Winter Wishes

by Vivian Arend, Vivi Andrews

  “Sure.” The normally bright flashlight barely seemed to penetrate the darkness as he descended the stairs.

  The lower floor opened into a wide hall lined with doors, each with a plain black sign engraved with white letters. Atmospheric Science. Environmental Monitoring. Energy Analysis.

  He made his way down the hall, each step falling with an odd thud and squeak on the slick tile. Finally, near the end, he found a door labeled with red letters instead.

  Maintenance.

  Shane turned the wheel to disengage the rotating lock, grunting when the neglected mechanism groaned and squealed. The door shuddered and swung open, revealing a cavernous room with pipes and rusted catwalks and a thousand looming shadows.

  “This place is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, mostly to break the silence as he picked his way through the maze of equipment. He was familiar enough with machinery to recognize some of it—evaporators and boilers, mostly—but some was utterly beyond his experience.

  Oh well. If he couldn’t get the power running, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. They had food and water, and the building provided excellent shelter. They could easily ride out the storm, especially with Nadia’s magic.

  He’d expected to feel uncomfortable in the face of her increased power, but instead all he felt was relief. It seemed perfect—this place where she could draw strength from the earth without that same power sapping his humanity.

  The diffuse, eerily blue beam of his light flashed past a control panel along the back wall, and Shane laughed. Solar controls, not so different from the ones at his home. As long as the cells were still operable and connected, he could have them up and running in minutes.

  Perfect.

  * * *

  With power came the opportunity for hot water. The research station had several bedrooms and a set of barracks-style rooms filled with cots. Each had a bathroom, and Shane hadn’t seemed insulted by her urgent need to claim one of them for her own.

  Of course, hot water didn’t simply appear. She twisted the knob and flinched away from the icy spray. Science, not magic, which meant she had to wait for the water to heat. It was tempting to trace the pipes to their source and speed the process along with a spell or two, but the power all but sparking at her fingertips made it clear she had a more pressing concern.

  Leaving the water running, she spread a towel on the tile floor and settled in a comfortable position, legs crossed, hands resting on her knees. It took only a few moments to drop into a half trance, one that left her open to the flow of magic but protected from its power—or so she thought.

  Something slammed into her hard enough to make her sway. Wild energy, so strong it was almost sentient. It spun around her, brushing over her bare skin and teasing at the ends of her hair.

  Eager, like she’d told Shane, but worried too.

  Now she understood why. Witches had been brutalized here. No doubt some of them had died. At least one of them had spilled blood and begged the earth for help, and his or her death would have sealed the bond. Nothing so formal as a spell, but with blood and death, intent carried more weight than ritual.

  “I’m here,” she whispered, turning her palms upright. “I’m here, but of my own will.”

  danger-monster-run-safe

  Not words, not quite, though they tickled at her ears as if she could hear them. How many witches had died here? How many had taken their last breaths and left parts of themselves behind?

  Enough to make the earth as frantic as a child concerned with a favorite toy. The image almost made her smile as she shook her head. “I am safe. The monsters are gone.”

  hurt-tired-power

  Her skin prickled as magic washed over her, so much, so fast that she was surprised her hair wasn’t standing on end. Weakness vanished. Exhaustion disappeared. Energy and life pulsed inside her, more than she’d had before her kidnapping, more than she’d ever felt except during the rowdiest summer solstice celebrations.

  So much and the earth still pushed, trying to feed her more, until her nerves were overloaded and light sparked from her fingers as the power sought an outlet. Nadia slapped her hands together and whispered the words to the light spell just to give the excess magic somewhere to go.

  A dozen spheres appeared, floating around the bathroom and bathing it in a rainbow of color that reflected in the mirrors in a dizzying array. The water had begun to run hot, and steam softened the glow until it felt like a wild jungle with flickering lights. A fantasyland so beautiful she almost wanted to share it with Shane.

