Frostbite Page 8

  Ezra fumbled for where to begin that might satisfy Seraphine. "You know I snuck out," he began tentatively, eyes trained on her face in the hopes of reading her expression. It was as indecipherable as always.

  "Evidently. I don't suppose you would like to provide the names of your co-conspirators this time."

  He shook his head. The question was only a formality. She knew he wouldn't say and they both knew that she would figure it out in time anyway. He would have to get word to Vox's witch friend somehow. She might want to make herself scarce for a few months. Or even a year. Two just to be safe. "I planned to be gone only a few hours. A day at most. You would hardly have noticed."

  "Because you brought a witch into our territory. The entire floor reeked of magic for days after we broke that spell you left in your room. You're lucky Mother wasn't around to smell it."

  He scowled at her, lifting his chin. "I wouldn't have to go to all this trouble if you would let me go. I can take care of myself."

  "You were kidnapped."

  "And I escaped. What more do you want from me?" he snapped back.

  "I want you to think, Ezra. For once in your life, think about something besides yourself." Her voice stayed perfectly flat, the only indication of her anger in the tightness of her jaw.

  He almost laughed at that. "Think? You want me to think? All I do is think. You won't let me do anything else."

  "And yet somehow after all that thinking you never learn to clean up your own messes. Do you want to take a guess about why I smell like blood, little brother?"

  He flinched at her words. It hurt more because there was a kernel of truth in it.

  "Don't worry. No one touches you and gets away with it. It's been handled."

  Ezra let out a long breath as that worry fell off him. "Was it?"

  She nodded once. "We cleared the house where they tried to hold you." Her face was hard, but her hands were gentle as she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. She tilted his head up to the moonlight as if examining it for cracks. Though they were the same height, she seemed taller. "Stuart was frantic when he couldn't find you. The other siblings too. At first we feared the worst."

  He shrank one final bit he hadn't known he had left. "I'm sorry."

  "Then you know it's time you came home."

  "But—"

  He resisted even as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned him, looking back towards the sleeping cabin. It wasn't so sleepy after all.

  Morgan vaulted the railing, knife flashing in the blue moonlight, all fierceness in a way Ezra had never seen before. "Get away from him."

  Seraphine tsked impatiently and lifted a hand to swat him aside.

  Ezra knocked her hand back down. "Leave him alone."

  "So it really is like that."

  He didn't have a chance to answer before Morgan reached them, ready to start swinging. Ezra caught his wrist too and peeled the knife out of his fingers. There was no sense wasting any blood in a fight they were all going to lose. "She's my sister. One of them." He guided Morgan back a step, using his own body as leverage, taking as much comfort from the contact as Morgan seemed to. He smelled warm and spicy, like cinnamon now. Ezra kissed him to see if he could taste it on his lips.

  Morgan's arms came around his waist.

  Seraphine cleared her throat. "We weren't finished. I asked you a question, Ezra, and you still owe me an answer. What do you think you're doing here?" She didn't have to add with a human. He could hear it in her voice. She stood with her arms folded again and it made her look unmovable, like a warrior carved out of stone. She gazed between Ezra and Morgan. Her jaw clenched.

  Ezra turned in the circle of Morgan's arms, holding tightly to him to be sure he didn't let go. "I'm doing what I want. Finally."

  "You've always done whatever you wanted, Ezra. We coddled you too much." She sounded bored again. Dismissive. It hurt even though he was expecting it. And it made him angry. That he hadn't expected.

  "You're still not listening to me," he growled. "I've been your little doll. No going outside the walls alone. Wait my turn. Play nice with the friends you chose. Live the life you chose. I'm not doing it anymore. Now I get to choose."

  "So that's it, is it? You find a convenient new rescuer and you have no use for your family anymore?" She leveled a stare like an icepick on Morgan. "Not even a single call to tell us you were well."

