Frozen

by Meljean Brook

  As if recognizing the presence of food, my stomach rumbled. I ignored it. Eating wasn’t high on my list of priorities right now.

  Erik pulled a knife from a block on the center island. After a glance my way, he laid his left hand flat on the cutting board.

  This was what he meant to show me? My heart thumped wildly. “You are not.”

  “I am,” he said. “I don’t want you to think that you can just shoot the Hounds—or me—anywhere but the head and still expect to stop us.”

  “But—”

  He stabbed the back of his hand. I slapped my palms over my mouth, stopping my scream—then muffling my gasp, because the blade had slid off as if his skin were made of steel.

  “This is why I can’t jump off a cliff and stop the curse,” he said softly. “I could shoot myself with your gun and it wouldn’t do anything. Try it.”

  “Shoot you?”

  “Later.” Smiling a little, he held out the knife. “Go on.”

  “I don’t think so.” But I was curious. “Let me see you stab it again.”

  He did, but not his hand. My whole body flinched when he aimed the knife toward his heart—but the blade only ripped through the gray t-shirt, exposing a slice of skin beneath. No blood. Not even a scrape.

  Just a hard pectoral muscle dusted with dark hair. At least I had an excuse to stare.

  He held out the knife again. Dubious, I glanced at it. “I won’t hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what good is shooting you?” Or the Hounds.

  “It’s an exception. Nothing else can kill me.”

  That was a good thing. But also crazy. “How do you even learn something like that? What did the men in your family do—sit around shooting each other until you figured that out?”

  “Close enough.”

  That wasn’t the answer I expected. With a laugh, I asked, “Seriously?”

  A quick grin touched his mouth. “Invulnerability made some of them reckless. My grandfather told me how one of his great-uncles used to go around to taverns, making wagers that he could survive a musket shot to the chest. After a while, no one would take the bet anymore—so he upped the stakes and wagered that he could survive a shot to the head. He lost, and we figured out that as long as we’re not pulling the trigger, a bullet in the brain would kill us.”

  “Oh, God.” I shouldn’t laugh. But I was. And Erik was smiling, too, so he must not have taken offense on behalf of his uncle.

  He slid the knife toward me. “Try it.”

  I came closer, setting my bag on one of the barstools tucked up to the island. The knife handle was still heated by his grip. Erik flattened his hand against the counter, pale blue skin over gleaming black granite. I glanced up at him and he nodded.

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this. But I wasn’t just going to stab him. I wanted to see how that steel-skin thing worked.

  It didn’t. I dragged the point of the knife over the back of his hand. A line of blood welled up behind it.

  “Oh, my God!” The knife clattered to the counter and I scrambled for the roll of paper towels standing beside the sink. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  He tried to stop me. “Olivia, it’s all right.”

  No, it wasn’t. Throat tight, I pressed the wad of paper to the back of his hand. “Goddammit. Why didn’t that work? The witch’s blood again?”

  “No.” His uninjured hand covered mine. “It’s all right. Look.”

  Something inside me stilled. I looked up and saw the faint amusement in his smile. “You knew I’d be able to do that?”

  “Yes. I needed to show you—”

  “Because telling me wouldn’t accomplish the same thing?” I jerked my hands out from under his. My eyes were stinging. Jesus. I could have stabbed him. Maybe even right through the heart. I might have killed him. “You really felt you had to trick me into it?”

  Amusement gone, his face darkened. “No.”

  But he had. He’d said I couldn’t hurt him. And I’d been stupid enough to fall for it. Because now I remembered how slamming my foot between his legs had dropped him to his knees.

  If he hadn’t been on the other side of the island, I might have given him another swift kick. Instead I turned and walked away, my vision a blur and my throat a solid knot. I didn’t know where I was going. Back to the great room, maybe. Anywhere to be away from the stupid jackass who apparently thought that I could cut into someone and think it was all a joke.

  “Olivia.”

