate the rocky yard, loud shouts echo from inside the low-roofed stucco house. The difference in architecture between homes in Phoenix and Alaska, where I left a little less than a year ago, still fascinates me.
Different climates, different needs.
Marisol pulls open the front door, charging in ahead of me. Off to the right is a room full to the bursting with men and women vibrating energy, attention focused on a huge flat screen mounted to the wall.
“I’m home!” Marisol calls out, walking past the crowd.
Damien, dark hair flopping over his eyes, pops up from his chair, confusion wrinkling his thick brows. “Sis?” He weaves through the spectators. “How’d you get home? You were supposed to text me when your shift was over.”
Her blush returns full force as she backs toward the hallway that leads to her bedroom. “I did. You didn’t answer, so August gave me a ride.”
Damien catches sight of me then, sending a nod my way before focusing back on his sister. He slides his phone from his back pocket, swiping his thumb across the screen. “I don’t have any texts from you.”
Marisol throws up her hands with a theatrical flourish that comes naturally to a teenage girl.
“So, it’s my fault you have a crappy phone?
Sounds like you’re the one with a problem.
And I don’t appreciate getting interrogated the second I walk in the door!
” She twirls on her heel and storms away from us.
A door slams, and Damien snorts as he turns to face me. “That little sneak didn’t text me.”
I scratch my jaw. “You sure? She seemed pretty embarrassed when she had to ask me for a ride.”
Damien scoffs and waves for me to follow him into the kitchen.
The house isn’t huge; it’s a comfortable size for two people even if one of them is a teenager.
Damien does well for himself, selling real estate around Phoenix, but I’m more impressed that he’s basically become a father for Marisol.
A few years ago, their parents decided they were tired of staying in one city and left to travel the world.
I don’t know if Marisol was invited to go with them, but either way, she moved in with Damien.
Now he’s the one who makes sure she is safe, is fed, and shows up at school come fall.
He pops the top off a beer and hands it to me.
“She’s gotten the lead in the school play twice now.
Probably get a scholarship to some art school—her acting chops are that good.
But she knows I see right through her.” Damien opens a fresh beer for himself, clinks the neck of his bottle to mine, and downs half of it in one swallow.
“What do you see then?” I sip mine at a more sedate pace.
“She’s got a crush on you.”
Good thing I wasn’t gulping my drink down like him or else I would’ve spit a lot more out when I choked.
The spray should’ve coated Damien, but he’s too fast. With a wave of his hand, the droplets halt midair.
The liquid hangs there, glittering golden in the kitchen light, until another dismissive gesture sends the wasted beer into the sink.
Water Elementals only get wet if they want to.
When I’m done coughing beer out of my throat, I glare at my friend. “Stop being ridiculous.”
Damien smirks as my cousin, Sammy, saunters into the room. Well, technically, Sammy is my second cousin, but growing up as an only child, I’ll take any family I can get.
“What’s this goldfish trying to sell you, Auggie?” Sammy pulls open the fridge to grab a beer for himself.
If there’s one thing that can be relied upon, it’s that Damien always has a fully stocked fridge.
“Nothing,” I mutter, too embarrassed by the idea of what he just said to repeat it.
But Damien, I’m starting to discover, tends toward brutal honesty. “Just pointing out that my sister’s in love with his icy ass.”
I expect Sammy to laugh and deny the claim.
Instead, my cousin nods. “Oh, yeah. She’s got it bad for you.”
“Shut up.” To think I moved here because I wanted to see what it was like to have siblings. Didn’t realize I’d have to deal with this much immaturity.
The two of them laugh at my expense.
I take revenge the only way I know how. When they go to take swallows from their bottles, I let go of some of my pent-up energy from earlier.
The power prickles over my skin, just a light touch but enough to chill the air around me.
With an extra bit of concentration, I’m able to direct the icy force into a focused shot. Specifically, two focused shots.
