“Wait…you…you showed me?” Jack straightens, staring at my mother.
She smiles crookedly. “Never trust a woman in a veil, darling, unless she’s your wife.”
Holy horned…shit. My mother was that creepy veiled bitch? Seems like she’s had a lot of costume changes in the past few years.
My eyes find my sister, who’s looking worn around the edges herself. “But you knew? For how long?”
“For a few years.” She swallows hard but lifts her chin. “She needed the fail-safe, Seph. Once Mom figured out the only way to get you to harness your powers was to kill you, well—”
“Harness my powers?”
Jett is looking at me, her lapis eyes wary, like a wild thing in a trap. “You’re Spring, Seph. Just like Mom said. Rebirth is your thing. But you needed to learn how to control it. Otherwise…” She shudders. This is what Jett meant, in Herne’s chamber. Do it right this time.
Holy shit.
Jack ignores Jett, his eyes frigid as they flicker back to my mom. “Why were you looking at our future in the first place?”
I already know the answer to Jack’s question. I roll my eyes. “She can’t help herself.”
Jett folds her arms and raises one thin, dark eyebrow. “And Mom was trying to figure out when Herne was going to show up again, to make sure he didn’t kill us all.”
Oh.
Mom smiles tremulously. “I also wanted to see if I ever got grandchildren.”
I shift my feet. “And?”
“I never got that far. You and Jack fell in love—after a few relatively minor setbacks. You married and were on your way to having babies and making me absurdly happy.”
Jack’s happily ever after. “What happened?”
Her face darkens. “Herne happened. He wasn’t Cerunnos in that timeline, he’d taken another form, though he was just as much of a prick as ever. Because of you and Jack, witches got the key to elemental magic, just like he’d always feared. It infuriated him. He went after Jack first, managed to kill him—”
I suck in a breath as Jack’s fingers tighten on mine.
“—and you went crazy, Seph. The grief took hold of you and you lost it. You’d never used the magic before, you see, not properly. You’d never had to in that timeline. It went wild, flipped your power inside out and…”
“I destroyed everything bringing him back.”
“Pretty much.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth a long time ago?” Jack snaps. “Save everyone a lot of grief.”
“You, Jack Frost, are not a man who accepts ultimatums well. Especially before you met my daughter. Can you imagine what you would have done if I'd come to you all those years ago and said, ‘You're going to fall in love with my daughter, but she goes bonkers when you die, so you have to kill her first’?
She gives him a measured look. “I don't have to imagine—I lived it, mister. It didn't go well. So I backed up and went with the ‘prophecy.’ Slipped it deep into the past and tied it to both you and Seph so that you'd remember it and feel the connection when you saw her. Rhymes are powerful things and they're kind of my specialty, you know.” Her smile at me is shy, but dazzling. “You and Jack were always meant to be—written in the stars. I never lied about that.”
I believe her because I know what I feel for the man beside me. But still… “Astrology is bullshit, Mother.”
“That’s what most humans believe about magic.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes. But I know what she’s asking for.
Forgiveness. I look down at those slender fingers, so like my own, and swallow.
“But Georg…” I say hesitantly. “Couldn’t you have fixed that?”
Ajax flinches. Syana moves from me to him, wrapping her arm around his waist. Like I’m a ghost again, my head fills with memories, overflowing and spilling everywhere.
A skinny, ten-year-old Georg teasing me, climbing up a tree with one of my dolls. Shaking it and laughing down at me. Until I send a simple cutting spell at the branch he’s on and watch his arrogant face go comically blank right before it crashes to the ground.
Him swimming toward me in the night, his golden-brown eyes intent and focused. That was the first time I realized he might be falling in love with me.
Drinking tequila around the fire.
His proposal as fireworks exploded around us. His promise of refuge when I was at the Den.
Jack may be my destiny, but I loved Georg, too. His death for our happiness seems unbearably cruel.
