Page 24 of A Snowed in Valentine's

“You can’t keep toying with us, Miss Emerson,” she told her, rising to her feet. She picked up the grimoire. “Like I said, this is a serious matter. The fact that you’re still here is something to be grateful for. There are higher-ups who won’t hesitate to usewhatever means to get the information out of you. If you keep refusing to cooperate…well, it’s out of our hands.”

She turned to leave but glanced over her shoulder at Daphne. When she spoke again, it was softly.

“Trust me,” she said, “you do not want the CIA or Homeland Security on your ass.”

***

It was the cold that woke her. She opened her eyes with a shudder, feeling as though she’d just been dragged out of a dream. She tilted her head at the sound of a soft crackling. The fire was still going, but there wasn’t enough wood to keep it alive much longer.

No wonder it’s so cold in here, she thought.

She had become so used to the storm raging outside that the howling of the wind was little more than a background sound now. The blizzard still hadn’t ended. Like every other problem Daphne had created by acting impulsively, it seemed to be worsening.

She started to sit up, wondering where August kept his firewood and realized that she was not alone. An arm was draped over her torso, crushing her breasts. Behind her, August stirred and continued snoring lightly. Daphne held her breath, feeling her nipples instantly hardening at his touch. She wished it was merely because of the cold, but the weather didn’t explain the warmth spreading through her body as the witch hunter stirred again, his groin pressed deliciously against her bottom.

Thoughts of what had happened the last time she’d gotten this close to August flashed through her mind like images on a projector screen, and she nearly let out a whimper of protest as she felt the wetness gathering between her thighs. This shouldn’t be happening. It wasn’t right.

Why, then, did it feel so good? If she was being honest with herself, she could lie here for some more time.

Another shiver traveled through her body just then, strengthening her resolve. With painstaking carefulness, not wanting to rouse him from sleep, she extricated herself from August’s embrace and climbed to her feet, holding one hand out to steady herself against the fireplace. Reminding herself that she could only remain on her feet for so long before her strength gave out, she wandered about the expanse of the cabin, scanning her surroundings for more firewood.

It dawned on her that she hadn’t really had time to notice the cabin. The living room was smallish and looked lived in. The chairs sat on the thick, animal-skin rug facing the fireplace, and a table sat in a corner, laden with several items that she couldn’t identify at first. She drew closer, squinting, and saw bottles and a few overturned bowls. The bottles held some murky liquid.

Potions, she realized, remembering the potion August had given her to knock her out earlier.

The witch hunter clearly liked to be prepared, she deduced, as her gaze landed on a set of weapons hanging on the walls. In the flickering firelight, she could just make out a sword, a few daggers, and a crossbow. A longbow and quiver sat on the floor beneath the other weapons. This man was obviously a skilled hunter. Fortunately, there weren’t any Glocks or AK-47s in sight.

Convinced that a witch hunter like this man must have trophies of some sort, she resumed her tour of the living room, pausing only when she came to another table. This one was mostly bare except for a few cracked bowls, but it was the wooden box beneath it that caught her attention.

With another shiver, she knelt, wincing at the soft, scraping sound as she pulled it out from under the table. The box looked like it had been handcrafted. There was no lock. With a slight grin, Daphne pried off the lid and peered inside.

The box held a few tattered books stacked neatly atop one another. Her curiosity growing, Daphne reached into the boxand withdrew a familiar-looking object, brushing her finger over the worn leather.

A wallet,she thought, with a frown.What’s a wallet doing in here?

Items from Earth arrived on Frost Mountain all the time, Daphne knew. It wouldn’t be unusual to spot a wallet in the snow outside. But August must have kept it in the box for some reason. She opened the wallet, eyeing the remnants of what must have been dollar bills. A slight gleam drew her gaze instantly to something else in the wallet. She pulled it out slowly with the caution of an archaeologist, fearing it would disintegrate, and stared at it.

It was an ID card with the name ALAINA THEODORA NORRIS. Next to it was a portrait of a brown-haired woman with heavy-lidded eyes and a small nose. Daphne continued to examine the card. The woman’s date of birth was only a few years later than hers. She was Hispanic, a nurse, and…and wherewasshe? And why did August have her wallet hidden away in a box?

Behind her, a voice growled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Chapter Nine

The Witch Hunter’s Tale

She shot to her feet and whirled around wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Only after realized who it was did she relax a little. In the dim firelight, he saw her cheeks darken somewhat alluringly as she stared up at him through her lashes.

“I…I was just looking for some firewood,” she replied. “I guess I got a little curious and decided to look around.”

In her hands, she clutched the wallet. August’s heart immediately began hammering in his chest. What was she doing withthat?

He’d been worried when he awoke to find her gone. For a moment, he’d entertained all sorts of troubling thoughts about what might have happened to her. But here she was, snooping around. He scowled at the sight of Alaina’s wallet.

“Give it to me,” he said thickly, holding out a hand. “Now.”

She handed the wallet to him, and he stared at it for a moment, pulling out the plastic card. Alaina’s face stared back at him, unsmiling. For a split second, August felt like he’d been lanced through the chest as the memory hit him again—that distant yell, Alaina’s eyes widening in terror seconds before the explosion…

Valentine’s Day was fast approaching. In just a few weeks, it would be the anniversary of his wife’s murder at the hands of a witch. This card was a painful reminder that he didn’t need it. He considered slipping it back into the wallet but instead tossed the wallet into the box and slipped the card into his pocket. Then he faced the witch who was staring back at him.

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