Page 20 of A Snowed in Valentine's

“She doesn’t have any,” Carter reminded him, pulling him away. “Take five, will you? We can pick this up later.”

With that, she gave him a gentle shove toward the door. O’Hara shot Daphne one last glare, then stepped out of the interrogation room. Agent Carter followed suit, grabbing the file and the recorder from the table. She paused at the door, glancing back at Daphne.

“I’m trying to help you out here, Miss Emerson,” she said. “I can’t do that if you don’t help us.”

Chapter Seven

A Heated Problem

It was January. August knew this because he’d gotten used to keeping track of the days and weeks. He also knew this because there was only a month until Valentine’s Day. The mild ache that filled his body during this time of the year was a familiar one. It had been this since the tragedy.

Since Alaina was murdered.

The temperature inside the cabin was gradually dropping. Outside, the storm continued to rage, keeping them trapped inside. Unable to leave the cabin to gather wood, August was running out of fuel for the fireplace. It was just a matter of time until they’d run out of supplies. With no food and no fire for warmth, August could survive for a while, but before too long, he’d perish in these extreme conditions.

Great, August, he thought, grimacing as he tossed a log into the fireplace.First, Alaina, nowyouwill die because of a witch.

The worst part was that she wasn’t even really here to experience the damage her magic had done in this world. She stayed unconscious for days, weeks. He hated her for it, for being responsible for the troubles he now faced. Still, his stomach fluttered at the thought of her being fully conscious again.

He put another log on the fire, feeling a wave of satisfaction as the heat warmed his face. Straightening, he returned to his bedroom. Daphne was still asleep, shivering on the cot. His chest constricted as he walked over to her and bent to pick her up in his arms. She was soft against him, her skin cold to the touch. Her lips were parted as usual, and just as he had dozens of times before, he fought the urge to crush his lips against hers.

No sooner had August returned to the living room than she sighed and stirred in her sleep. Then, quite suddenly, she awoke with a shiver.

“Hey!” Her eyes snapped open wide with alarm as she stared at his face. “What are you—?”

“Relax,” he told her before she started to struggle. “You need more warmth.”

He walked over to the fireplace, setting her gently on the floor just a few feet away from the flames. She shivered some more, but he saw a flicker of gratitude in her grey eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, hugging her arms to herself. “Why’s it so cold?”

August’s jaw clenched. “Because the blizzard keeps getting worse. It must be an Emerson thing. You cause problems wherever you go.”

He still hadn’t gotten over what she’d told him about her ancestry.I’m a descendant of Eleanor Emerson,she’d said,one of the witches who created Frost Mountain.

Barely half an hour after that, she’d passed out again. August supposed he should be even more wary of her. Not only was she a witch, but she happened to be a descendant of one ofthewitches, the ones responsible for Frost Mountain. That made her significantly more dangerous than he’d realized.

“Not all witches are what you think we are,” she told him. “Some of us actually want to help people.”

He scoffed. “That’s rich coming from an Emerson witch.”

But he hadn’t forgotten what she’d told him.All I wanted was to fix this problem once and for all. What if she’d been telling the truth about that?

Don’t be ridiculous, August,he told himself.She was probably lying. Besides, regardless of her intentions, she’s dangerous. All of them are.

“Get some more rest,” he told her.

Night had fallen. No light filtered in through the tiny cracks in the walls. He should probably get some rest as well. Back in his bedroom on his bed, by himself, alone with his thoughts.

The idea both appealed to him and reviled him.

He turned to leave.

“August,” Daphne said softly, “wait.”

The sound of her voice sent a tingle down his spine. He froze, turning slowly.

“Yes?” His voice had gone husky.

---