Page 69 of Jack Frost
My head whips toward her. She's looking at me seriously, her dark eyes wide with meaning. Behind her, red-headed Sarah stands in the kitchen doorway, holding their sleepy two-year-old Wendell in her arms.
"We figured it out last year, right at the end of your visit," Sarah says. "When you were getting ready to leave, Wendell was crying, and Alex made a snow pacifier for him. I nearly keeled over with shock."
"After that it wasn't hard to see the other clues," Karyl says. "Where you met Jack, the way he looks, and the way you disappeared for a while before coming back all pale-ified, your sudden decision to live 'overseas'—we put two and two together. Mostly. Now it's time for y'all to fill in the blanks. If he vampirized you without your permission, Emery, I swear—"
"It's nothing like that," I reassure her. "Why didn't you tell me you suspected something?"
"We wanted to wait until we were sure," Sarah replies, shifting Wendell onto her hip. "Jack, darling, I saw you 'shovel' our driveway early this morning. Wish I could clear it with a snap of my fingers."
I whirl on Jack. His cheeks are already flushed a guilty pink. "Jack! You promised me you would shovel it the human way!"
"It would have taken so long—I thought everyone was still asleep."
Slowly I face Karyl again. This woman has been a true sister to me, for years. She taught me everything my mother never bothered to. She comforted me after my breakups and helped me see the toxic pattern in my choice of men. We have encouraged each other, celebrated each other, supported each other. Besides Jack and the kids, she's the most important person in my life.
"Do you want us to leave?" The words clog my throat; I can barely force them out.
"Leave?" Karyl exclaims. "Hell no. You're going to sit your asses down and explain every damn thing."
"Language," says Sarah. "Your son is right here, Karyl."
The conversation that follows lasts for a full hour and resurfaces throughout the day—after the opening of the presents, and during the Christmas dinner, and between the board games. With his secret unveiled, Jack indulges his creative side and crafts delicate ice sculptures for each of the children. I manage to take some videos and pictures of the festivities, but inwardly I'm twisted into anxious knots, even after we sit both families down and discuss a plan for secrecy. I'm not sure it's enough. I can't be sure that Karyl still looks at me the same way.
Finally my kids are settled in sleeping bags in their friends' rooms upstairs. Karyl and Sarah retreat to their own room, claiming exhaustion, but I'm guessing they want to debrief, to unpack everything Jack and I have told them.
I sit on the couch, glaring at some glittery Christmas movie that's still playing on the TV. What if Karyl and Sarah's kids tell someone about us? Any adult they told would probably chalk it up to youthful imagination—but who knows?
Long fingers compress my shoulders, kneading away the tension. I tilt my head back, looking up at Jack as he stands behind the couch.
I still can't believe I get to see him every day. The angles and contours of his face are a constant delight to my artistic soul, especially when he's in his supernatural Jack Frost form, as he is right now. When he leans closer, the sweet fragrance of his breath wafts across my lips, sending a tingle of delight along my body.
"They won't betray us," he whispers. "And if by some chance they did, by intent or accident, we have power. We can disappear. We can spiral. We have money, places we can go. We'll be fine, and the kids will be fine."
"Thank you," I murmur, right before he kisses me.
"I'll continue this massage," he says. "But I need you to pull that neckline of yours down a little lower—it's the least you can do as payment."
I tug at the loose neck of the sweater until the arches of my breasts are clearly visible. "Like this?"
"Mmm." Jack pushes my hair aside and kisses along the curve of my neck, each press of his lips a sparkling seal of his love. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"
"It's late..."
"It's Christmas."
"Fine." I twine my fingers through his and follow him to the back door. We step into the delicious, refreshing cold, easing the door shut behind us.
The backyard is large and completely fenced in, with a snow-covered shed at the far end. Jack leads me toward it.
"I think you have devilish intentions, sir," I tell him.
"The very worst intentions." Jack pulls me around the corner of the shed, into the shadows behind it, and shoves me against the rough wood. When he lifts my arms above my head, pressing them to the wall, manacles of ice lock into place around my wrists. "Lady Frost, Goddess of Ice, Queen of the Snowy Sea, I intend to ravage you, here and now."
"Is that so?" I can barely breathe as he trails both hands over my body. Every sweep and squeeze of his fingers lights me up, inflames me with unbearable anticipation. Intimacy isn't just pleasurable for us; it has a mutually regenerative effect on our bodies and our abilities. Still, I value it most for the spine-tingling climaxes that only seem to get better the more years we spend together. "You know I could break these cuffs easily."
"But you like being at my mercy," he says, looking into my face while his fingers slide along the inseam of my pants.
Oh god. I do. I really do.
