Page 22 of Born of Ice

The fingers around my wheels are clammy and I think I’m moving but I’m not sure.

Whatever control of my body I still had is rendered useless when I’m like this. When my new reality crashes against that thin new layer of ice I’ve built for myself with the slightestmention of the accident or my old life and the next thing I know, I’m falling through it.

Again, and again.

I need air. Water. I need, I need…breathe…

7

Gorgeous but a psychopath, nonetheless

Exton

What a waste offucking time! I slam the door to my G-wagon, letting my head drop to the headrest as I rub my eyes. Now what?

If being a glorified babysitter to a whiny little star was my only way back to the ice and now I’m no longer needed for that…then now what? Screw this shit, they can’t do this to me. And even if she would still need me, I’d leave. I’m not just a nobody they can push around. I’m Exton motherfucking Quinn!

And Electra Monroe is fucking nuts! A psychopath.

A gorgeous one, though, with eyes so light blue they might as well be like ice. Empty like it too. The emptiest I've ever seen. Her long hair so dark it’s almost black.

Fucking hell. And those low-cut bangs framed her sharp yet delicate face features. They kept getting into her eyes and my fingers just itches to brush it away.

She was also tiny. Even in that chair, I could tell she’d at most come up to my chest, but hell, if her body didn’t pack a punch. She’s too skinny, clearly having lost weight since her injury but the curves I could see were all too promising.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous but a psychopath, nonetheless, and to my utter horror, my dick still can’t calm down from our encounter.

Fucker…having books thrown at me, my liver poked with a spatula and that sweet mouth mouthing off like I was the enemy didn’t do anything to deter him from wanting that angry elf.

The second she opened the door, I was hit with that intrusive thought and it close-circuited my brain, kicking it into an asshole gear.

Granted, that’s my usual gear, but I wasn’t actually planning on being one to her.

Hell, I didn’t ask for this now, did I?

I didn’t ask for any of the shit in my life.

I need a drink.

Yes, at one PM.

Peeling out of her reclusive driveway—because of course she lives on the outskirts of an already small town—I head for Main Street which seemed to be the only street in Iris Lake that had any sort of life happening on it.

I’m a Boston baby, from birth till now, and we sure do travel a lot with the team during the season, but I’ve never been to a town like this one. Small, beat up, and very old—ancient really—but somehow it holds one of the best training facilities for figure skaters across the country, led by none other than Stella-the-Terminator Gray herself.

Yes, that’s my official name for that witch.

Although, the facility is a good half an hour drive from here, so I guess it doesn’t really count. And fine, the town is actually quite charming. I’m just too angry to notice any of it.

Fifteen minutes later, I am still fuming from my encounter with that falling star when I push open the doors to Blade’s Pub. It’s small and old just like the rest of the Iris Lake, but unlike the rest of the town, that old feel is used to its advantage here.

It’s polished over with the reclaimed wood accents, fancy-yet-old-school juke box and stained concrete floors. The tables are a mix of sturdy wooden high tops and regular seater metal ones. And the bar, where I am headed to, is stocked to the brim with any liquor your heart can desire.

Seeing as it’s only one PM, I didn’t expect it to be as full as it is, but I take it as a good sign that I won’t be poisoned here. Throwing myself into one of the chairs, I signal the bartender.

“Hey, your first time here?” a stocky guy with a buzz cut, who’s maybe a couple of years younger than me, asks me.

“That obvious?”

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