“That wasn't me. I swear I tried to stop it. But that was the magic,” Mom says quietly, her grip tightening. “He broke a vow. Not everyone gets a happily ever after, sweetie. No matter how much you fiddle with time.”
“Then how can you know even now that things will end happily ever after for everyone?”
“Oh, I don’t, darling, I don’t. But with Herne finally out of our lives for good…” She nibbles her lips, looking pensive for a moment before continuing. “I’m sure you and Jack get yours now. At the very least, you won’t be ending the world anytime soon. You’ve got a nice hold on your power now.”
I suppose she’s right. Trial by fire will do that.
Something is nagging at me. Then I realize what it is and I look at the house, wondering why it’s so quiet. Where are Ana and Carly? “You’re done now, right? Messing with things? This crap better have taught you a lesson.”
“Of course, darling.”
But she won’t quite meet my eyes.
“Mom…where are Ana and Carly?”
Jett coughs and shakes her head once when I look at her.
“It’s nothing to do with you, dear. And nothing nearly as serious as what you and Jack went through.” She laughs lightly and lets go of my hand. “But your sisters are going to be occupied for a while. Don’t fuss. I’ve got it all under control.”
I reach for her arm, but Jack is already pulling me away, recognizing that my batty mother isn’t going to tell us anymore. Not today.
Which is fine, really. My head is already on the verge of exploding. But then I grab my mom and hug her tight, feeling her heart beating light and fast next to my own. “I don’t know if I forgive you, not yet. But I will.”
She gives a watery laugh. “I know.” Then she pulls away to busy herself with the flowers, pinching off one withered bud after another, muttering to herself.
Syana also hugs me one more time before Ajax manages to pull her away. I swear time with the bruins has turned her positively handsy. He assures me again that Stephen was telling the truth, Syana is free of the moon madness. The cure works. She’s still a werewolf, of course, but all in all, I’ll take it.
Jett catches up with Jack and me on the sidewalk. Jack takes one look at her face, squeezes my hand and goes inside, the wards against him apparently null and void. Guess dying kind of wipes more than one slate clean. And it’s not like he’s exactly the same person anymore. Death does that to a person.
I should know.
Looking at the person most directly responsible for causing my death makes me aware of that like nothing else can. My sister. Murderer. I get why she was so angry now. Mom was asking her for more than any of us. But Jett did it.
She opens her mouth to say something, but I shake my head. “Shut it, Jett. We both know there’s nothing you can say that will make it better.”
With a stiff nod, Jett starts to turn back around, but before she can I yank her to me in a hard hug. It seems to be a hugging kind of day. She flinches, then wraps her arms around me gingerly at first, before squeezing more firmly, until she’s holding me just as tightly as I’m holding her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back. And that is that.
Jack is waiting for me inside at the foot of the stairs, looking no worse for having been briefly dead. I look down at my own body and wonder if I still look the same. It still feels weird to see people actually looking at me, feeling me, hearing me. I am never
going to take that shit for granted again.
Life is hard. Life is bullshit and cruel, cold and stupid.
It’s also incredibly awesome and a damn sight better than the alternative.
“I want sex,” I say, right before I reach him. Life is also hot, dirty sex.
It’s so good to be back.
He lifts an eyebrow. “I think that can be arranged.” Jack dips his head into the crook of my neck as we walk up the stairs, his warm breath tickling my ear the most exquisite sensation I’ve ever known. “You’re in so much fucking trouble, princess.”
Something warm and liquid trickles down my spine at the familiar words. It pools low in my gut as he opens the door and kicks it shut behind us.
I do like trouble.
22
He pushes me back against the door as soon as we’re inside, my wrists above my head, shackled in his warm fingers. Mmm, yes. Definitely liking trouble.
But…
“Jack. We need to figure out what Mom is up to.”
“No. We fucking don’t. I’m alive. You’re alive. Right now I don’t give a shit about anything else.”
“When I asked for sex, I wasn’t thinking straight. My mom is outside,” I hiss. He laughs as he slides his free hand under my shirt and rips it from my body, making me gasp.
