Page 50 of Blood on the Ice

I hear her rummaging around and tilt my head. “You’re a goddamn savior, man. I feel like I’ve been run through a thresher and coffee might help me get my mojo back.”

“You’re going to feel shitty for a few days.” The Prince walks in looking rumpled. He’s half dressed, unlike his bodyguard, and he looks easily as comfortable as Iggy and Slade. “The Fae poison blend they used is potent enough to linger, even after we drained the bulk of it out forcefully.”

“I still can’t thank you enough for coming over, Liam,” Morgana says as she comes out of the kitchen empty-handed. She obviously forgot she’s not stocked after the hoard eating here for a few days and found the cupboard bare. “I feel bad because I can’t make everyone breakfast, but perhaps we could?—”

“I already ordered food,” Slade says cheerily. “I’m usually up early to take a dip in the mornings and when I got back, Icouldn’t find anything to fix. It’s coming, but I have to leave for work at three. Will Jackson arrive before then? I’d hate to miss it.”

Morgana looks at all five of us, her expression suddenly full of panic. “Miss it? You’re all… staying for the meeting? Like, to help us?”

Kaspar makes a scoffing sound, but the rest of the guys nod. I reach up and offer my hand, squeezing hers gently. “It looks like we have a team, too. Seems foolish to turn down their offer.”

She licks her lips, still looking like she’s going to bolt any second. “Okay. You can stay for the meeting. But I’m going to go shower and get cleaned up—alone. I need… some time.”

I chuckle softly, letting go of her. “Definitely not to panic, right?”

“Absolutely not,” the raven-haired beauty says as she squares her shoulders. “I never panic.”

We’ll see about that.

By the timeMorgana comes downstairs, the others have run to their homes to get cleaned up as well. She sees the empty room and breathes a sigh of relief. I’m glad to see she’s still dressed down in jeans and a big comfy sweater with bare feet. I was worried she might throw her Armani armor on and any hope of getting her to talk with me about our guests would be out the window.

“Your food is in the microwave. I’m going to go up and scrub my skin raw for a few minutes, then I’ll be back.” I smile as I push up off the couch, wincing a bit. “Hopefully, the hot water will ease some of this ache so we can curl up on the couch until they get back.”

Watching me, her eyes narrow. “What do you plan to do on the couch? It better not be marking your territory.”

“As lovely as that sounds—and it does—I’m still weak for that. I want to talk about our new friends and what it means.”

There’s the panicked look again.

“Morgana, I know you’re still healing from the trial and Magnus’ bullshit. If we hadn’t mated, you might even have pushed me away. I’m not stupid.” I walk over to her, looking into her eyes. “But that’s not what happened, and we didn’t justrun intothe perfect people to help us solve my problem.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t a romance novel, Lucas. Random people don’t come walking into your life because some driving force caused them to. It’s… butterflies flapping their wings in China and shit.” Her cheeks flush red and she wrinkles her nose at me. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“First of all, Fate is a thing, and I know you know that. And their plans for all of us change with that butterfly flapping, which is why they weave and re-weave their tapestry. My Nana taught me all about it and she doesn’t suffer fools.” Sighing, I tug on the end of her girly ponytail lightly. “I’m going to go shower and you need to come to grips with the fact that there might be a bunch of Fae royalty walking the earth, but having a Prince down the street is too much of a coincidence to ignore.”

“But Lucas…”

“No buts, Morgana. I almost died. I’m not kicking people out who were clearly sent to help us because you’re scared. You’re stronger than that; this is simply a knee-jerk reaction because I’m not dying.”

She’s still sputtering as I head for the stairs, dragging myself up them one by one.

I know I’m right; I can feel it in my bones.

I take much longer than I normally would to haul my ass up to the master bedroom and I glare at it as I head for her bathroom. Once we settle this shit with Jackson, this house is the next thing we’re going to deal with. I want all of this scaly motherfucker’s shit out of here. I don’t care if it goes in a museum or a garbage can, but Morgana can’t keep living in this shitty shrine to her past.

Her clothes are hanging on curtain rods and half out of suitcases and trunks. There’s a pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor where she clearly attempted to sleep on the floor because she didn’t want to be in the bed. With a low growl, I turn and punch the wall, leaving a dent and red marks on my knuckles. I hate that she’s been treated this way and if I find out which asshole board members let this shit happen, I’m having Nana handle them. It’s disgraceful even if she wasn’t my mate.

I shake my head and head into the bathroom. Now,thisfeels more like Morgana. She has hair and beauty products lined up on fixtures, organized by color and type. The towels are pitch black with deep midnight patterns stitched at the hems and a long, silky robe hangs on the back of the door. The scent of lavender, dragon’s blood, and jasmine hangs in the air, making my cock stand up eagerly.

Okay, maybe I’m not too tired for that.

Chuckling, I turn on the hot water, making sure it’s hot and steamy before I step in. The heat makes my muscles relax a tiny smidgen and I groan happily. I’ve had my ass kicked all over the ice for most of my life and I’ve never been as sore as I am now. Whatever happened while I was getting the venom shit pulled out of me put my body through hell and I’m paying for it now.

“Focus, Wolfberg,” I mutter to myself. “Make this quick and get down there before the others get back.”

I don’t know why I woke up with this intense drive to get Morgana on board with more mates. It’s not in my nature as a guy and definitely not in my bear’s nature. But something deep inside of me is screaming that those people saving me, being there to keep me alive, wasn’t just happenstance. I don’t knowwhyI feel like this or what my instincts think is going on, but it’s important. For someone who’s spent the better part of his life focusing on his pro career, to the exclusion of everything else—it’s a weird feeling, like I’m tied to something bigger than myself.

But I am, and this murder is just the tip of the iceberg.

---