Page 79 of A Killing Cold

“Still could,” Connor says. He puts his hand in mine. I stare down at our fingers.

He could still be lying. Maybe thisisa ploy to discover what I remember and what I’m planning to do.

Maybe he saw me and then released the arrow.

But I know that I was never afraid of Liam Dalton. And I am not afraid of Connor now.

I lean in toward him and press my lips against his. The lightest touch, a question and nothing more, until he answers it. His hand cups my face as he deepens the kiss and then he’s shifting from the table to the couch. His hands run over my leg, brush my neck, slide my coat gently from my shoulders. I wince as his palm brushes against my arm, but the pain is fleeting.

It isn’t delicate. It isn’t demanding. When his palm skims under myshirt, he pauses; I press against him. When I wrap my legs around his waist, I put a hand against his chest and look him in the eye, and I don’t move again until he does, bringing his body to mine.

Every movement now is a question. We could put words to them, but there is only one answer that matters in this moment.

The parts of me that are wounded still hurt, but having him like this is worth the pain, because I’m sure now. I’m sure of nothing else, but I’m sure of him.

36

I wake with a cry, my skin slick with sweat despite the chill. Morning light slants weakly through the window. I remember Connor nudging me awake, helping me into the bed. And I remember sheer exhaustion carrying me back into sleep. Connor isn’t here now, and the blankets are undisturbed on his side of the bed. He never joined me.

I put on my slippers and head into the main room. Connor is already up and dressed, standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee. I glance toward the door; his boots are there, caked in snow. He’s been out already.

“Did you sleep at all?” I ask. He shakes his head, and I can’t help but smile a little. “We should get packed.” But something in his face makes my stomach twist.

“We can’t leave,” he says. Fear closes up my throat. He nods toward the door. “Look outside.”

I go to the window, lifting aside the curtain, and my heart sinks. The world is blanketed in white—a deep, relentless layer of snow.

“The car can’t make it down the mountain safely in that, not today,” Connor says. “Vance’ll work on clearing things, but it won’t be today, and probably not tomorrow.”

“Then we take the Sno-Cat,” I say.

Connor hesitates. Then, “I’ll ask.”

“Connor—” I give him a warning look. He puts his hands on my arms soothingly, rubbing them up and down.

“I will figure it out. I promised you we’d leave, and we will. But I don’t know how to operate the Sno-Cat, and if we act like this is an emergency, it’s going to raise some eyebrows. Although…”

“What?” I prompt.

“We could tell people,” he says. “Talk to Granddad. To my mom. If they know what’s going on, Nick can’t—”

“Magnus is the one who sent me those messages, remember?” I ask. “Why would he do that unless he knew who he was? Whatever happened, Nick didn’t cover it up all on his own. We don’t know who else is involved.” I don’t add that this includes his mother.

His shoulders cave. “Okay. You’re right.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry. I wish I could whisk you away from here right now. But Nick can’t do anything as long as you’re with me.”

“We’ll go to breakfast,” I say. “Smile and hold hands and pretend everything is fine. And we’ll take the first ride out of here.”

“Hey,” Connor says. He rests his thumb on my chin, just beneath my lower lip. “Theo, listen. I don’t know exactly what happened all those years ago, or what’s going on now. But I know what’s going to happen.”

“You do?” I ask, skeptical.

“I do. We’re going to get away from here. We’re going to find the truth. And we’re going to be together,” Connor says. “We’re going to get married and travel the world and get a cat and have kids, if we want them—we’re going to do all the things we planned. All the things we promised.”

“Your family—”

“You are my family,” he tells me. “That’s the way it works. That’s what the ring means. Whatever happens, whatever we find out—we chose each other. That hasn’t changed.”

I put my hand on his chest, feel the quickened pace of his heart. The edge of my tattoo peeks out from under my sleeve. I never knew if it was a warning or a guide. Now I see that it’s both. It brought me here. Brought me to my past, to my memories. But first, it brought me to Connor.

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