“Yet another thing I don’t give a shit about.” But he goes still for a moment and I feel the door at my back settle in its frame. He’s warded the room. No one is gonna get in…or out. Not that I plan on going anywhere. Ever again. Jack is mine, finally and forever mine.
I smile at him even though my stomach is trembling. “You’re gonna have to stop calling me that, you know. Princess. I’m gonna be a queen. Your queen.”
He smiles back but doesn’t look up, as his fingertips flick over the front closure of my bra. “Yes. But not yet. First I get to fuck you silly on your pretty pink bed.”
He’s staring when my breasts fall free, my upper half naked, my skirt twisted up around my waist. His eyes are doing that dark, swirly thing again. My throat goes dry and my nipples tighten to hard points, but I manage to croak, “That been a fantasy of yours for awhile, Frost?”
“You’ve no idea,” he growls, right before his mouth crushes mine. He’s groaning when he pulls back. “The taste of you. I thought you were dead. I thought I fucking lost you.”
“Back at you, sweetheart.”
He snorts. “You only had a few minutes to deal with my death. I had months, Persephone—129 days to be precise.” He pauses, meeting my eyes. “I think it drove me a little insane.”
His words are trying for light, but I can see his face and the new lines there. FTCs aren’t supposed to age, but Jack gained a couple years in the time we were apart.
“I’m sorry about what my mom did,” I whisper. “What I did—“
Jack leans over, putting a finger to my lips. “Shut up. We’re past all apologies. You understand me?”
“Yes sir, fucking sir,” I mumble against his touch and he laughs.
His fingertip slips past my lips and I suck the pad lightly, eliciting a groan from him before I nip it with my teeth.
“Watch it, baby,” he says. “I bite back.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
“By the way,” he asks before shoving my skirt higher around my waist. “I had this very interesting fantasy, not so long ago, right here in that very bed. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”
“Well.” I look up at him, lifting my eyebrows. “This one time, at ghost camp…”
“I thought so.” His laugh rolls over me again. Jack happy is something new, something to savor. I can’t help but laugh with him.
Then his free hand is between my thighs. My laughter fades away as my breath starts to hitch. My trapped hands clench. There’s not enough oxygen in the room, not enough in the whole world for this feeling. This greedy, desperate feeling. My brain shuts off like Jack just hit a switch. I can’t take it.
All those months, months of maddening nothingness. Of starving for the slightest touch, the slightest bit of warmth. My nerves track the progress of those rough fingers up my thigh, sending shivers up my spine as they trail over the sensitive skin. Higher. His fingertips brush between my legs, teasing the seam of my pussy through my panties. My head falls back and my knees go weak. I need him inside me, filling me. Everything inside me tightens until I’m half out of my mind. Jack knows what he’s doing to me. I can see it in his eyes. And the bastard smiles and takes his hand away.
“Jack,” I whimper, my hips trying to follow his touch.
“You’re soaked.”
“I know,” I whine. “Do something about that, would you?”
His laugh this time makes me curse.
“Settle down, princess,” he says, keeping my wrists pinned to the door, yanking the bunched and tangled skirt down with a curse. “I just want you naked first.”
“I could help with this part,” I point out impatiently.
“No. I’ve got it.” Something cold replaces his hands on my wrist. I look up to see a band of ice pinning me to the door. Seconds later, the skirt is at my feet. Along with my panties. I kick them both across the room. Jack raises an eyebrow and steps back, taking me in. “That’s better.”
I’m bare just like he wanted, stretched out and displayed against the cool wooden door, but I don’t really feel naked until his eyes start to wander. And wander. The man is maddeningly thorough.
I start to squirm.
“That just makes everything look better, you know,” he says, that smirk on his lips
“So come over here and enjoy it.” It’s meant to be a taunt, but it comes out more like a plea.