  "It's not about him. I didn't call you because I knew you would be like this," Ezra said. He stomped one foot so he wouldn't scream. "I've waited years for you all to decide I was ready to be on my own and stop treating me like I'm made of glass. I missed everyone more than you know, but I'm not going back to that. You can't keep me locked up forever."

  Seraphine's expression darkened. "You know it's not up to me."

  Ezra pressed back into Morgan's body. "Does Mother know?"

  "Not so far. But she will."

  "Don't tell her. Please. I'm... happy."

  She actually looked sympathetic for a moment before the look vanished. "I won't have to tell her. She'll know it the second she steps foot in the building. You should know that too. I never wanted to be your jailer, Ez. But you know the rules." She looked pointedly at Morgan. "And you just broke at least a dozen. I hope it was worth it."

  Morgan growled something from behind him. "It has been," Ezra said.

  She nodded. "Good. But it has to be over now. You can't stay here."

  "No."

  "Ezra."

  "No. Not yet."

  "Mother will return soon. You can take it up with her, but you're coming home."

  "He's old enough to decide for himself," Morgan said. His arms tightened around Ezra.

  She stared hard at him before she spoke. "Don't interrupt, human. This doesn't concern you."

  "I think it does."

  "Ezra—"

  "Three more days." As his sister turned on him again, Ezra stiffened. But he'd made up his mind. "I'm promised to Morgan until New Year's. I need three more days. After that I'll return and I'll speak to Mother, but not before."

  Seraphine scowled at him. "Promised? To a human?"

  "Yes. To a human. It's still a promise. I gave my word."

  "You know I could pick you up right now, promise or not."

  "But you won't."

  She made a face, eyes crinkling in irritation and lips pursed like she'd suddenly inhaled a lemon. It was a familiar expression. She got it every time she lost at chess. It comforted him a little to see it now. That look belonged to his sister, not to the guardian, the one who was always slamming doors on him.

  She swore in something that sounded like Latin but was too fast for him to make out. "Fine. Three days. But if you don't march your spoiled ass home in three days I'll be back and I won't be happy about it."

  "Maybe you should send Stuart then. I wouldn't want you to trouble yourself."

  "Stuart is busy burning and burying the evidence of four deaths. They were Castor family, it looks like. So you'll be getting me."

  "Four?" He held himself rigid when he would rather have fallen. Four. He'd hoped so hard that he had been wrong or overreacting about who had been behind his kidnapping. That had seemed better than the alternative. Clan involvement meant more trouble for the whole family in the future.

  "Yes. The ones who took you had friends. That's how we figured out where you were. Clan doesn't mobilize outside the city like that unless there's a reason. We're dealing with it." She sighed. "I wish you had contacted us. We were worried. All of us." She held up three fingers as she retreated. "Three days. Don't be late."

  He nodded even though her back was turned. He wouldn't be.

  She disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared, a gust of wind carrying her off into the dark until he couldn't sense her anymore. He wasn't prepared for the loneliness her absence brought. Even though he was angry with her. Even though he'd meant every word that he'd said. A part of him still longed for his family.

  "Well she seems wonderful,"
Morgan said in a quiet voice when they were alone again.

  THE DARKENED BEDROOM ticked silently around them. Morgan had no idea what time it was anymore, only that they'd been lying in bed, Ezra curled into his side, for what felt like hours, without sleeping. Outside the wind sighed and swirled, but in the bed—quiet.

  They should talk about what would happen when the three days were up and Ezra had to return home. They should plan. Morgan had always been so good at planning. He used to make lists on rolls of paper like they were royal proclamations, back when he was a kid and thought he could get anywhere by car. Then he got older and graduated to organizing weapons and operations. Planning entries and exits. He'd been mapping his life one job at a time. Coming out to the cabin was supposed to simplify things so he could get his new life in order; instead it had just made everything more complicated.

  Ezra's sister was six feet of solid muscle and class in a black suit that probably cost more than a small country. Ezra had said they were wealthy—influential—and Morgan believed him, but nothing rammed the truth home as quickly as seeing what that meant in real, concrete terms. They were fucking vampires. Rich and beautiful and lethal. A fantasy made flesh.