  Nadia laughed, and her pleasure seemed to dim the earth’s anxiousness. Leaning forward, she pressed both hands to the cool tile. “Thank you. I’m safe, I’m healthy and I have the power I need to find my way home. You don’t need to help me anymore unless I ask for help. Rest easy.”

  happy-safe-love

  “I’m safe,” she repeated, and the earth seemed so pleased that it didn’t realize she hadn’t said she was happy or loved.

  Because it’s inanimate power, Nadia, not a person. This time she laughed at her whimsy as she rose and stepped into the blissful heat of the shower. No, the earth wasn’t sentient, even if magic had given it a sort of consciousness. It couldn’t tell she ached with longing. That every step toward the freeze line gave her body strength and put another cut on her heart.

  Shane was the most hopeless man she’d ever cared for, and those feelings made her sister’s choice appear rational in comparison. Nadia had heard of just one witch who’d mated a werewolf, and that had been an act of magic so forbidden that her choice was spoken of only in whispers. Horror stories and cautionary tales—the woman who had bound herself to a wolf and shared in his madness, proof of a deranged mind in a culture that valued civilization above everything else.

  Even that was hopeless. The spell—if it existed—wouldn’t temper the monster inside. Shane would have to be willing to trust her with his darkness, trust her to be strong enough to face his wolf. He’d have to trust himself, and that seemed the most insurmountable obstacle of all.

  The water washed away the dirt of hard travel, but it couldn’t ease her anxieties. Still, Nadia stayed in the shower until she’d found the courage to face him again, to pretend she didn’t bleed every time he turned away. The bag he’d packed for her included a comb, which had no doubt belonged to the woman he couldn’t bring himself to discuss.

  It felt awkward, using her things. Wearing her clothing. For the first time, she wondered if any attraction he felt was to a dream or a memory, if opening his eyes to see her face shattered his desire. It made donning the pink flannel sweatpants and the silk-screened top even less desirable.

  Instead she found a fluffy towel that covered her from breast to knee—and tried to pretend it wasn’t a test. Look at me. See me.

  If he turned away, her heart might break.

  She found Shane kneeling in the room he’d cleared, his head down and his hands fisted on his thighs. His shoulders heaved with his deep, even breaths, but every exhalation was edged with a rumble, almost a growl.

  Something was wrong. Worry prickled up her spine. “Shane?”

  The growl deepened, and his eyes flashed yellow as he looked up. “The earth’s awake.”

  “I know. I—” She’d released the earth from its bondage, told it to rest. She hadn’t even considered what that would do to Shane. With the writhing power beneath them no longer focused solely on her, she’d thrown him into his worst nightmare.

  “I can hear you.” He stood, his movements graceful and sure enough to make it clear he could have moved much faster—if he’d wanted. “Your heart. It’s pounding.”

  He’d sense her fear and assume she was afraid of him instead of for him. “The earth touched me as well. I’m worried for you. Worried that I unleashed something that will hurt you.”

  “Hurt? No.” His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer. “I’m not hurt.”

  She held her ground. Not to avoid hurting him, but because she knew a pred
ator when she saw one. Weakness invited attack. Flight would encourage a chase. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider the sensual possibilities of being caught, not when he’d scent her arousal.

  So she studied him. Tried to find the man she knew under the beast. “What do you need, Shane?”

  He ignored the question and ran the back of his hand over the towel she was wearing. “Where did you get this?”

  It was such an unexpected question, she didn’t know what to do besides tell him the truth. “There was a stack of them in the bathroom cupboard.”

  His jaw tightened. “Take it off.”

  Nudity didn’t bother her. Neither did the promise of dirty, carnal sex that lingered in his gaze. Not so much desire, but proof any intimacy would be edged with danger, with wild hunger. She craved such a coupling—

  But he didn’t, so she tightened her fingers on the towel. “I don’t think I should.”

  He turned his hand, curled his fingers under the top edge. He was touching her skin, his knuckles grazing her breast, and the caress made it difficult to concentrate on his words. “It smells like another man.”

