Page 22 of Kiss of Frost

He stirred on the bed, and I held my breath. A second later, he sat up. The fur fell to his lap as he swept his gaze around the tower room, clearly scanning for threats. His breath puffed in small white clouds, and goosebumps spread down his arms and across his muscular chest. He turned to the witch and ran light hands down her limbs, squeezing here and there in an obvious check for injuries. When he didn’t find any, some of the tension left his shoulders. He smoothed the hair off her forehead, and his expression softened as he gazed down at her, his fingers touching her pulse and then petting the fine hairs at her temple. After a second, he bent and brushed his lips over hers.

It wasn’t until the sunlight slanted across me that I realized I’d drifted out of the alcove and into the main chamber. No matter. My magic was strong enough to hide me.

Callum stood and tucked the fur more firmly around the witch’s shoulders. Then he examined his flank where I’d gored him with my tail and sliced him with the ice. The injuries had healed quickly, his immortality repairing the damage. I’d sponged the blood away after I hauled him upstairs. His skin was pink but whole.

And his body in profile was perfection, the sweep from his buttock to his ankle like a bit of poetry I’d read once and forgotten. But I remembered it now. Dusty words reemerged in my mind, and they were no less beautiful for having lain dormant for so long. On the contrary, time and distance made them more compelling. Oh, there you are, something whispered in my mind.

I moved forward, an invisible hook in my chest drawing me more fully into the midnight sun. But maybe the hook wasn’t invisible after all, because an ache bloomed under my sternum and spread under my skin.

And if I was honest with myself, it wasn’t the first time. Outside, when I’d fought the young dragon, the ache had thrown me for a moment. It had distracted me, giving the lad a chance to swoop under my belly and pop up behind me. He’d probably thought he was clever. I knew better.

More witchcraft. That was the only explanation, I thought as I returned my gaze to the witch. Perhaps her incompetence was part of her strategy. She lured her enemies into believing she was clumsy and inadequate. And I’d fallen for it, foolishly giving her an edge. It wouldn’t happen again.

The hook sank deeper, and I rubbed at my chest, my thumb stroking a hard line in the spot where my ribs joined. The lad stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, taming his crop of waves. Honey. His hair was the color of honey in a pot, the bottom darker than the syrup on the surface. And like honey, it would be lighter still if the individual strands were teased away. Honey was a memory, too. The North didn’t hold such luxuries. The ice didn’t yield anything sweet.

But I recalled the tang on my tongue. The slow spread of nectar that was always something of a mess. Worth it, though. It had always been worth it.

The lad turned and looked toward the tower room’s sole window, giving me an unimpeded view of his body. Like all our kind, he was tall and well-formed.

But no, that turn of phrase didn’t do him justice. He was beautiful. Wholly different from the raven-haired witch but just as stunning. Hers was a body a man could sink into. But the lad was all sinew and hard angles. His nipples were tight little points puckered against the frozen air. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, the shaft long and meaty even in his unaroused state. His balls were tight from the cold. They’d be hard and compact in my palm if I cupped them, the skin pebbled with the same goosebumps that covered his arms. I’d warm him, though. If I knelt before him—which I never would—and took his cock in my mouth, his chilled flesh would heat. It would stir against my tongue, growing stiff and full and then hot, so very hot.

He shivered suddenly, the movement setting his dick swinging just so.

A groan slipped from me before I even registered its existence.

Callum jerked his head to the spot where I stood.

Impossible. I took a swift step backward, the shadows of the alcove enveloping me. But I didn’t need to hide. My mother’s people were never seen unless they wanted to be. Her magic ran through my veins, cloaking me from even the most perceptive observer.

The lad’s eyes glittered, a bright sheen rolling over his irises. Alertness hovered about him as he peered into the alcove. For the briefest moment, the outline of elegantly curved horns appeared on either side of his head.

Demon. I listened for my mother’s gift, my ears perked for it to whisper the nature of the lad’s power. But there was only silence. Possibly, I needed to get closer. Or maybe the boy’s mother came from some little-known clan. The demonkind were many, their tribes so varied it was impossible to keep track of them all.

The lad spoke suddenly, his voice touched with the lilting notes of my birthplace. “Are you going to show yourself, or are you too much of a coward to face me like a man?”

I shed my glamour and stepped from the alcove. “Bold words from a boy who just lost a fight.”

A smile curved his lips as he looked me up and down, his green eyes taking in the fur-lined trousers and sealskin shirt I’d thrown on after I shifted. “I’m not a boy, old man. If I were, you wouldn’t be thinking about how my cock would feel in your mouth.”

He can’t know—

But he could. “Incubus,” I said, a growl in my voice. It sneaked in without permission, as it had outside, roughening my tone without my consent.

“Aye,” Callum acknowledged. “A third, anyway, though halfling rolls off the tongue more easily.”

I looked at his mouth, and my thoughts flipped around, putting him on his knees at my feet, his green eyes locked with mine as he lapped at my cockhead.

Callum sucked in a breath. I tore my gaze from his mouth in time to see his eyes go wide. He hid the expression quickly, tilting his head so those honey-colored threads in his hair caught the sunlight. “And you… Fae, I’m guessing?”

“Stop making me want you.”

His smile was patient. “You know it doesn’t work that way.” Before I could respond, he gestured to his thigh. “You cleaned me up.”

“Didn’t want blood on my bed.”

“Or you wanted to get a closer look at my cock you can’t stop thinking about.”

Another growl formed in my throat. “Watch your tone, boy. I haven’t decided whether to kill you yet.”

---