Winter Wishes

by Vivian Arend, Vivi Andrews

  “Keep wh—” Her teeth snapped together, and she cursed herself as a fool. “No. No, that’s not it, Shane. It’s me. I’m a reflection of the earth beneath my feet every bit as much as you are. It’s worth the risk for one night, but I wouldn’t want to linger. I can’t promise I’ll be entirely myself if all the power inside me comes from volcanic earth.”

  Some of his tension eased, but not much. “We’ll both have to be careful.”

  “I won’t hurt you,” she whispered, “and it will fade quickly. But it will give me the strength to last to the border, I hope.”

  He reached out and patted her hand awkwardly. “We’ll be fine.”

  The gesture was earnest enough to curve her lips in a smile she hid by turning her head again. As gruff as he could be, gentleness shone through in the way he handled her, the way he offered comfort to a relative stranger. Regardless of his protestations, she knew that made him unusual.

  Shane Sullivan was an exceptional man, whether he believed it or not. Perhaps she could find a way to make him believe it before they parted ways. Nothing so tangible as monetary payment, but maybe just as valuable.

  * * *

  The springs south of Twin Falls had always been there, or so the old-timers in Hamilton had told Shane.

  At one point, when such places were uncommon in other parts of the States, those springs had drawn tourists to southern Idaho. Back then, there had been several hundred springs in the state. Less than half had bubbled up at low enough temperatures not to boil a person’s flesh clean off.

  Now, there were three times as many hot springs, and it was the rare one that could scald, much less kill. But the areas around the springs felt different. Not warmer, not exactly—a quick glance at a thermometer would disprove that—but stronger.

  Different.

  Shane threw his cooling coffee on the ground. It hissed and soaked down, staining the snow. “You want more before I kill the fire?”

  “Mmm.” Not quite an answer, but Nadia barely seemed able to focus on him this morning. She sat on the tailgate of the truck with her eyes closed.

  Her skin was flushed, even in the cold, and there had been times during the night when her body had trembled against his. Whatever magic dwelled here in the hot earth, Nadia could feel it.

  So could he.

  She wet her lips, and her eyes drifted open, revealing endless pupils enclosed by a narrow brown ring. Her shallow, too-quick breaths and the unsteady thump of her heart erased any innocence in her sleepy, curious gaze.

  Fever washed over him in a wave of heat, and he knew he had to lock it down. Now. “Nadia.”

  The tip of her tongue dragged over her full lower lip again, and her gaze fixed on his throat. “I think I’m ready to leave.”

  She’d have to be, whether she liked it or not. “We’ve got a lot of miles to cover.”

  Nadia closed her eyes and slipped from the tailgate with a grace he hadn’t seen in her before. “I’m feeling much better…but not very like myself.”

  “Everything’s waking up.”

  “Yes, it is.” She stretched, arching up on her toes with her head thrown back, the early-morning sun bright on her face in spite of the biting cold. “I know I should conserve my energy. I’ll need it to survive before we reach the border. But I’m so full. I want to do something.”

  She was lovely like this, free and primal, almost wild. “Like what?”

  Laughter filled the space between them, warm and low, the sound its own caress. “I could show you fireworks.”

  It sounded too much like an invitation, especially with the fever simmering in his blood. “Fireworks?”

  Nadia brought her hands together in front of her. A whispered word and the currents around them began to spin in a wide, lazy arc, as if she was drawing the earth into her. A dazzling light kindled above her palms, a flame that twisted into a perfect sphere, refracting hundreds of colors.

  It hung, suspended above her mittens, and her sudden smile was brilliant. “Sometimes, at home, I throw these into the air for the children. They’re so beautiful when they explode.”

  Shane found himself laughing, charmed as much by her smile as by the disarmingly frivolous display of power. “I thought you said you were a warrior.”

  Her smile faded. “If I threw this into a person, it would explode then too. And it wouldn’t be beautiful at all.”