  It smelled clean to her, but as acute as his senses were, perhaps one wash hadn’t been enough. There was no map, no guide to know which of his instincts she should avoid and which she could test.

  The possessiveness in his gaze seemed too fierce a line to cross. Moving slowly, she eased her arms from her body. The edges of the towel slipped, leaving the middle caught in his grasp.

  Shane dropped it to the floor and drew her closer. “Still smell it.” He bent his face to her skin, inhaled on a deep breath. “You should smell like me.”

  It was pathetic—how eagerly her body heated under his touch. She was as needy as the earth had been, clinging to any contact, clutching at a connection. Her nipples hardened under the rough scratch of his T-shirt. Warmth flooded her, pooling between her legs. She’d be slick soon enough, wet and all but whimpering for him.

  He growled again and lifted her clear off her feet, against his body. He was hard, well muscled—the kind that came from hard work—and she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips before she remembered she had to slow him down. She had to be the one who said no.

  She parted her lips, but all that escaped was a gasp as Shane crashed them into the wall. His erection ground between her legs, coarse fabric sliding against too-sensitive skin. If she rocked, just a little, she might be able to center that glorious friction on her clit—

  Shane growled and bit her throat.

  Magic screamed through her. Her body pulsed. She clutched at his back, digging her nails into his bunching shoulders as she shuddered under the tumbling sensations. Pain, pleasure, bone-deep satisfaction that echoed in him as he marked her, claimed her, owned her.

  His fingers tangled in her hair, jerked her head back, and his mouth descended on hers in a rough kiss. The edge of his teeth bit into her skin, hard enough to bring blood.

  Too hard. Not for her—the edge of pain made the pleasure of his tongue that much sharper—but the gentle lover who’d touched her with reverence would surely shy away from it. Even with lust fogging her brain, it didn’t seem right. To take him into her body, to let him slake their lust, all the while knowing he’d hate himself for every bruise, for every mark.

  A violation of the worst kind, if it was in her power to stop him. So she tried, gradually at first, sliding her fingers into his hair as she inched her lips from his. “Shane, we shouldn’t—”

  He edged his thumb into her mouth and ground against her again, this time prompting a shudder from her that left a feral grin curving his lips.

  She wanted to bite him. She wanted to give in, to be craved and desired, ravished and claimed. It was touch, so necessary to life that she’d been withering without it, and Shane watched her like the world began and ended with her pleasure.

  It was the promise of comfort in an otherwise dreary life, and it wasn’t hers to take. Not at his expense.

  The energy sparking between them gave her the answer. She closed her eyes and reached for the earth that was so eager to obey her. I’m in danger. Give the power back to me. All of it back to me—take it away from him.

  He stared at her, his brows drawn together in a frown, and the clouds cleared from his gaze. “Nadia—”

  Relief. Regret. Both clamored for her attention, battling the rising magic that made her ears ring. Too much too fast, and beneath them, the earth chanted a frantic warning.

  monster, monster, monster, monst—

  Thunder rocked the research station. Lightning exploded. Nadia hit the floor on her knees and cried out at the jarring pain, unsure how a storm had formed inside four walls.

  PROTECT

  “No!” The denial shredded her throat as she fought her way to her feet. Not a storm. The earth, but she could only see in blurry, inverted colors, her eyes struggling to recover from the blinding flash of light. “I’m safe, I’m safe from him. He’s not the monster—”

  Her vision cleared, and she found Shane slumped on the far side of the room. He’d knocked over a chair and upended a crate of supplies before he’d hit the wall. Glass must have shattered. She felt a shred slice the bottom of her foot and ignored it, staggering to his side. Sore knees protested the sudden drop to the floor, but she ignored that pain too as she turned him over and reached for his neck, desperately seeking a pulse.

  It was there, fast but strong, but something hot left her fingers slicking over his skin. Blood. It dampened the hair at the back of his head, stained his shirt in quickly spreading blots of color.

