She wanted to argue, but something in his tone stopped her. Not patronizing. Honest. Spence wasalwaysupfront and honest.
“I’ve been happy watching you make friends,” he continued. “Rhea’s good for you. She’s grounded in a way that balances your fire. I like seeing the two of you together.”
Emmy relaxed back into her seat. “She’s great. I didn’t expect to actually like anyone here, but she’s solid.”
“And Felix,” Spence added, something knowing in his voice. “I’ve been pleased to see you go mama-hen over him.” He grinned. “Or mama-dragon, I guess.”
“Felix is a friend, and I protect my friends when they need it,” Emmy said quickly. Too quickly. She sighed. “Okay, he’s more than that, but there isn’t anything super-emotional beyond friends-with-benefits. He’s a dear friend, and we have fun together. The sex works because we’re compatible, opposite kinks, but it isn’t love.”
Spence nodded slowly, no judgment in his expression. “You know you’ll see him being hurt at Mordnik, hurt badly, and you won’t be able to intervene.”
“I’m aware.” She picked up her cocoa again, letting the heat seep into her palms. “But I appreciate the reminder. Felix likes pain in ways I’m still learning to understand. I’m not going to go running to his rescue every time a vampire gets rough with him. I know what category he signed up as, so whatever happens is his choice. He isn’t my submissive. Idon’t get a say in that kind of thing. He makes his own choices.”
He was submissive to her in scenes, but just her friend the rest of the time. It was true he sometimes let her hold him outside of scenes, but that was just the way they showed affection.
Spence studied her for a long moment. “Do you want your own submissive? Someone whoisyours?”
Emmy considered whether her answer had changed since she’d arrived in Alaska, and realized it had not.
“Eventually,” she told him. “But I have too many other things going on to worry about looking for a partner. I’m going to live for thousands of years like my father. I have plenty of time.” She grinned. “No point in being anchored to someone now when it’s so much fun to play.”
Spence’s mouth curved into a smile. “You know, that’s actually showing a lot of maturity. You have time to—”
The intercom crackled to life, cutting him off.
“Folks, we’re beginning our descent into Mordnik,” the pilot’s voice came through. “If you look out the left side of the aircraft, you’ll see the town and airport coming into view. Please ensure all items are stowed and seatbelts are fastened. We’ll have you on the ground in approximately five minutes.”
Emmy leaned toward the window, peering out at the vast expanse of white below, broken only by the dark smudge of buildings clustered near the coast. Jagged patches of sea ice drifted across the steel-gray waters, not yet solid. Pale sunlight spilled over the snow-blasted earth, turningthe landscape into a sheet of hammered silver, glittering at the edges.
Nestled inland about half a mile, a gleaming dome caught the sun — glass and steel glittering like a dropped diamond in the snow. It shimmered, the steel ribs catching the light in flashes like the edge of a blade. The Aurora Ballroom, she realized with a little thrill. She’d be living underneath it for the next three months, and the reality was a visceral pull.
To the east, low hills rippled like the bones of some great beast sleeping beneath the snow. To the west, the ocean met the land in an uneven line of white-capped waves and broken ice, a reminder that the sea hadn’t yet surrendered to winter’s grip.
This wasn’t the curated wilderness of tourism brochures. This was the far north, wild and mostly untouched. The farther inland she looked, the more raw and uncompromising the landscape.
“Welcome to the edge of the world,” Spence said quietly beside her.
She felt a flutter low in her belly. Anticipation, maybe a little fear, and definitely excitement.
Emmy is always the dragon, and she easily recognized the call of a place where survival has to be earned.
The jet began its final descent, wings tilting gently as it aligned with the long off-white streak that passed for a runway. Emmy braced her boots against the floor, eyes locked to the window.
Alaska in November looked like it had been drawn in charcoal and bone — shades of white, gray, and dusky gold smeared across the landscape like an oil painting. Flat tundra stretched for miles in every direction, broken by straggling scrub and jagged drifts sculpted by wind.
The sun hovered low in the sky, casting long slashes across everything. It hit the edge of the town and turned the squat buildings into little blocks of amber and slate.
The plane bumped down, tires squealing against the ice-scored runway.
“Bundle up,” Spence told her, tugging gloves from his coat pocket. “It’s twelve degrees out there, brutal even for a shifter when the door opens.”
He wasn’t kidding, because as soon as the cabin door opened, a spear of cold stabbed inward — dry and sharp, like inhaling a freezer full of knives. Emmy yanked her hat lower and zipped her parka all the way up, following Spence down the narrow stairs into a wall of light and air so clean it tasted like static.
The sharpness of the cold hit her first, like a slap to her entire system, but once her nose and lungs figured out how to deal with the cold, she caught the scent of the ocean layered in like threads of silver frost, salty brine that never warmed.
Breath puffed visibly. Snow crunched under boot soles. And behind her, the plane gleamed like some alien craft landed on the edge of the world.
She’d thought a scarf would be overkill, but had packed one in her carry-on because the instructions said to. Shepulled it from her backpack now and wrapped it around the lower part of her face. It wasn’t just the temperature, but the wind.
