Yes, Sylvie was right.
Approaching him with hands folded behind my back, I chewed the inside of my cheek, suddenly feeling like a shy schoolgirl once I’d gotten closer. “Beautiful, huh? You’ve been in the bakery several times, and I don’t recall you ever saying that.”
Thor rubbed an uncomfortable hand at the back of his neck, making that bicep bounce. “I thought about it. Just never said it. You’re a different breed of female, Sylvie. Not to mention, I’ve never seen your wings before.”
My stomach gurgled at his choice of words, and my wings folded back as if to hide from him. “A differentbreed?”
“Apologies, that probably didn’t come out the way I intended. I only meant that you’re a genuinely sweet person.” Thor wrapped his hand around the hammer pendant hanging from his neck. “I never said anything because I figured you wouldn’t ever be interested in a brute like me.”
My wings flared out again. “Andareyou a brute?”
“To a certain extent, yes.” Thor chuckled and made his golden hammer appear, twirling it by its handle. “I do fight frost giants and sea serpents regularly. Not to mention I regularly drink mead from a curved horn.”
Smiling sheepishly, I found myself twisting my foot on a pebble. “Your honesty goes a long way, I’d reckon.”
“Yeah? Could I convince you to have a drink with me? Or coffee or tea?” Thor laughed and nudged his head at The Minty Boar café.
Jack’s face flashed through my mind, a disapproving scowl distorting his features. Why should I care what Jack thought when he was here for another woman? It was enough to have meoffering my arm to Thor. The Norse god of thunder led me to the café where we settled into a small table with two chairs.
This was precisely what I needed to forget all about Jack and his mysterious haughtiness. As far as I was concerned, Jack could hit the road.
It should be simple.I’d tell her that I wished to show her the true extent of my power, and as a winter faerie, she’d be in awe. Kissing her could be a tell-all if weweretrue mates—the reactions our bodies would have from the connection—impulses that went beyond lust and attraction. I’d been going over what to say to her as I trekked back to town, miming and stammering.
When I exited the forest, the plaza came into full view, a solstice tree now standing at the center of it. Several citizens were busy decorating the street lamps with holly and garland. Pausing at the tree’s base, I scanned the ornaments, a small smile cresting my lips at the snowflakes.
“Jack?” A female voice asked.
The maenad I’d met briefly leaned in front of me, her fingers steepled.
“Yes?” A crease formed between my eyes as I stared at her.
“Are you looking for Sylvie?”
I took a step away. “How did you know that?”
“She’s my best friend.” Aella shrugged and rubbed the tip of her nose that’d gone rosy from the chilly air.
Pausing, I stood upright. “Have you seen her?”
“Yup.” Aella pointed behind me and clicked her heels together. “The Minty Boar.”
“Thanks.” I started to walk toward the café but glanced back at the maenad sucking her lips into her mouth as if she was trying not to tell me something.
What I saw through the café windows made my blood boil. The instantaneous rage had me seeing red for the first time in my ethereal life, and the thoughts racing through my brain were borderline ridiculous. There was Sylvie, laughing and touching the forearm of some other male with red hair. Those should bemylaughs, those fleeting touches should bemytouches. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?
Without thinking, without any preparation whatsoever, I stormed into the café, bringing a snowy current with me that wafted from the doorway. The closest patrons shivered and frantically reached for their coats. The roaring fire in the hearth died out with one flick of my finger.
The auburn-haired man sat back in his chair and furrowed his brow at me, ice crystals already forming on the hair surrounding his mouth.
Sylvie, unaffected by my wintry anger, turned in her chair, gaping when she saw it was me. “Jack? What the seven hells are you doing?”
Ignoring her question, I stalked toward the table, fanning my palm at the male stranger, relishing the sight of his face turning a light shade of blue. “Whoareyou?”
“Jack,” Sylvie yelled, but my focus stayed on the red-haired buffoon.
The man gripped the table, fighting back some, but not all, of my power. “Thor. God of?—”
“Yes,” I started, clenching my hand into a fist and pumping more ice through his veins. It wouldn’t kill him, but it sure as shit didn’t feel good. “I’ve heard of you. Do you often fiddle with things that don’t belong to you, Norseman?”
