35. Jolie
35
JOLIE
S ightseeing has been a blast, but when our long weekend arrives, I’m more than ready to get to the ski resort and relax. Thank goodness we decided to splurge and fly the hour instead of driving and worrying about tire chains. Too much of a hassle.
Lark and I packed pretty light, considering. Delilah, on the other hand, has all her cold weather and ski gear ready to go. When she looks like she might tip over, one of the lodge workers hurries over to take her skis and snowboard off her hands.
“Look at those hills! I can’t freaking wait,” Delilah says, rubbing her newly free hands together, cheeks pinked from the cold.
“Happy for you, honey. Enjoy those slopes.” Lark gets up on her tiptoes and gives her a swift peck on the lips. “Happier for us, though.”
She shoots me a grin, then pulls her beanie off, unleashing her frizzy curls. Combing through her locks, she tames it a bit, and I help her get the last few wayward pieces.
“Same,” I agree, glad that Lark and I already decided to opt for a relaxing experience. I’ve booked us massages, facials, and pedicures, figuring we can indulge while her girlfriend skis. Between traveling, performing in the festival, and running around to fit in as many tourist spots as possible, my body is aching and exhausted. Besides, I’ve heard enough skiing horror stories to not want to do anything to jeopardize my career. Not when I’m potentially returning to Ballet Potomac as a soloist. The last thing I need is to get some new injury.
Nope. Massages, yoga, and hot cocoa are calling my name. Plus, we’ve booked an excursion for tomorrow night that I’m more than excited about, staying in ice domes near the resort. There’s a hot tub Lark and I already booked for ourselves, and the overnight trip is more glamping than being out in the wintry wilderness. There’s a fondue and wine experience around a bonfire and then private ice-encased domes with lush bedding to sleep on. When I first suggested it, Lark and Delilah thought it was strange that I wanted to book my own space… And maybe it was, but it was also a bit of wishful thinking on my part.
Jax did confirm he is doing his job here, though, and ever since the night at the theater and my hotel room, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him or his naughty promises. I’m addicted to him and this connection we share, already anticipating my next fix. The uniqueness of his body sends butterflies bursting through my belly. I’m both nervous and counting down all at once. I can’t imagine how it will be to take his knot.
Despite my jitters, I want it all.
I want him.
“Look at that view,” Lark says, gaze trained behind me. Delilah whistles in agreement.
I turn, instantly struck by the hills covered in mounds of snowy white. The mountains ripple, large and small peaks jutting up in the distance. Dark trees pepper the landscape, pops of color from Hotham’s visitors decked out in their cold-weather garb, tiny puffs of white filling the space around them while they chat and enjoy the resort’s outdoor amenities. “Wow. It’s beautiful.”
“It really is.” Lark nudges me with her elbow. “How about we get our stuff to our rooms and then go get that spa time in? I’m sure Delilah is ready to channel her inner ski bunny.”
“Sounds great!”
We walk through the lobby, thick stonework donning the walls surrounding an elegant and modern white stone fireplace that spans the length of the room. An oversized plush couch sits at the center of the main room where a few people are gathered, sipping at the mugs clutched in their hands.
I look down at my key card, following the signs until I’ve made it to my room. Dropping my bags next to the bed, I go straight for the balcony, unlatching the door and heading out onto it. I stare out at the view, hands gripping the ice-coated railing. The Frosts have turned this into a wintry haven, and I can’t help but wonder how much of this is Jax’s work.
If he hadn’t intervened after my accident…would I be out there with him right now, painting the world white with a wave of my arm?
“Where are you, Jax?” I whisper to the wind. The scent of juniper and pine kisses my nose, and I breathe in deeply. I follow it to the right, and my heart begins to pound so fiercely I can feel my pulse through my fingertips pressed against the icy balustrade.
He’s there in the distance, zipping along treetops with a hauntingly powerful grace that no human could ever capture. His body sweeps with the wind. He’s the breeze itself, swirling around trees, decorating their branches. More movement catches my eyes, and I grip the railing tighter.
Not only can I see Jax, I can see more of them.
Frosts.
His fellow immortals flit on the breeze, between the trees, along every structure both natural and manmade, creating a wintry masterpiece right before my eyes. I lift a finger, pointing to each one as I count. They work so quickly, it takes me a minute to decide if there are four or five of them.
Four.
It’s not far off from watching a ballet. From where I stand, witnessing them all move in and out of each other, they make up their very own ensemble. A small chilling corps. If any of them notice me staring, they don’t seem to care.
Each one tends to a different spot, decorating with their own delicate flair.
One Frost glides closer, platinum hair whipping behind her as she pulls long icicles from the rooftop of the lodge. When her periwinkle eyes meet mine, she freezes in place.
“Hello,” I say, wondering if there’s an etiquette to approaching a should-be-invisible immortal when you’re mortal.
“It’s you,” she says, focus floating back toward the other harbingers. “Jax’s mate.”
“Yes.” I can’t stop staring at the twinkle in her eyes. They are so different from Jax’s but otherworldly in their own way. I wonder if every Frost looks so unique. Obviously, the transformation is stark. What did she look like in her mortal life? What would I look like if I had an immortal one?
“I’m Aneira.” She gives me a gentle smile, tucking a lilac-streaked strand of hair behind her ear. “But you can call me Ani. Your mate does.”
The way she speaks of mates both excites me and makes my nerves ratchet. Jax and I are mates. To Aneira, and potentially the rest of the Frosts, we are a forgone conclusion. A permanent partnership. There’s no question of what I am to him in her glittering eyes.
I wish I felt that certainty when it came to a future for us.
“Do you want me to call him over?” Her attention darts to where the mate mark is hidden beneath my layers. “Do you want to?”
“That’s okay. I have to be somewhere. But if you can give him a message for me, that would be amazing.”
Knock, knock, knock.
“I better go,” I whisper.
“Quick! What’s the message?”
“Tell him I’m here.” I smirk.
“Of course. That is, if he hasn’t already figured it out.” Aneira grins back and pulls down a few more icicles over my head at differing lengths. The closer she gets to me, the chillier the air is. “It was wonderful to meet you, Jolie.”
“Likewise, Ani.”
She waves goodbye, flitting away before she drops down into her chestnut-brown wolf form and sprints between the trees toward the larger silver-and-white one in the distance.
Jax’s eyes sparkle, and the wind whispers in his comforting lilt. “Looks like you were the one to find me this time, Tempest.”