  A harsh reminder, one he shouldn’t have needed. Shane poured another cup of coffee and held it out. “We’ve got to get moving.”

  She whispered another word and snapped her hands together. When they parted, there was no trace of magic. “Thank you,” she said quietly, accepting the cup. It looked awkward, cradled between hands encased in oversize mittens, but she just turned and started toward the front of the truck.

  He’d upset her. He should have gone to her, tried to explain that it wasn’t her he was afraid of so much as himself.

  Instead he tossed the rest of the coffee, rinsed the pot and stowed their supplies in the back of the truck. The fire had died to embers, and Shane piled snow on top. He watched as it melted and hissed, then shoveled the remains around until nothing warm was left.

  * * *

  They passed a small town close to the border, but Shane didn’t dare stop. Newcomers were rarely welcomed, and plenty of their supplies remained. Later, he might have to risk it, but for now…

  Nadia stared out the window. Shane touched her shoulder. “Tell me more about the Nine Tribes. Where you’re from.”

  She stirred slowly. The farther they’d traveled from the hot springs, the more subdued she’d become. Not ill or weak like she’d been before, but quieter. Even her voice seemed soft, hardly more than a whisper. “Each of the tribes is different. I was born near the sea. The elders call it the Gulf of California.”

  He’d never heard of it, though he recognized the name. California, from the time before. “Do the tribes get along?”

  “Some of them. Sometimes. My tribe has been at war with the Fifth since I was a little girl.” Her gaze fell to the bright mittens covering her hands. A coffee stain showed from where she’d spilled earlier. “We were trading partners before that, but they’ve begun to use technology again. They think our magic is sacred and should be saved for important things, not used to power vehicles or bring in the harvest. So we fight.”

  It sounded reasonable, though he could see both sides of the argument. “Guess they can’t just move north and integrate with the humans.” Even if people would welcome them, it would be as dangerous for any witch as this trip had been for Nadia.

  “No.” Her head turned, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught her studying him. “No more than werewolves can live in the south.”

  “Right.” He’d grown so used to pretending that wasn’t him, who he was, that hearing her say it still jarred him. “Some things can’t be helped, I guess.”

  “How did you become—” The words cut off, and she blushed. “I’m sorry. My mentor used to tell me they always knew I was destined to become a warrior. I have the subtlety of a rockslide.”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course.” She turned to stare out the window again. “I’m not the first soldier in my family,” she said, the words a clear—if clumsy—attempt to change the subject. “I’m the fourth generation to specialize in battle magic. My great-grandmother was there when the quakes started. She died saving hundreds of humans during the first wave of evacuations from Yellowstone.”

  It sounded like the kind of story people would tell over drinks or maybe a campfire, tales of long-dead heroes bound to them by lineage and blood. “What was her name?”

  “Allison.” Nadia’s voice softened. “My grandmother was just a little girl. She lost both of her parents before it was over, and was raised as a ward of the Second Tribe.”

  “So that’s you? Second Tribe?”

  “Yes.”

  But her voice had wavered. “You don’
t sound so sure.”

  “My sister…” She swallowed. “I have a sister. She’s younger than I am, only twenty-two this year. She wasn’t a fighter, but she fell in love with one. A prisoner of war, from the Fifth Tribe.”

  Shane gripped the wheel. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “It’s not a secret. Not among my people.” Pain shredded her voice. “I could have gone with her and kept her safe. But I stayed and tried to prove I was loyal. I dedicated my life to my tribe, and I don’t know if I have a home to go back to. I don’t know if I was betrayed or just…eliminated.”

  Anger flooded him in an instinctive rush. “That’s not right.” Not right at all—and no different than what might happen to him in Hamilton if the townspeople found out he was a werewolf.

  “No, it’s not right.” She crossed her arms over her body in a protective gesture. “When I asked you to bring me to the border, I’d thought I might look for my sister instead. I left so much behind, but I don’t know if going back is worth the risk. If the elders approved of my elimination, they’ll simply kill me. They would have expected it to happen by now, in any case. The scientists knew they would have a few months, at most, before I died.”