  Morgan was still only himself and he didn't even know who the fuck that was anymore. He didn't have anything to offer besides shotgun in his car and... that was pretty much it. Without hunting, what was he? What did he want? What if it wasn't enough?

  And what was Ezra?

  They'd been living inside a bubble, but sooner or later it had to pop. What if Morgan stepped outside it and found himself alone? No hunting. No family. No Ezra. The idea chilled him.

  "So you're promised to me, huh?" Morgan said, speaking into the darkened bedroom.

  Ezra's teeth pricked his shoulder in a warning bite.

  "I'm just asking."

  There were a series of furtive movements beside him before Ezra rolled over, turning his back to Morgan. He seemed more vulnerable that way than when he'd been wrapped around Morgan's body like a vine. Morgan immediately set one hand against his back. He imagined he could feel the lines of the tattoo radiating out from beneath his fingers, but he knew it was only in his mind.

  "It's how we do things," Ezra said in a low voice. "I told you. We're very traditional. If you give your word to someone, that's supposed to mean something. It's supposed to be... special."

  He wanted to ask for more, more than just Ezra's word for the next few days. The question sat on his tongue like it had always lived there. Instead he said "thank you" and gathered Ezra as close as he could, kissing the nape of his neck. Just a little longer.

  9

  Morgan nearly dropped his mug as Ezra padded into the kitchen, barefoot and hair ruffled from sleep, naked except for the sweater he had claimed as his own. Ezra had solved the problem of having no spare clothes by walking around half naked whenever possible, but no matter how many times Morgan saw him it was like the first. His legs looked miles long. Morgan wanted them wrapped around him.

  They'd spent so much time touching in the two days since Seraphine's party crashing that Morgan could call up the feel of Ezra's skin from memory, the fluttering breaths he took when Morgan bit the sensitive spot at his inner thigh or sucked at his earlobe. He'd memorized the way Ezra's lips turned down in a habitual pout when he thought no one was watching. The tiny sigh just before Ezra drifted off to sleep. And after tomorrow Morgan might not have anything but memories.

  The uncertainty ate through him like acid.

  He held out one arm and Ezra folded himself into the embrace, becoming small as he did when there was something on his mind. Morgan figured he probably knew what it was. He offered his half-finished mug of hot chocolate to Ezra who took it and drained it down to the syrupy bottom in one swallow before setting it aside.

  Morgan kissed his temple.

  Don't think about it. Just enjoy the moment. It was becoming his new motto. Tomorrow might be shit but at least today the sun was shining and Ezra's hand was already creeping towards his belt. Morgan stopped him before it got there.

  Momentarily thwarted, Ezra wrapped his arms around Morgan's neck instead, pulling him along as he hopped up onto the counter in his usual perching spot. And just like always, he welcomed Morgan into his space, immediately moving in for a slow kiss full of soft lips and the scent of Ezra's skin. Morgan closed his eyes and let himself sink into it.

  Time was almost up. And whether he wanted it or not, the bubble was about to burst.

  Ezra's presence had crept into every corner of the cabin. His eyeliner beside the bathroom sink. The painted novelty rock on the bedside table beneath the lamp. But it wasn't until Morgan had found the blond hair tangled up in the knit of his sweater that it became real. He still wanted this so badly it hurt. He wanted Ezra so bad it hurt, not just what he represented but his smell and his taste and even his catty little laugh when Morgan slipped on the ice and fell on his ass.

  But Morgan was a coward. He couldn't be denied something he never asked for.

  "You didn't wake me," Ezra said, still leaning against him.

  "Aw, but you looked so cute sleeping with your face smashed into the pillow. I wanted to take a picture."

  Ezra gaped at him in horror. "You didn't."

  "I didn't, don't worry. But I thought about it." He'd done more than think about it. He'd gotten as far as grabbing his phone, intending to set the picture for his lock screen as a joke, but he'd stopped when the first text notification from his family appeared again, still unread. Instead he had set the phone down and walked away.