“What the fuck?” Sammy tries to take a drink multiple times, shaking the bottle, as if that’ll help the beer flow.
Damien peers into his, only to come up glaring at me. “Not cool, man.”
Now I’m the one smirking. I take a sip of my delicious, non-frozen beer.
Since I’m the only Ice Elemental in the room, I now have full control over their alcohol.
Makes me glad my human grandpa fell for my grandma, a woman from the God of Ice’s line.
Gramps’s sister married a man from the God of Water’s line, which is how I ended up with Sammy in my family tree.
I guess the two humans both wanted some magic in their love lives.
“Fucking icicle up your ass,” my cousin scoffs.
“Careful,” I warn. “There’s a lot more beer in the fridge that could use a super freeze.”
Damien stares at me, horror on his face. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might. Or I might be nice and unfreeze your beers if you both stop talking about inappropriate teenage crushes. And if you answer a question for me.”
Sammy nods readily, expectantly holding his drink out. Damien tilts his head, reminding me of his sister, but then relents with a begrudging nod.
I pull the frost back, leaving just enough to ensure their beers are chilled. Because I’m nice like that.
“So, what’s this question, Auggie?” My cousin uses the nickname to annoy me, but I kind of like it. Mainly because I never had anyone around willing to nickname me when I was growing up, other than my parents.
“You’ve both been with humans, right? Slept with them?”
The two men share a confused look before returning their attention to me.
“You mean, like, this week?” Sammy asks.
“Are you asking for an exact number? ’Cause that’s going to take me a minute.” Damien starts mouthing names to himself as he holds up fingers, counting them off.
“No, for fuck’s sake. I just meant … hell, never mind.” I drag a hand through my hair as I swallow a hefty gulp of beer, trying to calm the simmer of lust in my chest that appeared this afternoon.
“Are you saying you’ve never had sex with a human before?” Sammy stares at me as if I just told him I was dying of an incurable illness.
“I have, but it’s never … ended well.” As I stand in the kitchen with two men who have likely slept with more women than I’ve met in my life, the few sexual experiences I’ve had suddenly seem even less noteworthy.
“What do you mean?” Damien at least keeps a neutral tone, holding off on the outright mockery.
“My powers are arousal-induced.”
They both wince simultaneously, and I know for sure I’m not going to find a kindred spirit in either of them.
“That’s some bad luck, man.” Sammy taps his beer against mine. “What happens exactly? You get off and start shooting frozen cum?”
Damien snorts into his beer, and I glare at my cousin.
Absolutely no filter.
“No, thank the gods. I just get cold—like arctic cold—and spend most of the time worried I’m going to hurt them.”
Sex is supposed to be hot and heavy, leaving people sweating.
I leave them shivering.
“You just need more practice. I used to flood a room when I got pissed off. Now the air barely feels humid. It’s all about control.” Damien grips my shoulder, grinning up at me with an apology in his eyes.
“You met someone?” Sammy tosses his empty bottle in the recycling bin and opens the fridge for another. The guy drinks like a fish. Or like a Squid.
“A woman came into the shop today. She was …” I trail off, not sure exactly how to describe Quinn.
At first, I thought she was shy, blinking up at me without words, clearly dragged into my shop by her sisters. But then sparks flared from her, and eventually, she roared to life with a glare and a tongue-lashing.
Fire. She was pure fire.
And I want to burn.
“That hot, huh?”
My cousin’s comment brings me back to the present, and I shrug, trying not to give away how much the brief interaction rocked me.
“And you’re worried she can’t handle you in bed?” Damien smirks at me.
I scowl, mainly because he’s right.
“The way I see it, you’ve got two choices. Get some practice under your belt until this isn’t a problem anymore, or”—Sammy gives me an evil grin—“live a celibate life in tribute to the gods.”
My eyes roll on their own, and I down another frosty swallow of beer while I finger the business card in my pocket.
Hours later, the paper still radiates warmth.