  “Do you have any idea where she might have settled?”

  Nadia’s sudden laugh was pained. “No. I’m not a very good older sister, am I?”

  It was damn hard to find someone in the borderland when they weren’t on the run from anything or anyone. “There are some people I can ask. Old friends.”

  She drew in a deep breath like she was trying to regain control. “I appreciate the offer, but I know you’ll be uncomfortable trying to stay on the border. You’re doing plenty.”

  “Won’t take long.” And now he had to explain. “I grew up near the border.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  Did she? “My dad grew up outside of Hamilton. When I came back and built my house there, no one really thought anything of it.”

  Her eyebrows came together. “So…your mother was from the border region?”

  “My father traveled through her settlement. He ended up staying.”

  “Do you still have family there?”

  Just like that, she laid bare his pain. No matter. He’d invited it. “No. They’re all gone now.”

  Her fingers brushed his leg in a soft, tentative touch. “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t want her pity. Didn’t want to want her touch. “No big deal. Happens to everyone sooner or later, right?”

  “I suppose it does.” A brief hesitation. “I’m not very good at this, am I? Small talk.”

  “That makes two of us, then, Nadia.”

  She tucked her hand back against her body. “We’re making good time,” she said after an awkward pause. “Aren’t we? It seems like we’re traveling so far.”

  “Good time,” he agreed. Whether that would continue was anyone’s guess. Some of these roads had barely been passable during the normal winters that prevailed when they’d been built. With worse conditions and no regular maintenance, it was impossible to tell what lay beyond the next bend.

  Chapter Four

  When the temperature dropped, Nadia felt it in her bones.

  It hurt.

  She shivered and moved closer to Shane, as if he could ward off the chill. Snuggled together in the sleeping bags he’d zipped together and covered in heavy quilts, they should have been warm enough. For the last few nights, she had been. Shane exuded heat and warmth and seemed perfectly willing to curl around her while they slept.

  Tonight was no exception, but it didn’t matter. A storm was coming, one she could feel inside as the earth shuddered under its fury.

  Wiggling onto her side, she touched her fingers lightly to his jaw. His beard abraded her fingertips, an oddly affecting sensation that she couldn’t afford to be distracted by. “Shane?”

  He murmured something unintelligible and turned his face to her hand.

  She was a woman, one who had been too long without a man. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she tried not to stroke his cheek. “Shane, please wake up.”

  “Too early,” he muttered.

  His lips tickled her palm, almost like a kiss. She shivered. “I think there’s a storm coming.”

  He opened his eyes finally. “Shit. You sure?”

  “Can you feel it?”

  She saw the realization form in his eyes a moment before he shook his head. “Feels colder, maybe. That’s all.”

  Maybe that really was it. He would know better than she would. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to frighten her.

  If so, it wasn’t working. “I’m really cold, Shane. It…it hurts.”

  “Shh.” He cupped the back of her head, his hand strong. Unyielding. “Look at me.”

  It was dark in the back of the truck, with only the tiniest sliver of moonlight to illuminate their surroundings. She tilted her head back and sought his gaze.

  “I’m here,” he whispered, determination etched on his features. “The cold isn’t going to get you.”

  She swallowed a hysterical laugh that might have given away the depth of her fear. “If there is a storm, will we be safe?”

  “Safe? Yeah. Whether we’ll be comfortable depends on how long it lasts.”

  Nadia closed her eyes. “Would it be awkward if I asked if we could sleep the way we did on the solstice?”

  He hesitated a shade too long. “Sure. Take off your shirt.”

  It wasn’t a rejection, but with every breath spinning out into eternity, the brief pause felt like one. She squirmed onto her back, then to her other side, unsure if pain or relief formed the sick knot in her stomach. “Maybe later. If it doesn’t get better.”

