by Viola Grace
Chapter Six
The interior was more modern than the exterior with the wide porch, but the kitchen was elegant and sleek with shining countertops. It was all in white, which was on brand.
“Your home looks... cozy.”
He laughed. “It is rather cold, I know, but it suits me.”
Elly opened her travel mug and took out an ice cube, sucking on it slowly. After a moment, she popped it into her cheek and said, “So, where is the studio?”
She took off her boots in the entryway and set them next to his shoes. He carried her bag and said, “This way.”
They walked through the main floor and through a door that led to some kind of addition. The sleek lines of the walls changed abruptly, and Elly was soon standing in the sound room of a very high-tech studio. “You were not kidding.”
He chuckled. “I was not kidding.”
She pulled out her tablet and got a signal. She downloaded the file from Anthony. She flicked through it and said, “Chapter three, first scene?”
“Yeah. You do that, and I will get everything on. If you remove your coat and head into the sound booth, I can get some levels.” He smiled and shucked off his own coat, hanging it on a peg mounted on the wall.
She slithered out of her coat, hung it up, and then pulled her sweater up and over her head, leaving her in her tank top and skirt. She really needed to cool down.
She took the tablet into the sound booth, and when the light went red, he asked, “Can you just talk a bit to give me a level?”
She set the tablet on a stand and started her read from the female hero’s perspective. The conversation was cute, teasing, and she could barely believe that it had been written by a guy. The heroine was witty, smart, and had an awareness of self that rarely cropped up when a guy was doing the writing.
When the guy spoke, she tried to pitch her voice, but she stumbled. She tried again, and there was no way that her throat wanted to make that low pitch. “Sorry. I don’t think I am suited for this.”
He smiled. “I will be there in a minute.”
He set some things on the board, came around, and did a test on the second of two mics, and then, he grabbed a chair and set the height.
The whole time he was doing this, he brushed against her as he moved around the room. She swallowed and got another ice cube. She was holding it and sucking on it slowly when he returned to sit, and his icy blue eyes got hot.
She swallowed slowly. “Ready?” Her voice was a little husky. She nodded, and he did a finger countdown with long and elegant fingers. She was so fixated that he tapped her nose, and she blushed and focused.
They went through a few runs of the segment. He used a dog clicker to create the spike in the sound for editing purposes. When they got through the scene, she was hot again, but it was definitely a different thing.
“Um, right. So, I should call that cab.” She was only a few inches from him, but she wanted to get closer. She wanted to stroke his hair and feather kisses across his lips. The weird thing was that she felt like she had already done it.
He nodded. “Right. I can drive you in if they can’t come out.”
“That shouldn’t be necessary.” She eased past him, and he leaned back. She exhaled in relief when she made it out of the sound booth, and she crossed to her coat and bag. The tablet. She turned, and Mr. Winter was standing there with the object she was looking for. He handed it to her without trying anything cute. They didn’t say anything else, just walked back down the hall and to the main house.
When she looked out the window and saw unrelieved white, she paused. “Uh, oh.”
He paused next to her and looked surprised. “That wasn’t forecasted.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She picked up her phone, and the app listed her wait for a cab at four hours. She checked, and travel was not recommended. “Oh, damn.”
“I can drive you in.”
“It says that travel is not recommended, and this area is getting hit particularly hard.”
He smiled kindly. “Would you stay overnight? I can make you dinner, and I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
Damn. “That’s great. Thank you. I will just crash on the couch.”
“Not necessary. I have six guestrooms. This is a farmhouse, after all.”
“Oh. Right.”
He took her bag and set it down on the bench then hung her coat up in the entryway. “I even have a charger for your phone.”
She smiled. “So do I.”
“So. Dinner?”
“Please.”
She sat on the kitchen stool and watched him, peeling or chopping as he handed things to her with the appropriate implements.
After a few minutes with no idea what was being made, she asked, “So, why did you move out here?”
“It is quiet, it is solitary, good for writing.”
“You live here alone?” She looked around at the enormous space that seemed designed for television romances.
He nodded and started to throw onions and meat into a dutch oven. “I do. I like the quiet.”
“I am sorry to impose.”
He grinned. “My fault. I insisted you come here. I have no idea where that storm came from.” He genuinely looked puzzled.
“The sky?” She chuckled, and he browned the meat before tossing in the veg she had chopped. It looked like stew was going to happen.
He added wine, stock, herbs, and two bay leaves. She enjoyed the scents until he put the lid on.
He chuckled. “I haven’t been able to make myself use the pressure cooker yet. It just unsettles me to cook that quickly.”
She grinned.
He pulled out some focaccia in a plastic pack, and he sighed. “To think, you used to have to do this from scratch every time.”
“Did you want to make a roux to thicken it, or should I?” Elly smiled.
“I tend to burn them, so please, show me how it’s done.”