Jack takes a step closer, then another. Until I can feel the heat of his body through his clothes, tantalizing against my skin, but he allows no part of him to brush up against me. I’m trembling when he dips his head. I expect a kiss, but what I get is something else.
He nips the tender skin over my racing pulse sharply, making me jump and cry out, but a second later, his tongue slides over the bite, soothing the pain away. I’m so wet now I can feel the liquid seeping down my thighs.
“Mine,” he whispers against my throat. I swallow and nod, no longer able to speak. But he’s not done. “I’ve dreamed of having you back for so long, I’m not sure this is real yet, baby. So I am going to look and touch and taste until I’m convinced. And you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”
His teeth scrape my skin again and I shudder.
“Say it, princess.”
“Yes, Jack.”
His laugh this time is low, almost a snarl of satisfaction.
The warm, silken heat of his lips trails down, exploring my collarbone as he lifts my breasts in his hands. Rough thumbs drag over my aching nipples until they’re so hard they hurt, only to be engulfed by the hot, wet torture of his mouth.
Being helpless is driving me mad. I’m already a squirming, shaking mess. I’ve wanted to touch him for so long that waiting a second more is torture, but if this is what Jack needs…
He’s kneeling now, looking up at me, one hand spread over my stomach. His hair looks almost black in the shadowy room, only the faintest glint of chestnut in the tousled strands. His eyes are intent on my face.
Slowly, he lifts my knee to his shoulder, spreading me open, the lick of the cool air between my legs a delicious and deliberate tease. His lips quirk at my gasp, then brush my stomach, the rasp of his jaw against my skin making me whimper. His mouth trails down, over my hipbone and I go to my toes, curling my other leg around those powerful shoulders, pleading shamelessly.
In response, Jack slides his tongue over my clit once lightly, using his fingers to keep me open as he pauses to look up when I cry out. That look is pure unadulterated greed. He craves my response as much as I crave giving it to him. When he drops his head again and wraps his lips around my clit, I can’t take it anymore. The ice at my wrists bursts apart and I drop my hands, burying my
fingers in his hair as I rock my hips, coming so hard that if the door weren’t there to hold me up, I’d be on the floor.
Seconds later, I am. Or rather Jack is on the floor, on my fluffy white rug and I’m on top of him.
I look around blurrily. “This isn’t the bed.”
“We’ll get there.” Jack stretches lazily, one hand palming my lower back, then sliding down, cupping my ass. I can feel him hard between my legs, the bulging seam of his jeans rough against my still-pulsing center. “Eventually. We’ve got time, baby. We’ll be playing catch-up for the rest of lives.”
Our very long lives.
Something warm and content snuggles deep into my belly and purrs. But I’ve never been as patient as Jack. One orgasm down, ninety-nine more to go.
“You’re still dressed.”
“That is a problem.” He doesn’t seem fussed, though, his hands wandering to my bare breasts again. Since his touch tends to take away my higher reasoning skills, I pull back and shake a finger at him.
“It’s not fair. I’ve missed your body just as much as you’ve missed mine.”
His grin is wicked and slow. “Prove it.”
“Alrighty then.” A hastily whispered snippet of rhyme later and Jack’s clothes are gone, only a tendril of ash floating in the air. His eyes widen.
“You have to teach me that one.”
“Witch magic.” I wink and move against him. I’m slick and hot from the orgasm he just gave me. Jack gasps, his hands dropping to my hips. He’s hard as stone and the feel of him between my legs sends little shocks of pleasure dancing up my spine. I grind myself along that rigid length over and over again, but I don’t let him inside of me. Not yet. My tenuous willpower isn’t going to last long, but I need to bask in this feeling just a little longer.
Jack’s chest tightens under my hands, his eyes fixed on my body as I move, his gaze just as hungry as I feel. Then he lifts his gaze to mine. My heart nearly stops, still half expecting the familiar ache as he looks right through me. But I’m alive and so is he and suddenly I can’t take it anymore.
Roses & Rye (Toil & Trouble Book 3) Page 15