14. Last February
14
LAST FEbrUARY
T he harbinger speeds through the trees, draping icicles along barren maple branches. He flies lower, spreading shiny verglas atop each rock in his path, the frosty breaths of two lovers bundled up in layers and kissing in the snow drawing his attention. Tiny mismatched flecks spring from his palms in shades of white and blue before he waves his hands. They drift down toward the couple, catching in her red waves and his dark beard. They laugh between kisses, their exhales painting the air white as they gaze in wonder at the flakes flurrying around them.
Admiring his work, the harbinger spins and skates off across the lake, water thickening into ice beneath his feet. Fifty winters finished, he’s weeks away from earning more frost marks—
The wind is knocked from him, and a sharp, searing pain lances between his ribs. He shreds away his shirt, spotting ridges forming, carving line by line deep into his chest. This isn’t like the frost adorning skin. It’s an endless echo of terror.
Anguish.
A shocking pulse riots through him, vibrating so fiercely it sends him staggering. Silver streaks glow from his sternum, and he presses a hand there, hoping to alleviate the discomforting throb. Even just a little.
Not once did he imagine this would be how it happened. The sensations are nothing like his friends described. The only thing he knows is he must follow its tug.
He clutches his chest, closing his eyes, begging to find his mate, but when he looks again, he’s not back home in Nivea. He’s still earthside, just somewhere further south.
Something’s wrong.
He tries again, channeling the frantic rhythm overtaking his rib cage. His mind clears, wholly focused on finding them. While he doesn’t understand this new connection fully, he knows his mate needs him. He scans the park. It’s empty minus a few other Frosts doing their usual duty. None pay him any mind.
It’s not one of them.
The bridge he sits on is covered in sheets of ice, blackened markings veering off toward the lake. The beat within his chest becomes less hurried, slowing…and slowing…
Panic claws through him, sparking every nerve as his gaze whips around the park. They must be here. They must be. Moving closer to the bridge, he peers down into the ice-covered lake below. Shards of broken ice bob in a gentle current, floating within a dark, gaping crack.
His heart seizes in his chest. That crack could swallow him whole…
There. My mate’s down there.
This can’t be right. He should be back home. His mate should be waiting for him with open arms. Finally finding each other thanks to Fate. He glances down at the stinging mark that’s still forming a half-whirled semi-circle at his sternum.
None of this is as it should be.
Not wasting another moment, he jumps, moving through the thick layer of frozen water like its air.
To him, it is.
He’s found a home in the cold. Its chill runs through his veins, coats his flesh. He freezes, coming face to face with his mate.
It’s her.
He searches her wide eyes, focus dropping to her parted lips just beyond the cracked glass. Dark strands trail out from her, her vacant, pale stare gazing straight past him.
This is wrong.
She’s leaving just as quickly as he’s found her. Body floating next to the woman in the driver’s seat. Silver starts to glow from her chest, and he’s certain that beneath her clothes are swirls etching into existence that match his own. He brings his hand over his mark, already missing the pounding thud , the frantic beat that drew him here.
Never interfere with the affairs of mortals.
The harbinger creed rings in the back of his mind, but he’s already using his icy power to shatter the window. The flutter between his ribs and the searing at his chest fades, and now the beat that drove him mad to get to her is the only thing he wishes for.
Please beat.
As she slips from this world, he’s there, clutching her to him. Anger rattles his chest. Why would Fate allow this? He’s found his mate—a moment he’s looked forward to his entire immortal existence. Instead of excitement, though, the only thing spiraling through him is gut-wrenching terror.
Her limp body against his is a hollow reassurance. She can’t actually feel him. She can’t feel anything. The skin pressed to him turns blue, icy streaks paint her hair.
Visions drift in and out of his mind, flashes of her life.
A little girl twirling in front of the mirror, dressed in pale pinks.
Walking through this very park, swinging between her parents.
Satin ribbons flutter into view. She ties them at her ankles before her fingertips fluff the tulle of her costume. Her lips are bold pink in this memory, not the silvery-blue they’re turning now. She smiles, pressing up onto her toes with unencumbered glee.
She’s older now, body and limbs long and lithe, reaching delicate fingers toward the audience. The harbinger can feel the warmth of the spotlight on her. It drowns out the audience in a sea of black, minus one person. The most important one.