She got the flour, butter, and a small non-stick pan and was stirring slowly as the butter spread out and foamed. The flour went in, and then, she stirred it gently until everything wadded up. When the wad started to relax, she stirred again, and as the whole thing relaxed, she started to smell toasted nuts. It was light brown and would easily thicken the entire pot of stew.
“Huh. And it just sits like that now?”
“Yup. You can even do a bunch and keep it in the fridge.” She chuckled. “I try to work time management into just about everything.”
She was hot, thirsty, and the snow outside was tempting. He got her a glass of ice water, and she gulped it down before she could say, “Thank you.” She held the glass out for more. “Please.”
He got her another glass and said, “I should have made us some tea before we did the reading.”
She chuckled. “It wouldn’t have done much unless it was iced. That appointment can’t come soon enough.”
“Have you looked up the symptoms?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but they don’t apply to me. There was no way I could have acquired the symptoms in the modern world.”
He nodded and headed for the living room with a pitcher of ice water. She followed him, and while he started a fire in the fireplace, she settled on the couch. She exhaled and drank more water. “I hate to ask this, but where is the bathroom? I think it is going to be a sooner rather than later issue.”
He chuckled and kept building the fire into a cheerful crackle.
He thudded to the couch and pointed. “Down that hall, first door on the left.”
Elly smiled. “Thanks. So, what does the V in V.R. Winter stand for?”
He grinned. “My first name.”
She snorted. “Fine, Mr. Winter.”
She closed her eyes and felt the respite that the cold water had offered.
“Has it been getting worse? The sensation of heat, I mean.” He frowned.
“Yeah. Every day it gets a little more intense.
I am going to start going into work in a sports bra soon.” She looked down and saw her bare arms. “When did I remove the sweater?”
“Before we recorded the audio sample.”
“Oh. It’s in the studio.” She smiled. “I will go and get it. I don’t want to have parts of me scattered in your home.”
He nodded. “You remember the way?”
She chuckled. “Yeah. There are a finite number of places I could end up. Right?”
She headed back the way she had come, found her sweater, and then returned to the living room. She was being drawn by the scent of cooking food and had just locked on the white glow of Mr. Winter’s hair when the lights went out.
“Oh, you have to be kidding.”
She went to her phone and quickly thumbed it off. She knew that one. It would constantly be searching for Wi-Fi and kill the battery. She only had thirty percent left, so it was a relief that she had the presence of mind to do that.
The light outside was the weird blue of a blizzard. “Ellora, are you all right?”
She sighed and carried her sweater with her. “I am. I got the sweater.” She returned to the couch and grimaced. “I guess that takes care of dinner. At least we can eat the bread.”
He tsked. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
Mr. Winter got up and moved into the kitchen by the firelight, and he hauled out some large black cookware, transferred the stew into it, and brought it over to the fire, swinging the pot over the fire and sitting back with a smile.
She smiled. “You cook in cast iron often?”
“It helps when writing to have the tools available to get the experiences correct.”
“Uh, that book is a romance.”
He grinned. “And sometimes I use my imagination.”
She chuckled as he arranged coals under the pot, and the stew resumed its cooking with barely a pause. When his hand swung the pot over the prepared spot, her memory shattered into a thousand glittering shards.
Elly bent double as her memory surged back to her. How could she have forgotten that?
She remembered every moment with him, every touch, every whisper, and every word exchanged between them. Wait a fucking minute.
“You know, Mr. Winter, that I find your gall astonishing.”
He turned on his knees and faced her. “I beg your pardon.”
She got up and walked over to him. She bent so that their faces were inches away. “You used our time together in your damned book.”
His eyes went wide, and he wrapped his arms around her. The kiss was intense, and she held onto his cool body, rubbing and writhing against him.
He fell back, and she hiked up her skirt to straddle him.
He rolled her to her back and said, “I am guessing that you missed me as well.”
She growled. “I didn’t know that I did until I saw the thing that jogged my memory. That moment, it all rushed back to me, and now, here you are. How the heck are you here, by the way?”
He smiled and licked at her lips lightly. “I have always been able to move between realms, but it has taken me some time to catch up to the present.”
She undulated her hips against him. “I am glad you caught up, but could you be inside me, please.”
Voronwe smiled out of his human-looking face. “I believe I can manage that, but I want you naked.”
She shoved at him, and he fell to the side, laughing slightly. Her clothing went flying, and he had to rescue her nylons from a date with the flames. When she was staring at him, he nodded to her hair. “Let it down.”
She pulled the pencil that she used to keep her hair up and tossed it on top of her heap of clothing. Her hair slowly uncoiled and rippled around her shoulders and to the middle of her back. “Anything else? Pole dancing, maybe?”
He grinned. “You pole dance?”
She blushed. Being this close to him was increasing the heat in her system. “Not as a rule. No.”
He crawled toward her. “But you have. I can see it in your expression.”
