If she ever laid a finger on Nanok, I’d boil her alive.
“Nah, just a bit tired. Everything is going according to plan.” I brushed snowflakes from my shoulder and stood taller.
“Oh? Does she know about yourtrueform yet?”
My entire body tensed at that. It wasn’t something that had crossed my mind. I’d rarely shown my ice creature form because there was never a reason for it. To claim her, however—I shot Diedre a glare.
Diedre cackled and bit her knuckle. “I’m going to take that as a no; oh, this isrich.”
“Are we done here? I have better things to do than listen to your babbling. I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work on me.” I moved closer to the mirage, pointing a finger at her and making the glacial eyes of my creature flash at her.
“You don’t think for a second she’ll be disgusted by that form? That she’ll want to actuallyfuckit, Jakzair?” Diedre sneered at me and feigned gagging. “I certainly wouldn’t.”
“My creature would vomit at the thought of fuckingyou, I could tell you that much.” The fury built in my chest, ice forming at my fingertips, and my limbs shook the more I held back.
She ignored my insult and leaned forward. “Just some food for thought, darling.”
The mirage disappeared as ice daggers launched from my hands, lodging into a tree’s trunk. My chest heaved, lungs burning, and I saw godsdamned stars. Diedre had always been a master manipulator, and her words never worked on me, never got under my skin—until now. If Sylvie could reject me as Jack, then she’d most certainly reject thecreature.
A technoand violin version ofThe Nutcrackersuite blared from the bakery speakers as I got to work on the tenth batch of sugar plums that Mayor Tibbs ordered for the town’s winter ball tonight. An event I couldn’t have forgotten about, even if I’d tried, with the dress Jack gave me, sitting in its ornate box on the back counter. Surely, we’d dance, which meant proximity. We’d be in each other’s breathing space again, and his scent would be unavoidable. I’ve never paid attention to the way a male smelled quite as much as I did with Jack, and it never failed to make my core pleasurablytighten.
“Hello?” A familiar feminine voice shouted from the lobby.
Had I forgotten to put away the “chime for service” sign and lock the door? I really was distracted.
Wiping my hands on a towel, I sprinted to the front room, fidgeting with my phone to pause the music. Chelsea stood there with her arms folded, a bright smile playing over her lips, and her emerald eyes, with tiny crescent moons reflecting in them,beamed at me. “I take it you were supposed to be closed today on account of the big ball?”
“Yes,” I replied through a deep sigh, shimmying past her to flip the sign and secure the dead bolt. “But now that you’re here, what’s up?”
Chelsea had really come into her own since moving to Arcane Cove without any knowledge of who and what lived here—one of three witches who called the Cove home. She fiddled with the pentagram charm on her necklace. “Dion’s busy prepping for the afterparty in Bacchus, so I thought I’d sneak over and bribe you for a treat.”
Dion, also known as Dionysus, Chelsea’s mate, and god of wine, frenzy, and partying.
Chelsea’s sweet tooth was the exact way we met when I found her in my bakery with her nose pressed to the display case. I’d sprinkled courage and relaxation magic over a vanilla cupcake with blue frosting that day, and we’ve since become good friends.
“No scandalous bribing needed, you know that.” Grinning, I fished a plate of snickerdoodle cookies from the back of the case and rested them between us. “I was going to throw these away later tonight anyway. Help yourself.”
Chelsea’s eyes sparkled, and she grabbed two cookies. “You’re a faeriegoddess, Sylv.”
Her compliment made my wings flap excitedly. I rubbed the tip of my ear with a sheepish smile. “Are you two attending the ball or is Dion toocoolfor it?”
“I’m going,” Chelsea answered through mouthfuls of cinnamon and sugar dough. “Which meanshe’sgoing. You?”
“Mmhm,” I responded quietly, hopping on one foot and turning. “Better check on those nuts toasting for the sugar plums.”
“Sylvie,” Chelsea beckoned, following me when I didn’t answer and soon matching my speed.
Doing my best to ignore her curiosity, I slipped on mitts and yanked the trays from the oven.
“Sylvie, you can’t expect me to ignore the fact that you said you’re going to the ball. Who’s taking you?” Chelsea brushed crumbs from her hands and tossed her auburn hair over one shoulder, blocking me from moving any further once the trays were on the counter.
“His name is Jack. You might’ve seen him around town. Tall, spiky, snow-white hair and beard—” I trailed off, having to pinch my thighs together after envisioning his handsome face.
“Wait, yeah. The one with the ridiculously glacial blue eyes?” Chelsea pointed at her own emerald gaze.
Grabbing the food processor, I threw the cooled ingredients into it. “That’s the one.”
Chelsea nodded before realization washed over her, and she stood tall. “Sylv, is he?—”