  My name sounded like the crack of a glacier—and came from directly behind me. It was all the warning I got. A steel band snagged around my waist and spun me to face him. My chest hit a solid wall of muscle. Wildly I fought for leverage, shoving against him, but he didn’t give an inch. His fingers tightened in my hair, forcing my head back. Frigid breath skimmed the side of my neck.

  Sudden terror snagged me in a frozen grip as I remembered his sharp teeth. Would he bite me now? Rip my throat out?

  God, I should have listened to him. I should have shot him.

  “Erik?” Fear made my voice sharp. Could he even hear me? “Erik, you’re losing it. You need to get this under—”

  Burning heat suddenly swept up my throat, followed by shocking cold. An involuntary shiver tightened my skin—then stunned disbelief stole my breath as I realized what he’d done.

  Erik had licked me.

  Licked me.

  Then groaned in pleasure, a sound so raw and carnal that my fear melted away in the rush of heat. That groan told me Erik was ravenous, but not for a bite. Just for a taste.

  I shuddered as he tasted me again, his fevered lips hot and his mouth cold. His tongue slicked from the hollow of my throat to the edge of my jaw, drawing another tremor from my tense muscles. Though my heart thundered, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. This wasn’t what I’d expected, and no matter how many times I’d dreamed of this, my brain hadn’t yet caught up with the response of my body. I simply couldn’t believe that Erik was holding me and burning the length of my throat with his lips.

  Even though he couldn’t stand being around me.

  A heavy knot lodged in my chest. No wonder my brain couldn’t accept what was happening; some part of me must have recognized that it made no sense at all. He’d lost control and come after me. But he couldn’t stand being near me, so this wasn’t what he wanted to do. It was what the curse was making him do.

  Hoarsely I said, “Put me down.”

  Erik growled. Abruptly the arm around my waist lifted me higher, dragging me up over the thick ridge of his erection. Uncontrollable need speared through me, a clenching ache between my thighs—but this wasn’t going to happen right now. Not while my heart was hurting like this.

  “Put me down, damn it!”

  This time, my command must have gotten through to him. He stilled, but he didn’t release me. He held me against his broad chest, his face buried in my throat, his breath cold and harsh against my neck.

  I struggled against his grip. “Erik—”

  “I can’t let you go. God, Olivia.” Agonized tension roughened his voice. “Do it now.”

  Shoot him? “I don’t have my bag. So either get yourself under control right now or you’re going to hurt me.”

  His big body stiffened. “I won’t hurt you.”

  I knew he wouldn’t intend to. But if he continued like this, he would. “Then fight it,” I told him.

  A shudder wracked his body. His head lifted. Ice began to climb his legs—but not his hands. “I can’t let you go yet,” he said hoarsely against my ear.

  Just like before, when he’d taken a few minutes to regain control—except this time he was holding me. I nodded, trying to ignore the feel of his cock wedged into the juncture of my thighs, afraid the only sound that might emerge would be a needy whimper. He’d begun rocking between my legs—the barest of movements. I didn’t even know if he was aware of doing it.

  Breathlessly I said, “Tell me what happened. You h
ad control just a few seconds ago.”

  “You walked away.” His arm constricted around me. “And I lost it.”

  Okay. That made sense. The curse forced him to find me wherever I was. When it seemed like I was running away, the need to go after me overwhelmed him.

  But I couldn’t answer. The subtle movement between my thighs was slowly winding me up, and every time I tried to focus on something else another rock of his hips dragged my attention back to the increasing ache inside me, the wet and heat. God, I was on the verge of grinding against his rigid length just to ease the tension.

  “I’m sorry, Olivia,” he said softly. “The knife wasn’t a trick.”

  Anger helped me find my voice again. “Then what the hell made you think that I’d want to hurt you any more than you like hurting me?”

  “It didn’t hurt me. That’s what I wanted to show you. Look at my hand.”

  “I can’t,” I said tightly. “It’s in my hair.”

  He froze, as if suddenly realizing exactly how he was holding me—his hips between my thighs, his fingers still fisted in the hair at my nape, his arm wrapped around my waist. In the silence I could almost hear my heart hammering against my ribs.