The light from the flames flickered over him, and she sighed. “Fuck it.” She got to her feet and walked to the door, hiking into the blizzard butt naked.
If he wouldn’t cool her down. She would.
Chapter Seven
Elly felt the arms around her, and he lifted her against him, holding her tight as he walked back into the house.
He set her on the couch and wrapped her in the throw, rubbing her arms and legs and feet. “This takes me back.”
She chuckled. “I was wearing more the last time.”
“Hah. Not much. Why did you walk into the snow?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I told you. I am hot. Since you are here, I suppose it would be what I found in my research. Frostbite.”
He scowled, sat, and pulled her into his lap. “You didn’t eat anything while you were there.”
She winced. “That is not precisely accurate.”
“What do you mean?”
She blushed and looked into the fire. “You were sitting in the chair. I went down on my knees and...”
He touched her face, and he whispered, “And you swallowed.”
“Yeah. And then, I was back here and didn’t remember, but now, I do, and it makes sense. Don’t consume anything in the hall of the winter king.”
He sighed. “I am sorry.”
“Well, fortunately, there is a cure.”
He paused. “There is?”
“Sure. One night with you should cancel out the fire.” She looked at him. “Are you willing to pay that price?”
He kissed her and cupped her breast. Her body relaxed at the cool of his touch. He whispered, “I am sorry I was playing while you were in distress.”
“Apologize later.” She held his head and kissed him as the heat started to rise again.
He took her demand seriously, and his own clothing was peeled off and pried out of. When his skin was next to hers, she sighed. She rocked her hips against him, sliding up and down until he held her hips, lined his cock up with her opening, and thrust upward as he held her in position.
They were lying across the couch, and as she started to rise and fall on him, his human seeming faded away. She smiled at the blizzard of flakes that were moving under his skin and rocked on him for what felt like blissful hours. The cool feel of him inside her was magical, and the look in his eyes was enough to keep her soul warm. She moaned as he cupped her breasts, and she rocked her hips against him until she gasped and froze as ripples of cold and hot ran through her system. He moved inside her slowly, and when she drooped, he lunged up, pinned her to the couch, and covered her body with his as he undulated into her in that specific way of his. The slow grind as he slid into her pressed against her clit, and she sighed and moaned with every thrust.
He pinned her arms over her head and lowered himself to rub against her; she groaned and arched against him, undulating her hips. She locked her legs around him and continued the slow motions to match his, surprised when he kissed her and paused.
He froze, deep inside her, while he kissed her slowly, gently, carefully. She heard the thudding in her ears slow as she returned the kiss, her body relaxed from the near-orgasm tension that she had been feeling. She relaxed and tasted mint as his tongue slid along hers. She slowly, lazily, started to move her hips against his, and he shifted slightly, triggering the orgasm that she thought had faded. She pulled her mouth from his and arched her head, shivering around him and under him.
He licked her neck slowly, and when her body stopped clenching, he thrust a handful of times deliberately, and he groaned against her throat.
She sighed and flexed her fingers against his. He lifted his head and pressed his forehead to hers. “It is good to have you with me, Ellora.”
She nodded and kissed his lips. “It is good to have you with me, Voronwe. How long are you staying?”
He leaned up and smiled. “As long as you will have
me.”
She grinned. “That is a very long time indeed.”
“I thought we could remain here, have a family, and then move back to the winter palace for your retirement. We can spend centuries there in the blink of an eye in the human world.”
“Centuries? How long did it take you to get here?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I had trouble learning to use search engines, so we spent a few centuries on that. It took a few days in your realm. After that, it was learning a skill that was marketable and would get me an introduction to you. Becoming an author was all I could think of.”
She smiled and flexed her hand against his. “I really want to stroke your hair, but my hands seem to be restrained.”
“You don’t say. Why do you want to touch my hair?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I like it. I like the snowflakes under your skin, the silk of your hair, blue of your eyes, points of your ears, and the quirk of your smile.”
He looked embarrassed. “Is that all you like?”
“Yes, but I love the feel of you inside me.” She chuckled, and her eyes widened. “Oh.”
He released her hands, slid his hands under her back, and moved them until she was astride his lap with his renewed erection inside her. “You have the most wonderful way with words.”
She smiled and held onto his shoulders. “Thanks. I work with a lot of good authors, some mediocre ones, and a lot of bad ones. Which will you be?”
He cocked his head. “I am willing to work very hard to learn what it takes to thrive here.”
She snorted and shifted on him. He cupped her hips and started to lift and lower her slowly. “This is not what is going to keep you around. Sales are what will keep you published.”
Voronwe smiled. “You are very serious about this.”
“I suppose I am. A good writer can lift the spirit or send a reader into sorrow. If you don’t engage with the reader, nothing happens.” It was a strange conversation to be having just then.
“How are you feeling?”