“How much time do we have?” My voice is a rasp. I’m almost too afraid to ask, but I need to mentally prepare myself.
Before I even realize it, frosty breath blows the tear streaking my cheek, freezing it in place. Barely visible fingers brush it away, the tiny flecks disappearing.“I have to be back in the mountains by first light.”
“We’ll be going to Hotham in a few days,” I say as casually as I can, not wanting to sound overeager. “Will I get to see you?”
“Yes, you will. I’ll work hard to make sure we have plenty of time to do everything we wish.”My toes curl in my heels.“Just call on me. It’ll be easier once you’re there. I had to sneak a little farther than I’m technically supposed to so I could see you tonight.”
“Were you here yesterday by any chance?”
“Of course I was.”He gestures to the corner at the back of the audience. The exact spot I thought I’d seen him.“You think I would have missed seeing you in your element, Tempest?”
He cradles my jaw, pale-blue face finally taking form. His eyes sparkle under the dim light. “I came when I felt your joy. The moment you began to move under those lights. I’ve been trying to get ahead of my duties so I could return for a longer visit tonight.”
“I’m so glad you were here. I thought you were, but I wasn’t sure if I was just imagining it.”
“Not your imagination, Tempest.” His nose nuzzles mine, our eyes locked. “It was me.”
He closes the distance and chills my lips with his refreshing kiss. It’s tender, slow, and I just want to slip away with him.
The thundering applause ramps up my heartbeat, pulling my attention back to my surroundings. Lifting up from my seat, I peer over the theater box’s golden banister at the hundreds of audience members standing up and cheering for the pair of ballet dancers bowing on stage. I flip through the program resting in my lap, drawing down the sheet with my finger, and spot the Royal Ballet’sDon Quixotegrand pas. Next up…
The emcee’s announcement is muffled by the dying applause, but I don’t need to hear it to know. Blake and his annoyingly charming smile take the stage alongside Beth, one of the other principals from the Institute. Lark mentioned that Nina’s transferring to the American Ballet Theatre, and while Blake hasn’t received an offer yet—from them or any of the other New York City ballet companies—they’re hoping to move there together. We’re both hoping she’ll realize she’s better off without him and leave him in the dust.
The air goes taut next to me, Jax noticing for himself who’s taken the stage as the instrumental fills the space.
“Before you ask, I’m not here to see him.” I turn away from the performance and thread my fingers through his hair. “Though I wouldn’t mind witnessing him stumble.”
“Just say the word.”
“He’s not worth it.” I chuckle, shaking my head and then give him another kiss. “Besides, I don’t want to waste getting to see you. Not when our time is always limited.”
“Whatdoyou want, then, Tempest?”
The lights dim, and Jax’s eyes twinkle like brilliant stars pinned against the darkness. Spring may bloom, summer may blaze, autumn may fall like the leaves, but my feelings for Jax don’t shift with the seasons. They’re steady through it all, eternal whether he’s here or not. If winter never returned, I’d still be here, heart pounding wildly, waiting. Always.
Just as he’ll always return to me.
If I have to steal a thousand tiny moments together, I will. I’ll hoard them away, filling my journal with everything I recall, etching our story into its pages.
I’ll stuff it full of new memories. New questions and possibilities. New wins.
“I want everything… You.”
He smiles, and I lean forward, kissing him eagerly. Whatever being his mate entails, every aching part of me wants it. It’s a gravity I’m desperate to fall into.
His icy touch grazes where my leg peeks from my slit, and I jerk.
“Sorry,” he rasps, removing his hand.
I catch his wrist, guiding him back. “Don’t stop. Please.”
Whatever he’s offering, I want it and I want it now.
He skims the slit of my skirt, sending shivers below my belly. I thumb over the feathery embossing along his wrist, wondering how each line would feel scraping against my skin. Wishing we were alone.
Splaying an icy hand at the top of my thigh, he waits a moment as my body relaxes, adjusting to his chill, tracing across my nose with his own. My breath hitches, coating the darkness in a mist of white, and I uncross my legs, allowing his fingers to dip between them.
He arches a brow at me. “Nothing but you beneath this, Tempest?”
