Page 11 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Nine

M y thoughts are still nervously circling the sleeping situation when Ice walks back in wearing the other dressing gown supplied by the bed-and-breakfast. Black silk drapes over his broad shoulders before cinching at his lean waist, the fabric parting slightly at his chest to reveal a glimpse of the tattoo I spotted earlier.

My mouth goes dry as my gaze follows the material downward, outlining the lean muscles I visually inhaled moments ago.

He belts the garment around his waist, then looks up. The green of his eyes stands out, grabs me by the throat. My heart pounds.

Ice clears his throat. “Food should be here soon.”

And then what? I shake my head. Much better to focus on that question than gawk at Ice’s body—again.

“What should we do next?” I breathe.

As soon as the words slip out, my traitorous mind floods with forbidden images—his large hands pinning mine above my head, his mouth capturing mine in a bruising kiss, our bodies pressing together as he claims every inch of me.

Heat rushes through me so violently that I have to grip the arm of the sofa to ground myself.

I force myself to ignore the ache that image creates deep in my core.

He freezes. “Besides sleep?”

Ice isn’t exactly suggesting anything. But horrified that my thoughts show on my face, I shake my head. “I-I meant tomorrow.”

With a sigh, Ice sits beside me again. “We can’t stay here. I’m sure you’re tired and want to rest for a few days?—”

“We don’t dare.”

The measuring glance he sends me reveals surprise. “Precisely.”

Bloody hell. Perhaps the fact I can’t read Ice’s thoughts is a good thing. He probably thinks I’m a vapid Privileged siren blonde with nothing more to do each day than worry about my outfit and the state of my hair.

“We must warn the Council members their lives are in jeopardy.”

Ice sneers. “As if they’ll believe it.”

Indeed. “We have to find Bram some help as well.”

“He’s seen a healer, right?”

“Of course. Did no good, I fear. So I’ve been thinking… I have the ultimate help, don’t I?” I nod toward the Doomsday Diary sitting on the leather ottoman in front of the sofa.

Ice frowns as his gaze falls on the little red book.

“Do we know what will happen if you try? Morgana Le Fay crafted the bloody tome, and the evil witch would likely build in tricks and traps for anyone else wishing to use it. We have no idea what those might be. Olivia never wrote in the book. Sydney wrote only her sexual fantasies. You’re talking about using a sacred object no one truly understands to reverse dark magic and stop death.

What are the repercussions of tampering with something so magical? ”

Doesn’t he understand? “True, but what are the repercussions of doing nothing? What becomes of the Doomsday Brethren without a strong leader? What becomes of his Council seat?”

Ice shrugs. He’s conceding the point, but it clearly doesn’t allay his concerns. “But if Mathias can now track the diary when we teleport it, can he pinpoint our location if we merely attempt to use it?”

That’s a point I didn’t consider. “Perhaps, but we may not have a choice except to take that risk.” Though writing in the diary scares me, I don’t see many other options. “He’ll die if I don’t.”

“If using the book makes it traceable, Mathias will find us, and he will kill us all.”

Ice’s logic is sound…and I hate it. “I’ll have to think on it. Perhaps we can devise a way to use the diary that he cannot track?”

“Perhaps. If it exists, I’ll help you find it.”

I’m stunned. He’s willing to help me help Bram, a wizard he despises? “Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for him, princess.” Ice’s words hang between us, heavy with implication.

His jaw tightens as though he’s battling himself.

And perhaps he is—torn between his hatred for my brother and defeating Mathias.

Or is he hinting that he’s willing to help me because of his surprising but growing protectiveness?

The thought sends a dangerous thrill up my spine that I promptly try to smother.

Though I do my best, I can’t stop staring.

Everything about him shouts masculinity.

He’s solid, like a rock, both in strength and spirit.

It would take something massive—something beyond my imaginings—to make him crumble.

Probably one reason I feel extraordinarily safe with him.

And I’m certain that my sudden, unruly attraction has everything—and yet nothing—to do with his ferocity.

From the first, his raw sexuality lured me. That hasn’t changed.

A sudden knock sounds at the door, rattling through the cottage. With the magic we’ve placed around the perimeter, only a human can approach our lodgings.

Dinner has arrived.

“Let me get it.” Ice rises and, with a protective hand, urges me into hiding. “Stay back…just in case.”

He opens the door to a smallish woman, young with very fair skin and nearly black hair. She takes in Ice in the black dressing gown with a single skittish gaze—and flushes beet red.

“I-I’ll set your meal over here, sir.” Her voice shakes as she places a tray on a nearby table, then sneaks another side-eyed ogle of Ice. “R-ring the front house if you need anything else.”

The woman seems harmless enough, and Ice is either terrifying or arousing her. Or both. I emerge from behind the door. “We will. Thank you for bringing the food so promptly.”

The woman bows before Ice all but pushes her toward the door, clearly ready to be rid of her.

She lingers, glancing between us in the inn’s matching robes. “Honeymoon?”

Lacking a better response, I nod before cutting my gaze Ice’s way. Does he know what the human word means?

“You chose well. It’s romantic here. We usually do a little wedding cake for our newlyweds. We knew you were coming. I’m certain we did one for you. I’ll check the kitchen.”

