“Yesterday was awful.” I’m already dreading going back there and having Mistress Maral or some other instructor look down their nose at me. “Iwas awful.”
“It was your first day. Give yourself some grace,” Lark says, standing up and taking her coffee over to the sink to rinse out the mug. “It’s going to take some adjustment.”
“You’re right.”But it still sucks.
Lark heads for the door, rifling through her dance bag before throwing on her coat. “Why don’t we meet after rehearsals one day this week?”
“Sure. I can bring coffee to you from Java Joe’s?” I offer. It was our favorite spot when we danced at the Institute together. Standing up from the couch, I go wash out my mug and leave it on the drying rack before turning back toward my room. “It’ll give me an excuse to visit everyone.”
Something flickers in her expression. “You sure?”
“Of course.” She’s probably worried about me getting depressed being back at the Institute. I’m sure it will hurt, but I miss them. I miss the familiar. Besides, seeing Lark, Stasia, and Denise will be fun. I might even get a peek at Blake, if he’s not too busy.
“That sounds great, Jojo.” She tugs on her gloves and wraps her scarf around herself before flashing me a smile. “You’ve been missed. Everyone is always asking about you.”
“It’ll be great.” I return the smile, though I don’t feel it fully. “Just text me your order from JJ’s and what day works best once we get our schedules. I’ll grab it on the way. Then I can say hi and we can catch the metro back together.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she says, giving me one final wave before she’s off.
I trudge back to my room, anxious about the day ahead. I just have to focus on each rehearsal as another chance at reclaiming my career. Today’s class can’t be any worse than day one’s, right?
I’m not sure I want to find out.
5
JAX
Itrace my fingertip over the letters, savoring the dip where pen met paper. Two words pierce my chest with a weight I don’t fully understand.
I’m alive.
I’ve served over fifty winters outside hibernation. Waited decades. And by some horrible stroke of luck, I’ve been bewitched by a mortal.
Jolie Wilder.
She’severythingto me and she doesn’t even know it. Someone I can’t have for a multitude of reasons. Not that it stops me from zipping here every chance I get. I don’t think I’ve had a more productive winter to date.
I know better than to interfere, but every time I return, I try to learn as much as I can about her. Every fragment of information I glean shoots a boost of serotonin through my veins. She’s a compulsion I can’t shake. An addiction I’m desperate to feed. A high I never want to come down from. Thefarther I am from her, the worse I feel. That usually comforting flutter, like two fairies pulsating within my sternum, amplifies to the beat of dragon wings.
She’s inescapable.
My hand trails over her journal. She’s left it out today, something she normally doesn’t do. I shouldn’t read what’s within its pages. We study mortal customs in our lessons to better understand the world before we are sent into it. Diary reading is frowned upon. But this may be the closest I ever get to her…
With a quick flick of my wrist, I flip through the pages one at a time. Maybe there’s something in here that can help me find out how to reach her. It’s a hollow hope I shouldn’t push, but the urge to show her I exist, that I’m here—hers—is too strong to ignore.
I wish it wasn’t. Things would be much easier for the both of us.
No matter how far I go, though, I always end up back here. And I will keep coming back, satiating my need for her, undetected. As long as I keep doing my job and don’t break our only rule, I should be fine.
Scattered across the pages are a mix of memories, musings, and quick sketches. Most have a numbered list at the bottom.
I glide through her room one more time, scoffing at the discarded penile cover in the corner trash can. Frustration coils in my chest, making my fists clench. I slipped in despite knowing better. I should have left when she brought that lowlife back to her room. I normally do… Well, maybe there were times that I watched in agony from the windowsill. But he hadn’t been back in a few weeks so I was hoping they were through. Then he showed up last night, and like some sort of masochist, I remained in her bedroom.
My body responds despite the pain of knowing she was with someone else. Herprince, as he’s referred to in her journal. In reality, he’s some jerk who doesn’t even deserve her attention, much less her devotion. While I desperately hate him and would love to slip some ice wherever he’s walking, harming him would only bring me temporary joy and would get me swiftly benched another winter. I can’t afford that after missing the last one, placed on extended hibernation. I still have no clue what I did to be benched, but I’m grateful to be here now. And I refuse to fuck this up.
I sigh, staring up at the ceiling, and lie on the bed, one spot over from where I was last night. Entranced by the way she moved. Every curve of her body. The way her nipples hardened, begging for me to tease them with my hands. My tongue. To taste every inch of her. To cover her body with my own, painting her skin in my frost.
How I wish it had been me beneath her.
