Page 63 of Mistletoe

“I’m not sure. How will it affect you?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered, repeating her words. He brushed back her hair. She had been spending most nights with him in the bunkhouse. If he had his way, it would be every night. “You should wear your hair down more.”

“Not a chance, and don’t deflect. Answer the question.”

“Truthfully, I cannot say. During previous events, I was drugged and confined.” He had been concerned about the coming equinox. Draven warned him about the seasonal fluctuations. “I was awake during the last event, but my mind was fuzzy. I have been told that age helps.”

“I heard that the most dangerous beast is the recently infected.”

“Is it an infection?” he asked.

“You don’t know?”

Hal rolled onto his back, the bed creaking, and stared at the ceiling. “I know so little about myself. I woke up like this.”

She mirrored his motion, also lying on her back. “It’s not an infection. I misspoke, but some forms are contagious. The beast form, commonly called a werewolf, spreads by a bite. Not everyone who is bitten will turn, but you won’t turn without being bitten first.”

The night was silent. All Hal heard was the crackling of the fire and one loose shutter banging against the side of the building.

Emma reached for his hand. “If you need to spend the equinox alone, you should.”

“That would be the cautious approach.” Until they knew how the Nexus surge would affect him.

Yet the thought of being away from her was unbearable. Instinct told him that being with her, holding her against him, would soothe the fires that raged in his heart.

North Pasture

A goat was missing.This apparently was serious and required them to search the frozen landscape.

“It’s Buttercup. She’s probably down at the creek,” Emma said.

They followed the goat’s tracks across the pasture, tramping across damp ground. The air was damp and cold, the kind of deceptive chill that seemed tolerable until the dew soaked through various layers and your toes went numb. Hal would much prefer to be indoors. With Emma. In bed. Bundled under the blankets. Keeping warm and dry.

It was much too inclement for Emma to be outside, in his opinion. Her wool coat hung open. Her knit wool hat was in her pocket and not on her head.

“Buttercup has zero sense of self-preservation,” Hal grumbled.

“She’s a goat. They’re not exactly masterminds.”

“Masterminds of mischief.”

The bright red wool in her pocket taunted him.

“You’re glaring at me,” she said after a short pause in conversation.

He snatched the hat from her pocket, prompting an exclamation of surprise, and jammed the blasted hat on her head.

“Wear your hat,” he said. “And your coat is inadequate. It is too thin.”

“You may not have realized, being at the pinnacle of fashion, but your coat is too short.”

“I am not affected by the cold,” he said, “which is why you should have remained in the bunkhouse.”

“Hmm, keeping your bed warm?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“Keeping your person warm.”

“My person? Goodness. How altruistic of you to want that for me. I’m sure being cozy and snug in bed is of no benefit to yourself.”

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