  Ezra bit his lip. He wanted to say something. It was written in every line of his body. But whatever it was, it stayed locked away and he stayed silent.

  Morgan pulled away. Slowly. It was getting harder and harder to do that too.

  Once he'd gotten his coat and boots on for the last round of shoveling, he turned back. Ezra hadn't moved from the counter. "Coming out?"

  Ezra shook his head without meeting Morgan's eye.

  Outside the sun was a dazzling bright white and, as promised, the weather was warmer than it had been in days, the snow already beginning to melt. Not quickly. But the drifts were shrinking, turning translucent and shiny as glass in the sun. That still left most of the long drive back to the main road to clear before his car would be able to make it through.

  A perverse part of him imagined shoveling all that snow back onto the drive and stranding them here another few days. Together. If he could put off the inevitable a little bit longer, hide here with Ezra, maybe he would be able to forget all his problems. That tactic hadn't worked in the last four days, but maybe with some practice...

  Morgan glared up at the crystal blue sky. "Couldn't have snowed just a little more, could you?"

  "Who are you talking to?"

  Morgan jumped and spun around.

  Ezra stood on the top step of the porch, properly dressed now, or at least properly dressed after his usual fashion. The boots were still a stretch, but he'd wrapped the scarf around his neck. He was nearly seasonal.

  Morgan beamed at the sight of him. Like a damn fool. "Changed your mind?"

  A faint grimace twisted Ezra's face before he nodded. He slipped his gift store sunglasses on, the ones with the rhinestones on the sides, and made his way slowly down the porch steps, his gait with that same air of visiting royalty. And maybe a little bit of caution since last time he'd nearly fallen on his face when he hit a patch of ice. They really needed to get him some sensible snow boots. Or not. Morgan realized a second too late that this might be it for them. Wherever Ezra went after this he probably wouldn't need snow boots and mittens and scarves. Hell, he might not even need Morgan.

  "I hate the snow." The vampire had reapplied his eyeliner and it gave his searching look an added edge. Morgan could fall right into those eyes.

  "That's just because you don't know how to properly appreciate it." Morgan drove the shovel into the snow and leaned an elbow on it. "Come play in the snow with me.
It'll be fun."

  Ezra arched one perfect brow. "Explain to me how standing in cold slush is enjoyable. Your nose is dripping and you look ridiculous." He folded his arms over his chest, oozing elegant disdain. His proud expression exploded into fury as Morgan's hastily packed snowball connected with his chest. Slush clung to the front of the sweater. He brushed the rest away with quick swipes, growling. "What the fuck was that for? Now I'm all wet."

  Morgan grinned at him. "Come play with me."

  "No." His eyes widened as Morgan leaned down to scoop up another handful of snow. He backed up a step. "Don't you dare."

  Morgan packed the snowball with extra care, eyes never leaving Ezra. "Or what?"

  The next snowball sailed through empty air as Ezra misted out of its path. He hit Morgan a second later, knocking him right off his feet as he shifted back and pinned him to the ground with his suddenly very material body. Ezra hissed like an angry cat.

  Morgan yanked him down for a kiss—laughing at Ezra's cry of "shit, your hands are freezing" before their lips met.

  "And I still hate the snow," Ezra murmured when Morgan released him. "But this part isn't terrible."

  Outrage had flushed his cheeks and his mouth was kiss bruised. Something wild fluttered in his eyes, brighter now that they were surrounded by snow and sunlight instead of buried under blankets in bed. God, he was beautiful.

  "I love you."

  The truth popped out so suddenly that Morgan almost forgot to panic. "Which I know is inconvenient since you're supposed to leave tomorrow and your sister already looked like she was plotting my murder. Not to mention my family probably has a bunch of rules against this sort of thing too. But..." He cupped Ezra's cheek with a gentle hand. "I do. And I'm not sure how these things usually work either because this is a first for me, but I was really hoping you might want more than this week. With me."