  One broad hand slid under the hem of her shirt. “Nadia. Take it off.”

  She’d slept all but naked in his arms for two nights, and it had seemed innocent. Perhaps because she’d been weak, drained. Now, his hand on her skin brought heat that had nothing to do with physical warmth. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “Stop.” His breath blew against the back of her neck. “Take it off.”

  Within the confines of the sleeping bag, it wasn’t simple. She had to squirm to tug at the T-shirt, and by the time she had it over her head, she had no doubts about Shane’s physical response. She settled with her bottom cradled against his hips, every fiber of her being focused on the firm press of his arousal.

  Even though he was bigger, he stripped off his shirt with enviable grace. Once he’d discarded the fabric, his hand slid around to her stomach and pulled her back to his chest.

  Warm. So warm. Nadia sucked in a shaky breath and curled her fingers around his. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His voice had dropped to a rasp, rough and velvety all at once.

  Too intimate. She swallowed. “We’re both adults. I suppose it’s inevitable.”

  “What’s that?”

  If he wanted to pretend she couldn’t feel his erection, she’d play along. “Awkwardness.”

  “Survival,” he corrected, though she felt him shift slightly, angling his hips farther away from hers.

  Maybe the tension was all in her imagination. Maybe it was her, grasping at a connection with the only person who existed in her world. “Thank you for keeping me alive. Keeping me surviving.”

  “You going to keep thanking me?”

  It bothered him. Another wall and she needed it right now. “Yes.”

  His fingers curled around her hip. “So you’re trying to irritate me.” The words were mild, devoid of anger.

  “It’s not my fault courtesy irritates you.”

  “It isn’t courtesy. Once is courtesy.”

  Her temper had always burned hot, even above the freeze line. Digging her teeth into her lip didn’t stop the words for more than a few heartbeats. “If you were the final authority on courtesy, you might have considered saying you’re welcome instead of snapping at me like I’m making demands on you with my pathetic gratitude.”
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  Shane stiffened, his hand tightening for a fraction of a second. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  It might be days before the feeling of his fingers digging into her hip faded. Imagination painted a different scenario, fingers grasping as he slid his leg between hers. As he came into her. Made love to her.

  Slow. In the limited space they had, it would be slow and so intense. Just like this, with his body curled around hers, the angle beautifully deep. Strong fingers on her breasts, his mouth on the back of her neck, one hand buried in her hair…

  Her cheeks were on fire. She had to swallow twice to speak, and even then it was raspy. Hoarse. “Thank you, Shane.”

  His breath sloughed over her skin in a rhythmic pattern, and she realized he was laughing. “You’re welcome.”

  Why he was laughing didn’t matter. “See? That wasn’t so difficult.”

  “I’m an idiot,” he whispered. “And I’m never around people, not really. Slap me if you need to.”

  It was so easy to cover his hand again, to twine their fingers together. “I don’t have any high ground. I’m blunt and not very diplomatic. Maybe that’s why the elders tried to beat manners into me.”

  His laughter died as he tensed. “They did what?”

  The impression she’d given of her people must truly have been barbaric for him to take the lighthearted words so seriously. “Not literally, Shane. Except for the baker, who smacked my fingers with a wooden spoon every time I tried to steal sweets from his cart—which was two or three times a week, until I started my training and could afford to buy them.”

  He eased immediately. “I always snitched pie. Little chocolate pies. My mother made them.”

  Her mouth watered at the thought. The rough camp food they managed was nutritious, and Shane made sure she had enough to fill her belly, but it didn’t always taste very good. “So we have something in common. Neither of us can be trusted around pie.”

  “Good thing we’re not likely to find any on the trail.” His hand moved, stroking lightly, from her hip to the bottom of her rib cage and back again.

  A caress. He was caressing her. Almost petting her. Every nerve awoke under his fingertips, until that expanse of skin felt hypersensitive. Alive. Nadia closed her eyes and let his touch do what nothing else could—warm her from the inside.