Page 33 of Born of Ice

“Oh my god! Get out of here!” She lunges for me, trying to push me off the bed, but since her legs aren’t working and she can’t support her body like she used to, Electra just plops down on her side, right next to my naked chest, like a lifeless doll, and lets out a strangled growl.

“Good try, cripple. Next time, use your legs, that might help.” I pat her head in what should be a patronizing motion, but when my fingers come in contact with her silky, soft hair, they linger there, relishing in the touch.

Bloody hell, first her neck, now her hair.

I’m done.

“I hate you,” she mumbles in the mattress and using her hands lifts herself up back into the sitting position she was in, her eyes trailing over my bare chest as she does so.

“You cannot sleep here,” Electra declares, folding her arms across her hard nipples.

Maybe I agree with her, given my weird reaction right now, but you see, I have this toxic trait. If you tell me I can’t do something, I’m gonna do it.

And ifshetells me I can’t do something, well…I won’t just do it, I’ll make sure to rub it in too.

“What’s wrong, little star? Afraid you won’t be able to control yourself and climb me like a tree in the middle of the night?” I arch one eyebrow and relish in the pink tinge over her cheeks. “I am quite tempting.”

The pink is still there, but so is her inner bitch as she raises her unimpressed gaze my way. “The only thing I might be tempted to do is kill you in your sleep.”

“Then I think we are safe. Because A, you won’t be able to reach me without actually using your legs. B, trust me, I’m not interested in the slightest. I’ll keep to my side. You keep to yours and as soon as you get up and walk, I’ll be gone from your boring life.”

Only I’m a filthy liar, because when she suddenly shuts off the lights with a dainty little remote without another word and the whole room is bathed in darkness apart from the moonshine coming through the small window on top of the headboard, I find myself tracking her every breath and movement.

Even with my back to her, I’m too aware of her body lying next to mine. I’m too aware that simply being in her presence somehow calmed the raging storm inside me. It shut off the hate and bitterness and deep-rooted anger I first walked in with.

What is it about her? Sure, any idiot can see that Electra Monroe is hot as fuck. I mean, look at my own friend who couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

But I saw that the second she opened her door. Yet this weird ache didn’t take root until…until earlier today when my puck hit her legs.

That sound…it pierced through me and found a nice place inside.

And when sleep takes over me, I fall into the abyss to the sounds of her bone-deep pain, and I find myself looking for her, only catching small glimpses of her dark hair, her empty icy eyes, the tips of her fingers. But I know it’s her. And then I hear a crack.

Loud. Deadly, and so cold. My hands are reaching out on instinct, grazing her skin but she just falls through the sharp cracks, and then I’m downright running through the dark waters when suddenly everything stops.

It all freezes like in a frozen hell, and I know she stopped fighting. I feel it and I plunge after her, pulling her out from the icy waters.

“I’ve got you…”

Electra

Trust me, I’m not interested in the slightest…

I wish I could turn around and sleep with my back to him, but that’s not my reality. What was once my favorite sleeping position is now an obstacle.

Back at the hospital, I was given a special body support pillow to sleep with, but that thing pissed me off the first night and I threw it away. So here I am, on my back, and my best form of defiance is turning my head away from him and switching the lights off before I allow my emotions to show to the world. Before I can dissect why it hurt way more than it should have to hear Exton freaking Quinn say it.

I know he has no interest in me.

And I don’t have any in him either.

But the way he said it, it wasn’t because I’m disabled. It was a man talking to a woman. And for a second, I desperately wanted to bejust a womanwho could catch his eye. Because he doesn’t see me as actual cripple. He doesn’t use that word with venom or contempt like Erik did. For him, it’s simply a statement and somehow that makes me feel whole.

Like it’s okay to be in this chair. Like I’m no different from any other person out there with two healthy legs.

But I’m an idiot who’s looking for something that’s not there. And never will be.

I don’t even attempt to fall asleep at this time because the faster I do, the sooner those icy waters drag me down. The sooner the nightmares plague me. That unmistakable slash of the ice. The biting cold of the arena. The cheering from the crowds. It’s all the same every night, and no matter how manytimes I try to wake myself from this dream that’s more like a prison, it never lets go.

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