The one currently strapped in the seat next to his mate.
Fear blows every memory away, and he sees his mate’s final moments: the car skidding, the screams, the smash of steel breaking through ice, sinking, sinking, sinking, and the panicked push against the water’s resistance.
A panic he recognizes.
The pulse of it is etched into his soul. Any tears the harbinger sheds are carried off with the current. Lost to him as quickly as the joy that flooded every cell of his being when the mate mark began to carve itself into his chest.
A hand grips his shoulder, and he jerks back.
He’s not alone.
Fate’s been there all along, looking on the scene with a somber expression. “You shouldn’t be here, Jax. She’s meant to meet you in Nivea.”
Her voice caresses his mind, its comforting lilt all too familiar. Too much like his first faint memories of her. Raw ones he doesn’t like to think on much. Another shattering of ice. Another plunge into a chilling embrace. Reaching for someone else.
Too late.
His hands clench into quivering fists. “This can’t be right.”
“She is your mate.” Fate’s expression softens, looking at him as if pain is streaked across his flesh instead of frost marks.
“But she’s mortal,” he stammers, not understanding how this is possible. “I just saw her life. Watched her—”
“Her fate is already etched in Frost.”
Fate extends a paint-swirled arm, the usual rainbow of it dulled by the frozen canopy blotting any light bar the strip where the car cracked it into shards. Swirls of glittering magic reach for his mate’s chest. The space that minutes ago was filled with the blissful rhythm of her heartbeat now is filled with empty silence. What he would give to feel it again.
In every scenario he conjured in his dreams, none of them equipped him for finding his mate like this. Dying. He recalls her in the memories. Rich brown hair; shimmering blue eyes; warm, beige skin. So vibrant. So driven.
So alive.
And so much left to do.
“Stop,” he says, wrapping his fingers gently around Fate’s wrist and pulling it back. The magic searing his mate’s chest is severed, leaving behind only the swirl of her mate mark. A sign of what could be.
“What will be,” Fate calls to him, answering his thought with the truth.
It’s his mate’s time to come home with him. To claim him and her immortality. He’ll hold her close, make the transition better for her than it had been for him. He’ll be everything for her. It’s all he’s wanted for decades: to have this bond and the harbinger attached to it to cherish for all of immortality.
“No.” He’s seen her life, felt her dreams as if they were his own. They’re now chiseled into his bones. Their existences are no longer separate. He carries her within him as much as she will one day carry him.
One day. But not today.
His story may have been cut short, but she deserves to see hers through.
He looks Fate in her prismatic eyes. “Let her live.”
“What?” Fate blinks, astonished, which is a feat. “Do you know what you’re asking? The stone has been set. Any shifts will create a ripple I can’t see yet.” Her hand fumbles over the skirts of her dress, floating out from her like watercolor come to life. “Her death is an inevitability.”
“I’ll take whatever you can give her. Hold me responsible, but let her live.” The harbinger can barely fathom the words that escape him, but he doesn’t regret a single one. “I’m begging you.”
“You’d give up your mate to buy her more time…as a mortal?”
“Yes.” His eyes sting, chest aches. There’s no hesitation. Harbingers are those who were unable to live full lives. He may not have met her yet, but he knows her. Sees every wondrous moment she’s had and every wish she hopes comes true. Taking her now would be thieving her of the dreams she has yet to accomplish. Ones she’s desperate for.
“You’re sure?” Fate hesitates, eyes darting, as if thinking over something she doesn’t voice aloud. When her attention returns to him, her tone is firm. “Giving back her life and seeing her goals come to fruition… You may never be reunited with your mate.”
“I’m sure.” Despite the stab of pain twisting through his gut, he nods for emphasis. He’ll watch her each winter. He’ll make sure she sees those dreams ignite. Even if he’ll never be a part of them.
“Take her to the surface,” Fate instructs. “I’ll do the rest.”
He’s already shifting before she finishes. White and gray fur expands from his flesh. His nose elongates into his snout. Claws extend from his fingers and toes, his body contorting until he’s in his earthside form.
The wolf wraps its maw around the neck of the mortal’s shirt, pulling her through the partially shattered window. Crimson spreads through the water, trailing behind them. When the beast brings her body to the surface of the lake, he drags her across the ice until he rests her at its edge.
