Page 15 of Blood on the Ice

“I didn’t ask for that, Lucas!”

Giving her a firm expression, I shrug. “I know, but you should have. It’s disgraceful to shove you in this house full of Magnus’ shit and fuck knows what else. That was a purposeful slight by people who should have better decorum and you not complaining stinks of punishing yourself for ending up here. Since I neither believe you need to be punished further nor wish to get petty revenge, I took care of it. Your pride will survive, Morgana.”

That seems to stymie her. She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again before she actually speaks. “I… I never thought of it that way.”

“Well, I did. The minute I explored, I figured out why you’re sleeping in the living room and it’s not just waiting for your things to be shipped from England.” I shake my head and gesture for her to follow me. “It wasn’t hard to arrange, and I was happy to do it. Come back and help plate the food so we can eat. You look exhausted.”

“Gee, thanks,” she mutters as she pulls off the suit coat and hangs it on the bannister.

I was right; she’s absolutely smoking hot under those fancy duds.

Letting my eyes roam over her curves, I realize she’s not only older and more put together than my typical woman, but also completely opposite in body type. Her height is a major factor; however, her sturdy frame and soft curves are reminiscent of that chick in the human show. She’s built like the warrior woman—broad, but feminine. I suppose it’s the gargoyle in her; she’d have to support the wings. Those are hot as hell from what I saw when she left yesterday, but I’m curious about her other supernatural attributes. What happens with the stone shit? And I can’t wait to see the snakes again… that almost has me giddy.

“Don’t be sour. I promise to ogle you the entire time if you lighten up a little.”

She rolls her eyes and then pauses, giving me a sincere look. “Your ego doesn’t need stroking anymore, but I am grateful for this. It’s one of the nicest things anyone has done since I arrived, and I shouldn’t let my tired, cranky bullshit prevent me from thanking you—even if I suspect your motives are less than pure.”

“Gotta stick a fork in me, don’t you, babe?” I tease. She grins a little and nods, so I turn on my heel. “Let’s go fill your belly and we can discuss that later.”

As long as I can keep that smile on her face, I might actually have a chance.

bad decisions

“So your grandmother basically raised you?” I say as I wipe the remnants of the delicious sauce off of my chin.

Lucas’s eyes dance as he watches me. “Yep. My folks are… exactly what one would imagine for trust fund kids who got married. Nana took over, so I wasn’t being parented only by nannies and au pairs.”

I think about how lonely that would be, especially if he was automatically suspicious of all his peers because of theWolfenberg family fortune. My brow furrows and I tilt my head. “Why is your name Wolfberg and your grandmother’s is Wolfenberg?”

“She’s the matriarchal grandmother. And yes, a lot of the families are intertwined from a bunch of inter-marriages centuries ago. It’s sort of like two dudes named Travis getting married and having the same name.” His grin is playful as he bobs his brows. “I’ve never been worried about what will happen with that because I told Nana I’m not continuing that bullshit. I’ll date or mate or marry with whomever I want and we’ll negotiate that when I make my choice.”

My face flushes bright red when I realize he’s being very purposeful with that information. Obviously, I didn’t mean for my curious question to leadthere, but I’m sure some women fish in that pond early on to test their chances. “I guess I’m lucky my parents were never concerned with family lineage because their money is ‘new money.’ They never liked Magnus, though, and boy, does my mom love to remind me how right she was.”

Lucas reaches over and picks up the chianti bottle, pouring me another glass before he replies. “So she has excellent instincts—that’s good to know. How are your parents dealing with the whole… trial and punishment thing?”

Looking down at my plate, I shrug. I’ve done my best to keep them out of my mess and it’s been convenient that they live in that chic retirement community with gates and security. Paparazzi and lookie-loos can’t get in and they don’t get constantly hounded; it’s something I’m incredibly grateful for. “My dad supports me entirely; my mother thinks I should have made better choices. However, they’re not disowning me or withdrawing support. Mom is just tired of people quizzing her allthe time—gossip and such in their neighborhood. It disrupts herjoie de vivre, as she calls it.”

“Interesting. I wondered why they weren’t at the trial—hearing they disagree on their support makes that understandable,” he says as he leans back in his chair.

“No!” I shake my head. “I asked them to stay away. Magnus made poor decisions, and I did what I had to. No one besides the two of us should suffer the consequences of those actions.”

“Ah, butyouare the only one suffering, Morgana. He’s dead, and you faced all the censure, plus they have sentenced you to cleaning up his fucking mess. How is that fair?” His features tighten and I realize he means it—he doesn’t think they should punish me this way.

How odd. No one reacts this way.

I let my gaze move to his hands, then up his arms, and finally to his chest before looking him in the eye. “It’s not fair, but neither is life. There’s always a price to pay for vengeance; my mother is a witch, and she’s been preaching that my whole life. You can have your justice, but you can’t run from the blowback.”

He rubs his hand over his face and then shakes his head, looking frustrated. “I don’t believe you killed the creepy ass fucker just because he cheated on you. I know there’s more—which means you’re doing penance you don’t deserve. It doesn’t sit well with me, Morgana.”

This fucking guy—it’s like he can read me, but he’s a shifter, not a mind bender.

“Why do you say that?” I ask as I twirl the stem of my wine glass nonchalantly.

Pushing to his feet, Lucas stands and holds a hand out. I try to ignore the urge to do as he wants, but my body has a mind of its own. When I’m standing in front of him, mere inches from his frame, the polar bear shifter brushes the hair away from my face as he looks down at me. The heat from our bodies is making me tingle and I have to actively work to keep my eyes open. It’s been so long since… everything. I haven’t been this close to a man since well before the trial.

“Because something about you clicks for me, Morgana. I don’t know why, but the minute you walked into the locker room, it slid into place. It was damn near impossible to focus on the dead body and the goddamned police station for all those hours.” His hands land on my waist, tugging me forward until I’m pressed against him in a way that makes it impossible to misconstrue how he feels.

“Lucas,” I say as I put my palms on his chest. “Maybe it’s the thrill of something forbidden. You’re young, and based on how you behave, I doubt you’ve really had many serious?—”

---