The moment understanding dawns across Ice’s face, I feel myself flushing. I feel tongue-tied.

“Don’t,” Ice barks. “We simply want privacy. We’ll be leaving early.”

The little woman nods nervously, still eyeing him. “Indeed. I’ll leave you to it. Congratulations.”

Backing out the door with a last glance at Ice, the bed-and-breakfast clerk disappears into the blustery night. As Ice slams the door shut, I watch his face, but he gives nothing of his reaction away.

“You let her believe we’re newly mated?”

He’s not asking if I did, but why. Talking to this wizard would be so much easier if I could read his thoughts… I feel myself turn even redder. Is he laughing at the mere idea? Annoyed? Or aroused?

I have no idea. I don’t understand this man…

“Indeed. Not that we would…”

Midsentence, Ice raises that slash of a dark brow in challenge.

Instantly, I stop babbling.

“That we would…what? Fuck, princess?”

His words and the suggestion in their tone blast me with unbearable heat. If he ever touched me, I fear I would combust. I press my lips together to stave off this unruly ache I feel whenever he’s near. Now isn’t the right time. Ice isn’t the right man…no matter how badly my body insists otherwise.

Ice saunters closer, into my personal space where I can feel his heat, inhale his scent. His nearness brushes against my senses like static electricity, raising goose bumps along my skin. How can simple proximity feel so dangerously intimate?

“That we would…mate?” he whispers dangerously low.

My belly flips. I must divert this conversation now. We can’t ever share pleasure, much less mate. And verbalizing all the reasons why is pointless. He knows them every bit as well as I.

“I didn’t correct her because posing as newlyweds may throw Mathias off our trail if he tracks us here.” And now it’s time to drop this sensitive topic altogether. “Let’s eat before the food grows cold.”

He hesitates, his stare holding me captive, before he finally nods and approaches the little table.

Exhaling a silent breath of relief, I follow and uncover the plates.

Beef tips in a rich burgundy sauce, potatoes, delicate asparagus stalks, French bread, a lemon tart, and a bottle of rich red wine to polish it off.

Ice’s choices surprise me. They seem so… sophisticated.

“I guessed what you might like. If you don’t care for anything–”

“It’s lovely,” I assure him and try to smile.

My expression must pass muster, since he opens the wine and pours me a glass.

Then he grabs another plate and uncovers the second dish.

An enormous savory pie, steaming and fresh, and a huge glass of water.

As he settles with his meal and digs in without ceremony, I frown at the stark difference between the richness of the food on our plates.

“You don’t want beef tips and wine?”

“I’m accustomed to this.” He plucks up a forkful of pastry, chicken, and carrots.

I should let it go. Maybe he doesn’t like beef or particularly loves chicken pie…

but I don’t think that’s the case. The expensive wine, the delicate arrangement…

He ordered what he thinks a Privileged princess would expect.

While he, despite his obvious hunger, settled for simple fare.

Our divide suddenly feels wider than the small table separating us.

“I would have gladly eaten chicken pie as well. You didn’t have to order me anything special.”

His laugh is cutting. “Of course I did, princess.”

There it is again. The name, the slight sneer.

I lose what little appetite I had and throw down my fork with a clatter.

“I don’t think I deserve your name-calling.

I’ve hardly stood about like a damsel in distress, moaning over chipped fingernails and the like.

It’s December. It’s freezing , and I gave you my jumper.

I slogged through the mud beside you. I stole a car.

Yet you persist in mocking me. Just because I’m female hardly means I’m incapable. ”

He raises his gaze, pinning me as he considers me with a long stare. “It has nothing to do with you being female.”

Right then. It has everything to do with the fact I’m Bram’s sister.

Jumping from my chair, I storm the distance between us and hover over him, hands on my hips.

“This is war. I understand that. I’m throwing my lot in, sacrificing and fighting as need be.

Just because I grew up Privileged doesn’t mean I expect to be pampered.

So don’t you dare deride me or treat me as if I’m helpless. ”

He cocks his head, his stare somehow turning more penetrating. “You think I’m insulting you?”

Haven’t I just explained that in some detail? Yes, he’s done a great deal to comfort and protect me tonight. But his mocking pet name and tone grates. Clearly, it’s not meant to be polite. “How else could I possibly interpret the manner in which you call me ‘princess’?”

Ice drains his huge water glass in four long swallows.

I watch his throat work, the powerful column of his neck flexing with each gulp.

My own throat tightens in response, and something low in my belly clenches with primal recognition.

Oh, my days. The wizard is huge. He both terrifies me…

and makes me ache with a need I barely understand.

Glass empty, he slams it on the table, his stare intensifying. “Good. Keep taking it that way.”

Good? “What the devil does that mean? I’m not your enemy. We’re supposed to work together. You said you would help?—”

“And I will. But if you’re angry, we won’t be interacting more than necessary.”

What in blazes? Perhaps Ice is a madman, after all. “And you think that’s a good thing?”

“Indeed.” His voice drops to a dangerous growl that sends vibrations straight through my body. “Where you’re concerned, I have only two choices, princess: keep you angry or give in to my every urge to fuck you. Which would you prefer?”