Chapter 10
TEN
AUGUST
A growl of protest rumbles out of my chest when Quinn shoves me away. Every inch of my skin joins in the denial of our parting.
That kiss … hell, tasting Quinn’s mouth was better than any sex I’d ever had.
Away from my shop, I’ve finally discovered her scent. Cinnamon. She practically burned my tongue with the taste. But there were hints of sweetness hovering on her lips. Honey. I want to create a batch of ice cream flavored like Quinn. And then melt it over her skin and lick it off her.
My dick, pushing against the zipper of my pants, seconds the idea.
The ice in my gut prickles through my body, sliding further over my skin and threatening to spill into the air. My powers seek out her heat, longing for connection the same way I do.
And like the chill, I reach for her. Only then do I realize there’s a very pressing reason Quinn pushed me away. Instead of remaining on the counter, legs splayed for me to return to their inviting embrace, she’s jumped down to stand in front of the sink.
And from that sink, I watch a dark cloud of smoke twist with tendrils of steam and the occasional flicker of flame.
Shit.
Glancing over at the stove, I realize the towels I had hanging from the oven door are missing. That passionate kiss muddled my mind so much that I didn’t realize the fabric must’ve come into contact with the hot stovetop.
Good thing one of us was able to keep our wits about us.
And I’m an asshole for the small twinge of disappointment that Quinn wasn’t as affected as I was. Apparently, I’d be fine with my house burning down around us as long as she found my advances irresistible.
Properly chagrined, I move to take over the firefighter efforts, only to pause in horror.
As Quinn reaches for the faucet, her crop top rises up enough to reveal a decent stretch of her back. And there, on her already-pale skin, is a bright white handprint.
My handprint. I might have been able to convince myself she simply had sensitive skin, if it wasn’t for the bits of frost spiderwebbing out from each finger mark.
This has never happened before. In the past, women eventually pushed my hands away from them, claiming my touch was too cold.
They would giggle and tell me to rub my hands together to warm them, thinking the chill was a temporary hangover from being outside in the Alaskan winter.
None of them knew it was a constant state.
In the end, I would simply grasp the bedsheets instead of clutching their soft bodies to me.
But Quinn didn’t push me away. Not until something threatened our lives.
How was she able to put up with the discomfort? Frost directly on the skin for a human has to be painful.
Fire subdued, Quinn turns to face me, her expression surprisingly guilty as she traces her gaze over my body.
“Are you okay? Did you get burned anywhere?” Her voice has lost its confident, flirtatious nature.
I barely stifle the disbelieving laugh pushing at the back of my throat. She wants to know if I’m hurt?
Who is this woman, and why are the gods torturing me with her?
“No. I’m—” My voice leaves me as a shiver racks through her body.
Every beautiful curve of her shakes with the cold I left on her skin. Her arms cross over her chest, as if trying to hold on to any little bit of warmth she might have left.
Did I steal all the heat from her? Would her lips have turned blue if I’d kept kissing them? Would the blood have slowed and frozen in her veins if she’d never escaped from my hold?
I want to fall on my knees before her, begging for forgiveness and promising never to lay another finger on her delicate human form.
But before I can, Quinn backs away from me, stumbling toward the door like a frightened deer.
“I just remembered. I promised Cat I’d eat dinner with her tonight. So sorry. Need to go.” Her purse and jacket are hanging by the front door. She snatches them up and leaves at a speed that can only be considered fleeing.
And I’m left alone.
Curses tumble from my mouth, and I press my fist into the granite counter to keep from punching a wall.
I should’ve known better. But Quinn was too tempting, making me think of all the Elemental and human couples I’d heard of. For a moment, I thought that we could join their ranks.
But my powers cut off any chance of intimacy, and I find myself hating them.
Why can’t I be like Damien or Sammy? Or descend from a less dangerous Elemental line, like Earth?
Doesn’t matter. Wishing has never gotten me anywhere.
With jerky, frustrated movements, I pull a bowl from my cabinets and a spoon from a drawer, resigned to eat without companionship.
Problem is, when I move to ladle out a serving, I find my dinner has frozen solid.
Fuck my life.