  He’d held me like this before. I couldn’t stop the memory sweeping through me, the sweet tension drawing each second out into an eternity that had begun eighteen months ago. I remembered the brush of his thumb, wiping away pizza sauce from the corner of my lips. The intensity of his pale blue gaze as it rose from my mouth to meet my eyes. The way he’d watched me as he’d leaned in, and the softness as our lips had met, his breath warming my skin. Then the hunger that pushed us to our feet and the sudden desperation in our kiss.

  I could still hear his groan when my fingers had tangled in his hair and my mouth had opened beneath his. I could still taste him, the demanding thrust of his tongue, the slick heat. I could still feel his hand against my back, hauling me closer, and my absolute certainty that this man would be everything I’d wanted in a lover and partner and friend—and how he’d kissed me as if he never wanted it to end.

  Yet it had ended. So quickly. In the months that had followed, I’d relived that kiss a thousand times, burning with hope and anticipation, still so certain that Erik would be mine. But even after I made the decision to forget him, I’d relived that kiss a thousand times more.

  I imagined lifting my mouth to his now, to see if it would be anything like I remembered. But kissing him might destroy his control—and I wouldn’t know if he kissed me because he wanted to, or because the curse didn’t give him any other choice.

  And he still hadn’t let me go.

  I thought he was trying to. He angled his head back, as if pulling away, but he didn’t go far. He stopped with his mouth against my cheekbone, the stubble on his jaw gently scraping the delicate skin.

  Another second passed, and I felt his silent struggle before the steel band of his arm finally loosened around my middle and his fingers eased from my hair. Releasing me.

  I tried not to be sorry that he could. This was what I wanted—and I was supposed to be looking at his hand.

  Mindful of the ice on the floor and the columns surrounding his feet and legs, I carefully turned—not breaking away, not running away. Just slowly pivoting and slipping out of his embrace, but still touching him. My fingers ran down his left forearm and he lifted his hand for my inspection.

  No blood, no trace of the cut I’d made. Astonished, I skimmed the tip of my forefinger down the line that should have been there. Not even a scar. Just feverishly hot skin and strong fingers, the tendons in the back of his hand rigid beneath my touch.

  “How quickly did it heal?”

  “A few seconds.”

  The tautness of his reply made me look up. His eyes had paled again.

  Maybe because I was all but stroking his hand. I let him go, still standing close—still not running away. “So what did this have to do with the Hounds?”

  His fingers clenched into a fist. Ice began climbing his arm. “I needed you to see that even though it looks like you’re hurting us, you aren’t.”

  “That’s not true. I hurt you when I kicked you. You felt pain.”

  “For a few seconds. Not long enough. So a head shot is the only way. The blood doesn’t mean anything—but the Hounds might have tricked you into believing it did.”

  I supposed that was true—and despite Erik telling me that I had to go for the head, if one of the Hounds had threatened me I would have shot his leg first. Or aimed for his chest, just because it was a bigger target. But unloading a full clip into a Hound would have hardly slowed him down.

  A few seconds of pain. Oh, my God.

  My heart in my throat, I whispered, “Last year, your dad used an axe to stop you from coming after me. Did it take any longer to heal than this cut did?”

  His expression like a stone wall, Erik met my eyes. “No.”

  “Then he did it again?”

  “Yes.”

  “All night?” Hundreds of times. Maybe thousands.

  He answered with a short nod.

  “Jesus, Erik.” I didn’t know what else to say. A few seconds to heal, then his bones shattered again. He couldn’t tell me that hadn’t hurt—or that over the course of the night, those few seconds hadn’t added up to an agonizing hell. “No wonder he wouldn’t do it again.”

  Erik’s jaw clenched. Still pissed at his father for sending me here. So was I. But I couldn’t blame the man for refusing to torture his son again.

  And his son had withstood that torture to save me.

