Page 16 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

His jaw tightens as he looks from the blanket to me. “This is from your bed. Put it back.”

“I have another,” I lie, the words tumbling out too quickly. “I’ll be plenty cozy.”

“It’s yours.” His voice drops to a dangerous rumble, brooking no argument. “I have the fire.”

I shake my head. “Keep it. I’m going to check on my brother before bed.”

“Have you given any more thought to writing in the Doomsday Diary?”

“I know that’s risky, but…” I hesitate. “Hopefully soon.”

“Is that wise?”

“I cannot sit about helplessly and watch my brother die when I have the power to save him. I’ll have to hope it doesn’t kill us both in the process,” I answer with a shrug.

“If we find that Mathias can’t track the diary through usage, then I’ll regret not trying it.

Beyond that, I know the diary’s rules. Whatever I write cannot be too big for my magic, and it must be my heart’s deepest desire. ”

“You’re powerful. The way you uphold your brother, he’s clearly your heart’s priority. You should have no problem.”

Meaning Ice clearly isn’t my priority. His dig shouldn’t bother me.

It does.

“Family is important to me,” I defend.

He raises a black brow at me. “Indeed.”

“You cannot make me feel guilty for loving my brother.”

“I would never want you to.” He slants me a look of hot challenge. “I’m merely puzzled that you seem not to have room for another in your heart.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then your refusal to answer my Call is specific to me. Got it. How many Calls have you received, Sabelle? How many have you Renounced?”

Is he insinuating that I enjoy toying with wizards’ affections? “None. I would never purposefully—” I shake my head. “First, you cast me in the role of vapid blond siren. Now the heartless bitch. I can’t imagine why you Called to me if you think so little of me.”

“Instinct aside, I’m not certain, either. A mistake, regardless.”

His words are well-aimed barbs. Is he trying to make me hurt as I hurt him? Even knowing that’s likely, it doesn’t stop the gibes from finding their mark. Or the pain from spreading all through me, radiating a hot, debilitating agony.

“I tried to stop you.”

“Renounce me.”

This again? “In the morning. I’m exhausted, and we only have a few hours to rest.”

“Won’t you sleep better with this off your chest?”

He’s pushing me for reasons I can’t understand. His words demand I reject him, but that burning laser gaze of his, so green and full of desire… Renouncing him is the last thing he wants.

“Good night.”

Before he can reply, I make my way into the second bedroom, where Bram lies still as death.

The cloud of black smoke has thickened in the last hour.

His magical signature flickers, fades, like a candle struggling in a storm.

I press my palm to his forehead—clammy, cold, nothing like the vibrant warmth that always radiated from my brother.

I bite my lip until I taste copper, holding in tears.

I’m too tired to spend more. The weight of fear settles in my chest like lead.

I don’t have the emotional energy or luxury of crying. Tend to business. Get sleep. Start again tomorrow. Don’t linger, don’t think, don’t feel.

Dragging Bram’s covers over him, I kiss his forehead, then smooth his hair from his face.

He needs a shower. I need a phone to resume searching for his mate.

Energy would help him, and I have no way to give him enough to recover.

Besides, Bram is now mated and would most efficiently absorb energy from his mysterious Emma. Without it, he’ll die.

What a bloody mess.

Fighting tears again, I tiptoe back through the main room, purposely not looking at Ice. If I do, he’ll only engage me. We’ll talk. Argue again. I don’t have any more fight in me.

I’ve made my choice to focus on Bram, on magickind, on defeating Mathias. Whatever I feel for Ice, I must ignore it.

As I push open my bedroom door, I freeze. The quilt lies on the bed, neatly spread and tucked in with military precision. It radiates Ice’s woodsy scent. My heart twists. Even when I refuse to answer his Call, he puts my needs before his own, sacrificing his comfort for mine.

The realization cuts deep. My pulse quickens, indignation and something far more dangerous tangling in my chest.

I storm across the floor and wrench open the door, words of protest burning my tongue. Ice is already sitting upright, his expression carved from stone, those green eyes glittering with challenge.

“Not a word, princess,” he growls, his voice a dangerously low command that reverberates in my bones. “And don’t lie to me anymore. Shut the door and go to sleep.”

“You’re bossy.” I lift my chin defiantly.

“Yes, and I’m using every ounce of my will to restrain myself,” he says before his gaze drops to my mouth and lingers there with scorching intent. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t…”

The implication hangs heavy between us, electric and dangerous—all the ways he might claim what his instinct tells him is already his.

He’s baiting me, and I know it. Bloody infuriating man.

I slam the door with enough force to rattle the hinges, then storm to the bed, wrapping myself in righteous anger.

But as I slip between the sheets, that anger dissolves like sugar in hot tea.

All I really want is to fling open the door and call his bluff.

To invite him into this bed to share the blanket…

and our body heat. But I know where that would lead—his large hands exploring every inch of me, his mouth claiming mine with hungry possession, our bodies joining in the most primal way.

The mere thought sends a rush of liquid warmth through my core, and I squeeze my thighs together, fighting against an emptiness I fear only he can fill.

Even one night of pleasure would complicate everything. If I give in to this pull between us without Binding to Ice, I’ll be using him, like he’s accused me of doing.

I roll onto my side, curling into myself beneath the blanket that smells of sage, cedar, and Ice.

The scent that should comfort me only sharpens the ache of what I can’t have.

By morning, we’ll still be on the run, Mathias will still be hunting us, and Bram will be even closer to death.

And I’ll still be trapped between duty and desire, between the fate of our world and the man who, against my will, is slowly branding himself onto my very soul.