Snow Angels

by Sabrina York

  “Tell me,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me everything.”

  Lyssa settled deeper in his embrace and dipped her chin. He was glad. He didn’t want to see her face. Didn’t want her seeing his. He tucked her closer and laid his cheek on top of her head, her soft hair. She drew in a deep breath and began.

  “They were scouting the rim of the canyon, she and Kip. She saw something. A flicker of movement…of color in the rocks. They headed for it—”

  “She should have signaled me.”

  “She should have. But she didn’t want to wait.” Lyssa tried to look up at him. With gentle pressure, he did not allow it. “Then they saw it.”

  “S-saw what?”

  “A baby.” Lyssa shivered. He tightened his grip. “They thought it was a baby. When they got close they saw it was a doll. And—”

  When she didn’t continue, he urged her on. “And?”

  “And she stepped on something. Heard a click.”

  “Shit.”

  “She knew then it was all over. But she didn’t realize…it wasn’t just one bomb. It was a series of them, ringing the canyon.” Lyssa looked up then. When their eyes met it was like an electric charge. “They were lying in wait. If she hadn’t triggered the blast, one of the rebels would have.” Lyssa swallowed. Her elegant throat worked. “But she did trigger it. And she’s sorry for your pain.”

  “My pain?” Heat scored him. The little hairs on his neck prickled. Something nasty slithered through his gut. “My pain is nothing compared to….”

  “She wanted to say she was sorry.” Lyssa nibbled her lower lip. “Because she never did.”

  It was true. Sam would rather eat a live grenade than apologize.

  Lyssa cupped his cheek. Held him still and forced him to look at her. “And she wanted to say she’s proud of you.”

  “Proud of me? For what?”

  “For not giving up.” A sweet, slow smile. “For fighting. Against insurmountable odds. For saving Bo when they wanted to kill him. For walking again.” Her lashes flickered. Lips worked. “Also….”

  “Yes?”

  “She loves you.”

  The breath whooshed out of him.

  Another thing Sam would never say when she was alive. But he didn’t doubt, for a second, that she had.

  It was a tender moment, replete with redemption, relief, and hope. Because whether or not he’d had a hand in Sam’s death, she didn’t blame him for it. A peace, unlike anything he’d ever known cascaded through him. “Thank you, Lyssa.”

  He kissed her. A soft buss of gratitude.

  She wrinkled her nose.

  Not the response he’d expected to a loverly kiss. But he’d come to realize with Lyssa, there was always something else going on. Usually something he was clueless about.

  Sure enough, she shook her head and muttered, “I’m not saying that.”

  Wade blinked. “Is Sam still talking?”

  Lyssa made a face. “Does she ever stop?”

  He chuckled. “When she sleeps.”

  “Yeah. Well….”

  “What did she say?”

  The flush rising on her cheeks was charming. “I don’t want to say.”

  “Come on Lyss.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You told me everything else.” He gently nudged her knee.

  “This is embarrassing.”

  He held back a snort, but just barely. “To you, or to me?”

  “To both of us.”

  Oh, now he had to know. “Spill it.” He invested the words with a dark commanding growl. He was really good at commanding growls.

  She flinched then relented, but she tipped her face away. “She thinks you should start dating again.”

  “How is that embarrassing?”

  Lyssa peeped up at him and said, in a small voice, “She thinks you should start dating me.”

  He threw back his head and crowed. Her mortified expression was hysterical for one thing and, after all, it wasn’t a bad idea. Not at all. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the prospect.

  Of all the women he’d ever met, she made him feel at home in his skin. Which was a gift.

  But Lyssa wasn’t done with her pronouncements. “And….” she said.

  “And?” He rubbed her shoulder in encouragement when it looked like she would rather chew on her lip than continue.

  “And Jax agrees.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lyssa knew Wade needed time to process his emotions after their tête-à-tête. Her clients often did after a reading. And she needed time as well, to recuperate. Though the voices often flowed around her willy nilly, when she was focusing, trying to get the message exactly right, it could be exhausting. Especially when her own emotions were involved.

  Which she had to admit, they were.

  It had hurt, physically hurt, to tell Wade that Sam loved him. He deserved to know. He needed to know, so she’d done it. But it had cost her.

  For the rest of the afternoon, they agreed to go their own way. He worked in the utility room trying to start the generator, and she went back to the mound of snow blocking in his jeep. The physical activity felt good and she enjoyed watching Bo chase each shovelful of snow as she tossed it onto the growing pile. He bounded back and forth on his three legs, as facile as a dog with four, barking and snapping at the flying snow, his tail going a mile a minute. Occasionally she mistimed her tosses and doused him—which he also seemed to enjoy.

  He shook his head, grinning, tongue lolling, and then barked at her to do it again.

  She was having so much fun, it surprised her to realize dusk was falling. Reluctantly she turned back to the house…and stopped.

  Wade stood on the porch, leaning against the pillar, arms crossed, watching her. Judging from his stance and his smile, he’d been watching her for a while.