  How could I ever repay him? Not with a bullet. “Erik—”

  “Don’t.” Voice harsh, he shook his head. A thundercloud of a frown darkened his face. “Don’t thank me for not hunting you down. Stopping himself is what a man should do, no matter what it takes. No gratitude necessary.”

  He was right. But not everyone took the hard road. Some people used any excuse possible not to take that road, and they were fully human, not laboring under a curse. So Erik had my gratitude whether he wanted it or not—and I would damn well discover a way to keep him from sacrificing himself for me again.

  A sharp stone seemed lodged in my throat. After the way he’d come for me, I suspected that what he was sacrificing himself for wasn’t exactly what he’d told me.

  “When you attack me,” I said slowly, “you’re not going to try to kill me, are you? That’s not what the curse is.”

  His jaw tightened. “Olivia—”

  “I deserve to know, Erik.”

  But I already knew. The sudden despair that lined his face told me the truth.

  Yet it was still a shock when Erik said hoarsely, “I’ll fuck you.” His rough response stole my breath, stopped every thought. “I won’t have a choice. You won’t either, because I’ll come after you. I’ll hold you down and force myself inside you. You can fight back, but I won’t feel it. You can run, but I’ll take you wherever I find you, even if you’ll freeze to death in the snow. Even if you consented, I won’t make you ready for me, and I won’t stop until I’m done. So you have to stop me first.”

  By killing him. Because he might hurt me. But in the end, there wasn’t much difference between what I thought before and what I knew now.

  “Olivia,” he said softly, and I knew that he was going to tell me to shoot him again, but I couldn’t bear to hear it.

  Numbly I shook my head. “It changes nothing. Not really. Driving out of here is still my best option.”

  Teeth clenched and eyes diamond, he stared at my face for an endless moment before turning sharply away. His skin lightened to blue as he stalked into the hall. “I’ve got Hounds to kill. Then we’ll get you the hell away from me.”

  Chapter Five

  The snow arrived just after ten. Frigid blasts of wind quickly followed. The temperature dropped. I held out as long as I could in the gatehouse. I might have lasted longer if I’d been moving around, but even using my hand warmers it was too cold to sim
ply stand outside. The icy air seemed to be biting through my jeans as I searched for any sign of Erik in the swirling white. I hated leaving him out there alone with the Hounds—but I couldn’t do anything to help, anyway, except to listen for his return and raise the portcullis again.

  Inside the great room, I dragged off my boots and coat. Building a fire seemed like too much effort, so I simply curled up on the sofa and draped a heavy throw over my shivering body. While I warmed up, I forced myself to eat a protein bar from my bag, but only got halfway through it. The dense chocolate was hardened by the chill in the house, tough to chew, and sat like lead in my gut. Erik probably wouldn’t care if I raided his kitchen for something better, but I didn’t feel hungry anyway.

  I hadn’t felt much of anything since realizing what the curse was.

  Even huddled beneath the thick blanket, I was numb all the way through. Hours had passed since Erik had told me the truth. The knowledge seemed wedged into my brain like the blade of an axe in a chunk of wood—so sharp and cold that I could barely think of anything else. But although I’d been constantly aware of the truth, I hadn’t thought beyond it. I needed to, though, because the solstice wasn’t that far away.

  It changes nothing, I’d told him. That was mostly true. Erik still needed to stop the Hounds. I still needed to get away from him before he lost control.

  But if I didn’t get away, it changed everything. Because Erik fucking me was much different from him hurting me. One was terrifying, and I’d do anything to stop it.

  One was something I wanted, and I’d probably let it happen.

  My throat burned. And there it was—the reason why I really didn’t want to think about this. More than once in the past few hours, I’d caught myself imagining it…and my reaction hadn’t been fear, but—God help me—excitement. Arousal. I hated myself for it. Under any other circumstances, my desire would have made sense. I’d fantasized about him for more than a year. But it didn’t make sense now. We were in a horrifying situation. I should have been fighting it as hard as Erik was, yet I’d jumped straight to acceptance and was already planning to drop my panties.