Where she’ll be safe, as he’s been promised.
Fate is there, waiting.
Her vibrant dress pools around her feet, swirls of vivid color creating a striking contrast next to his dead mate’s pallid complexion. She flicks her wrist, unfurling her fingers to reveal a cerulean rock as thick as a puck. The wolf moves closer to inspect it.
“Last chance.” Her hand lifts and lowers, as if testing the weight of the thing she’s holding.
The wolf’s attention is pinned to the stone in her palm. It’s beautiful. Strong. It reminds him of the bond he longs to claim. The woman he could have loved.
Would have loved.
“Do it.”
Fate places her hands on the shoulders of his mate, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple before her gaze shifts to the wolf. The rock in her hand crumbles, disintegrating and floating off on the breeze. Disappearing as if it never existed.
The wolf lies down alongside his mate, nestles his snout in the valley between her breasts, closes his eyes, and waits.
Fate bows. Her work is done.
A single kiss and destinies are rewritten.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The faint flutter of her rekindled pulse rouses the wolf. He observes his mate. Her skin is less pale, lips no longer blue, chest no longer stilled. Her body warms against his, Fate’s magic thrumming through her. Each passing second, her heartbeat regains its strength. It thuds beautifully, echoing between them.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
When the wolf tilts his head up, Fate is gone.
Smeared streaks of dark red against the snow steal his focus. Though his mate’s life has been spared, he needs to make sure she’s safe. The last thing he wants to do is leave her, but he must find help. He must ensure the dreams he let crumble away like ash on the wind were worth his sacrifice.
In a flash, his claws retract, fur vanishing, body camouflaging into the wintry backdrop. He races through the park, hunting down the first mortal he can find. When his blistering wind doesn’t urge the man in the direction he wishes, he reclaims his earthside form, growling and prowling with teeth bared until the mortal runs away toward the lake. Once he’s out of sight, the harbinger follows, watching from the trees until blaring sirens wail in the distance moments before an ambulance arrives.
Once they’ve strapped his mate onto a stretcher and he hears their words that she’s alive— she’s safe —the harbinger places a hand over his unclaimed mate mark. He savors the beautiful beat of her heart against his palm. Holds on to it as he returns home.
Fate is waiting with his fathers. A cross of pity and disappointment spans their faces.
“You’ll forfeit the rest of this winter and the next.”
“You’ll forfeit going earthside.”
“You’ll forfeit earning your frost marks.”
The harbinger doesn’t care, though. He’d forfeit it all to see the joy on his mate’s face again. The vibrancy of her passion. His dreams may have ended much too soon, but hers don’t have to. Each beat of her heart reminds him of that.
She’s worth it. Always.
As the weeks of his miserable banishment pass, he curls up in bed, clinging to the comforting thud between his ribs. Clinging to her . While he’d never take back his choice, he mourns the colorful memories of an immortal life he may never get with her.
Speeding through the trees. Painting the world in ice and snow by her side. Spending solstice buried deep within her, claiming each other over and over again.
Never apart.
After a while—he doesn’t know when, since he refuses to leave his room—he begs his fathers to bring Fate to see him. She sits on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in hers.
“I need you to do something for me—”
“I cannot undo this,” she says, a tear streaking her cheek. “I’m sorry. Everything’s been set in motion to balance the scale. You must let destiny play out as it’s meant to.”
“I know.”
Fate’s brows lift in surprise. Did she really think he would be okay watching his beautiful mate’s life cut before his very eyes? As much as he loves her, he could never wish his own fate on another. It would have been something if he’d been tethered to another harbinger, but he couldn’t stand by and see that happen to her . Not when he could do something to stop it.
Not when she had so much life left to live.
“I made my choice and I’d make it again.”
The harbinger pushes himself up in bed. It takes more effort than it should, every part of him so weak. He half expects to crumble like that cerulean stone. How can he replenish his magic knowing she’s out there, unaware of his very presence? Of their connection.
The heartbeat thuds wildly in his chest. Maybe it always will. But he cannot remain like this. It’s too hard to bear. Too consuming now that he cannot reach her.
“What is it, Jax?”
It’s his final request. The only way he can hibernate and rest before returning to his duty and bringing more winters. His eyes plead with Fate, his voice shaking with fierce resolve.
“Make me forget.”