  It struck her again, his beauty…this tall handsome man. Broad shouldered and strong, with a richly hued aura; it filled the space around him. His colors were different, slightly lighter, as though a weight had lifted from his soul. Little specks of pain still peppered him, but the bitterness and the harsh tinny flavor around them had eased.

  She was happy she could have done that for him.

  He deserved some peace, after what he’d been through.

  “Are you ever coming in?” Did she imagine the petulance in his voice?

  “We’re having fun,” she sang. She bent, formed a snowball, and tossed it to Bo, who caught it unerringly. It disintegrated in his mouth so he barked at it.

  Wade laughed. “Stop teasing my dog.”

  “He likes it.” Lyssa scooped up more snow and tossed another lob at the shepherd. And then, for good measure, tossed one at Wade. He was watching Bo, so he didn’t see it coming and it hit him square in the face.

  His shock was comical. His features tightened, as though he were holding back a laugh. “Why you….” he growled. Then he leaped off the porch and tore after her.

  Lyssa dropped the shovel with a squeal and sprinted away, but the snow was too deep, so it wasn’t much of a sprint. He caught her in five long strides and whipped her up into his arms.

  “You’re going to pay for that, missy,” he said through a chuckle.

  Lyssa didn’t fret over the threat. It was too glorious, being held high in his arms. He strode toward the carport—toward the drifts they’d built and lifted her high—and dropped her.

  She sank like a stone, sputtering and howling as her butt nested deep in the drift. Snow sifted beneath her collar and into her boots and…everywhere.

  “Wade!” she wailed, floundering around like a trout. “Help me out.”

  He braced his fists on his hips and laughed.

  “Help me!”

  Bo, delighted with this new game, bounced around them barking and grinning.

  “Wade!”

  He finally relented, thrust out a hand, and made a great show of groaning and heaving as though she weighed a ton. He let go and dropped her
back in more times than was strictly necessary.

  When she was finally free, she brushed the snow from her jacket, pants, hair, and boots. She was soaked.

  She shot him a glare. “Beast.”

  He found that funny too, although why, she couldn’t say. But she did love this side of him. Playful, funny…happy. She loved his smile, the spark in his eyes, his hair. She loved….

  Oh.

  Dear.

  Her frantic brushing stilled as the realization flooded her.

  She’d always been attracted to the sexy model in the photo on her calendar. She’d always felt a connection to him—though it was a ridiculous notion.

  But now that she knew the man, now that she’d glimpsed his soul….

  Oh dear.

  Something in her expression snagged his attention. His grin faded. His expression firmed. Their gazes met and clung. A moment, an eternity, hung between them.

  Then he took that last step, pulled her into his arms, sealed them together, and he kissed her.

  It was unlike any kiss she’d ever known. It was wild and free and unfettered and wet.

  She was oblivious to the trickle of melted snow creeping down her back. Oblivious to the cold, the wind, and the fact that fat white flakes had started drifting down once more. She was oblivious to the incessant barking by her side.

  Well, maybe not completely oblivious.

  But the kiss was magnificent. A merging, a melding of spirits. A transcendent mingling of breaths, tongues, and essence.

  He tasted…happy.

  Happy to hold her. Happy to have her. Happy to be.

  He lifted his head and then kissed her again as though he couldn’t resist. “It’s getting cold,” he said. “Let’s go inside,” he said. And he lifted her into his arms and carried her off, her hero, just as she’d always dreamed.

  ***

  They spent the night making love. Wild, passionate love, and slow, sleepy love. Lyssa wasn’t sure which she preferred, but was glad she didn’t have to choose. Wade gave everything when he pleasured her, and she gave everything right back.

  She gave him another massage—in the middle of the night, when he’d mentioned he was hurting—and then was annoyed when it put him to sleep. But she liked watching him sleep, and he deserved his sleep, dear man, so she didn’t wake him.

  And she watched him. Watched his chest rise and fall. Watched him snuffle and groan. Watched his lips purse in a dream.

  She didn’t know how it had happened so quickly, but she knew she loved him with all her heart.

  It was truly a pity he couldn’t love her back.

  Because he was still in love with Sam.

  She knew it. She’d seen it in his eyes. The adoration. The longing. The grief.

  There was some pain she couldn’t take away.

  ***

  Wade awoke to warmth. The warmth of body, certainly, with Lyssa curled around him, snoring delicately, her head on his chest. But warmth of spirit as well.

  It would never be easy, thinking of Sam, but the weight on his soul, the sharp claws of guilt, had eased. Now, when she crossed his mind, it was the happy times he remembered, the laughter, the teasing, and the loving. The anguish and regret he’d carried with him for years was gone, and he felt worlds lighter for it.

  And it was all due to Lyssa. Her healing touch, her insight. Her courage.

  It amazed him that she didn’t care about his scars, she wasn’t repulsed by them. In fact, last night, when he’d mentioned how much he hated them, a whisper into the shadows, she had traced each one, kissing them lovingly, over and over again. It was as though her touch had swept them away, the way a wave erases tracings in the sand on a beach. He wondered if she knew how much power she held in that gentle touch.

  He cradled her closer and closed his eyes, reveling in the peace of the moment. The warmth of the woman.

  He could lie here forever, he thought. Forever and a day.