  She was a warrior, not a healer. The only spells she knew were meant to keep a partner alive so she could find real assistance. Maybe it would be sufficient, if a werewolf’s healing could finish the job.

  It had to be. She closed her eyes and tried to find the words. The scent of blood filled the air. Sharp. Metallic. She could almost taste it—no, she could taste it, her blood, where his teeth had slashed her lip.

  Focus, Nadia.

  Simple words. No one had ever told her the original language, only that it was ancient. Not just before the quakes, but before men had built cities. The time of wild plains and stone temples and spears and songs. The time her people wanted to bring back.

  Focus.

  She whispered the incantation and felt magic stir. Shyly, offering the hand of peace because she’d scolded it. Frightened it. With the earth’s help, she wrapped the only healing spell she knew around Shane, whispering the phrases over and over, until they became a chant.

  A prayer.

  Chapter Seven

  One second, Shane was lost in a red-hot haze of need. The next, he was slammed against the wall with enough force to knock him stupid.

  “Shane.” Nadia’s voice, frantic with worry. Her hands framed his face. “Can you hear me?”

  He shifted with a grunt, lifting one hand to the back of his head. “What the hell was that?”

  “The magic,” she whispered, voice shaking. “It was trying to protect me. It didn’t know.”

  Memory assailed him, the feel of her body pressed close to his. “Fuck.” Self-loathing washed over him, and he cursed again. “Shit, what the fuck did I try to do?”

  “No, Shane. It wasn’t like that.” The words came too fast, tumbling over one another in her rush to get them out. “You didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have enjoyed, if it had been you.”

  He’d attacked her. The proof of it was staring him in the face, from her bloody, bitten lip to the marks on her neck. “Jesus Christ.”

  “It was my fault.” She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. “The magic wouldn’t have taken you if I hadn’t gotten careless. You didn’t have a chance.”

  Even now, he could feel the ghost of that feral need rising in him. He had to get her hands off him, had to look away from the soft, fervent forgiveness in her gaze. “I have to get out of here.”

  Her hands fell away. “There’s nowhere to go.”

  “
Other rooms. Places.” He wasn’t even making sense. “I can’t be around you if I’m out of control, Nadia. I can’t. You don’t understand what I can do, what I am.”

  “I understand what you can do. I didn’t stop you because I fear you. I stopped you because you have the right to choose whether you wish to bed me.”

  “I could have killed you.”

  “No.” The word came out hoarse. Almost angry. “I wouldn’t have let you.”

  His head throbbed, and he pulled his hand away. It was slick with blood, and he vaguely remembered Nadia’s whispered chant. “Did you heal me?”

  “Not all the way. I can’t.” She bit her lip, then winced as her teeth snagged the cut. “Werewolves have some minor healing ability, don’t they? My spell stabilized you, but your own body must have done the rest.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He shifted to his knees with another groan.

  “I’m sorry.” Nadia rocked to her feet, her balance odd because she favored one leg. Her right foot bled, and she slipped as she tried to take a step back. “I could have killed you.”

  She was naked, but she was also hurt. Shane picked her up without a thought. “Are you really trying to one-up me on the danger scale?”

  That earned him a smile. “You’re not the only one capable of darkness.”

  No, but Nadia didn’t have to guard against it every moment. It didn’t sleep inside her, waiting for a chance to rear and consume like a caged, hungry animal. “It’s not funny.”

  Her smile faded. “Please put me down.”

  “I have to look at your foot.”

  “Put me down before you drop me. You have a head wound, and I have a scrape.” A little twist and she took the choice from him, squirming out of his grasp. Instead she got one arm around his waist and led him toward the sitting area, with its dusty, barely used couches. “I was dying when you found me. I’m not anymore, and it’s time you stopped treating me as if I were fragile.”

  Fragile was a relative term—but so was dangerous. “You’re still bleeding. I’m not.”