And fuck if I don’t want to let him do just that. I’m finding myself pulled in his direction more and more, the thought intoxicating and keeping me up at night, tossing and turning.
“Wait?” He takes an unconscious step closer before catching himself, releasing my wrist with an apology and retreating a step. “This isn’t just about being outside, remember? It’s about finding a way to enjoy something about winter.”
Mentally screaming at my vagina to calm down, I huff out a breath. “And you enjoy freezing your tits off?”
His lip twitches before morphing into feigned shock as he puts his palms on his chest. “How’d you know?!”
Grinning, I roll my eyes, but stay put. “Fine, but if I turn into a popsicle, I think you lose the bet by default. No way you’ll be able to change my mind after something like that.”
“So I take it I should go first?” he teases, taking a step away as he readies his stance.
“Only if you want to get a shot in before I kill us,” I deadpan and he barks out a laugh.
The poor fool thinks I’m kidding.
A small ball forms in his hand as he concentrates, a distortion of air like he scooped the heat off of a fire and molded it to his needs. Drawing his arm back like he’s about to pitch a baseball, he lobs it forward, nailing one of the bottles that promptly explodes, sending a shower of water spraying.
I double over laughing when he goes sliding backward, the force sending him back several feet. He whirls his arms, trying not to fall on his ass. His momentum slows and he manages to stay upright.
Smiling, he meets my eye and begins shuffling back. “See? Wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if you’re on solid ground.”
“Just hope you can run fast,” I mumble, getting into position. I draw my energy into my palm, much smaller than his, yet bigger than I’m used to handling, and not in the fun way.
While shifters have a magic of their own, they only tap into it to change forms. The rest of the time, it’s just a layer of energy throughout their bodies. Mages on the other hand, it’s not a layer; it’s who we are. The more we use our abilities, the weaker we get because it drains our very essence.
It’s not like the magic tank hits empty and we’re just human until it refills, like shifters too tired to switch between forms for a while. If we push ourselves too hard, there are physical ramifications, namely blacking out if we drain ourselves. When we wake up, if we even do, we’re absolutely starving, desperate to refuel. That’s not to say food equals magical energy, but like anybody, if you’re overtired and hungry, you’re weaker. The better you take care of yourself, the stronger you tend to be.
And I’ve just spent far too many years without the means to do so. Hunger is a constant ache that I’ve learned to live with, and sleep is typically reduced to short bursts when and where I can. I’ve only just gotten back to a semi-decent state; the bullet wound healing, some good nights of sleep, and steady meals. It’s been a hell of a long time since my reserves were this high and I’m not used to it.
Whipping my arm, I err on the side of caution and go high, trying not to shatter the ice. Instantly, I get thrown back a few feet. As I start to topple backward, Ian snakes out a hand to catch me before I land on my ass, but we both end up tumbling into a heap on the ice.
The problem is that my magic’s a lusty bitch, and it’s wholeheartedly on board with claiming our mate. The energy ball veers off course, circling back like a horny boomerang.
“Shit!” Ian rolls us out of the way a second before it crashes into the ice, and we scramble up onto the bank as cracks spread from the hole like a spider web.
Breaths coming quickly, I flop into the snow on my back. “Tried to warn you.”
Sitting beside me, he stares down at me with a face scrunched up in contemplation. “I have never once in my life seen something like that. You must either have insane control and secretly hate me, or your magic is on even more drugs than mine.” He continues to stare at me, broaching the subject we’ve been carefully avoiding.
And it’s then that I realize…he knows, and is testing the waters. Or at least, is pretty confident in the assumption that we’re mates, but doesn’t want to risk voicing the theory and scaring me off after I’ve made it abundantly clear that my stay here is a temporary road stop. But that glimmer of fear in his steely gaze… I can’t tell if it’s because he’s afraid to accept the prospect, or how I’ll react.
After all, how many chicks in romance novels are the last ones to realize they’ve been near their fated mate the whole time, only to discover that he knew and didn’t tell her? That almost always leads to a huge fight, someone kidnapped or whatever, until they accept it.
I’m just not that kind of girl. I’m one hundred percent on board with having someone that loves me to the point of obsession, even if it’s more of an arranged marriage set up where we fall in lust and then get to know each other over time. But he wouldn’t know that, so his trepidation is understandable. Besides, I have no clue where his thoughts are at on the subject, or if it’s even something that he wants to pursue.
Rejected mates happen. Not often, but the few stories I’ve heard in my time definitely make the prospect sound as painful as if your mate died. That kind of wound…it doesn’t ever completely heal. And giving any sort of that power over to someone you barely know is terrifying; especially for mages, where our entire world revolves around our power. It’s writing a blank check to a stranger and asking them to make or break you.
“No secret hatred here,” I answer, realizing I spent far too long silent, lost in my head again.
Bracing a hand on my other side, he hovers over me, scanning my face. Whether it’s for panic, reservation, or protest, he finds none of it. Loosing a breath, he dips his head as I rise up on my elbow to meet him halfway.
Only for a snowball to nail him in the cheek, bits of snow assaulting my face as I drop back down, sputtering in equal surprise.
“Gods damn it,” he mutters, swiping off his face and glaring around, but there isn’t a soul to be found. “Fucking Ozzy, what do you bet?” he huffs, cursing the more mischievous of Rin’s mates.
Shutting my eyes, I thump my head back on the ground once before pushing myself to my feet. My magic is writhing in my gut like a pit of snakes, or maybe it’s just been that long since I’ve been this turned on and I can’t tell the difference anymore. Either way, I bring another ball of energy into my hand, mentally coaching it to actually do what I want it to this time.
Lobbing it with all of my might, I hurl my frustrations away from me, and to my surprise, it slams into one of the bottles. Jumping up with a triumphant whoop, I watch as the bottle explodes, red water exploding out like I just blew up a baby.