  And then his stomach rumbled.

  He hoped it wasn’t loud enough to wake her.

  Last night they’d finished up the last of his food, and while he worried about it, he hadn’t worried too much. Last night he’d been hungry. Besides, she had more food in her car, and he’d spent some time yesterday figuring out how to work the ham radio. If they needed help, they could get it.

  Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to raid Lyssa’s car for more supplies. He wasn’t looking forward to the long, cold trudge down the mountain. Not when he could lie here, cocooned with her.

  His stomach rumbled again.

  This time it did wake her.

  She offered a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” He kissed her. Then kissed her again.

  Even though he’d woken her to passion—several times—in the night, and even though he’d been utterly sated—several times—his cock stirred. There was something about her that inflamed him. She was irresistible.

  He rolled over to cover her, but something blocked him. He glanced down at the foot of the bed. Bo was sprawled between them. Biby, curled against the dog, paused in her grooming to glare. Wade chuckled. “Foiled again.” He’d evicted the animals from the bed numerous times during their nocturnal frolics. They always found their way back.

  “That’s okay,” Lyssa said. “I’m kinda hungry anyway.”

  Wade grimaced. “I don’t think there’s any more food.”

  She blanched. “No food?”

  “There’s an apple in the fridge.”

  “Why didn’t you bring more food?” Her outrage made him smile.

  “I brought plenty. I didn’t expect company, remember?”

  She harrumphed. “I don’t eat that much.”

  He kissed her. “I was due for a trip to the store, darling. Don’t pout.”

  “But I’m hungry.” She put out a lip. “I have low blood sugar, you know.”

  He checked the window. A muted sunlight peered through the glass. “It’s a nice day for a walk. I’m sure the snow has gone down. How much food did you bring?”

  “A lot.” She grinned.

  He kissed her nose. “If you don’t eat much, and you were coming here alone, why did you bring a lot of food?”

  He did not expect her reaction. She stiffened and turned away. Her shrug was weak.

  Something curled in his gut. He stroked her cheek, gently turned her to face him. “Lyssa? Why did you come up here?”

  “There was something I needed to do. I didn’t know how long it would take…. That’s all.”

  “What did you need to do?”

  She threw the covers back. The sudden chill racked him. “I need to pee.” Before he could stop her, she scampered into the bathroom and shut the door. She didn’t emerge for a long while. He was already dressed in his cold weather gear and cataloging the items in his backpack when she came out.

  “I…where are you going?”

  He pulled on his gloves. Her gaze fixated on his hands. “I’m going to your car.”

  She paled and clutched her belly as though he’d punched her. “Wait.”

  He grinned down at her. “Lyssa, we need some food. Did you lock it?”

  “Lock what?”

  “Your car.” He slipped his hunting knife into the pack. If the car was iced over, they might need it to break in.

  “Wait. Don’t go yet.”

  “It won’t take me long.”

  “Don’t go.”

  He should have paid more attention. He should have noticed the way she shook. When he finally did, chagrin lanced him. “Lyssa, honey, what’s wrong?” He tried to pull her into his arms, but she whirled away.

  “You’re not going alone.”

  “It’s a long hike. It’s cold. You don’t need to come.”

  She stared at him, her eyes as wide as a doe’s. “You’re not going alone. The last time we tried this you almost died.”

  “I did not almost die.”

  “You fell in a tree well.”

 
“I did not almost die.”

  “You’re not going alone.” This, she pressed through tight lips. He could not argue with her insistence. She was pretty stubborn when she wanted to be. Besides, he would enjoy her company.

  “Okay. Suit up.”

  She did so, but slowly, as though in a fog. As though she really didn’t want to go. Wade chalked up her grogginess to the fact that she had just woken up and hadn’t had any coffee.

  Damn, he hoped she’d brought coffee.

  Finally, she was ready. When Bo realized they were going out, he pranced to the door and made impatient circles. Lyssa paled again. “I don’t think we should take him.”

  “He loves to go for walks.”

  She didn’t respond, other than to nibble her lower lip, which hardly counted.

  “Lyssa, are you all right?”

  She glanced at him and then glanced away. “Mmm hmmm.”

  He tipped up her chin until their gazes met. “Tell me. What’s bothering you?” Surely he hadn’t been too rough with her last night. That one time, when he’d taken her from behind….

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a weird feeling.”

  “Do you get weird feelings often?”

  A snort. “All the time. But this is—”

  “What?”

  “Different. I-I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure you want to go?”

  She nodded. “I have to go.”

  “You don’t have to go.”

  “I have to. Come on. Let’s get moving.” She pressed past him and wrenched open the door.

  He grabbed his backpack and followed, wondering to heaven above, if he would ever understand her.

  Chapter Nine

  It was a beautiful day. The snow had begun to melt a little, and it was relatively easy following the track down the mountain toward her car. The sun glinted off the drifts, sending glittering trails of color dancing over the landscape. The sky, through the lacy bare branches and evergreens, was clear, bright blue. The air was cold and crisp, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Bo loped along beside them with his uneven gait, pausing to sniff here and there and relieving himself more than should be physically possible.