Page 32 of Possess Me at Midnight
I settle myself against the downy pillows and close my eyes…but my thoughts refuse to stop. Bram himself didn’t mate strategically. He Called to a human who disappeared a handful of hours after capturing the heart of the most sought-after bachelor in magickind. He didn’t Call to a Council member’s daughter or even a wealthy oligarch’s progeny. He Called to the woman who appealed to his heart.
Against my will, I resent that I can’t do the same. A hot current of bitterness floods my chest. Why should Bram get to follow his heart when mine must be chained to political strategy? For a moment, I allow myself to hate the unfairness of it, to imagine a world where I could choose based on desire rather than duty. I could freely consider Ice’s call purely on the merits of my feelings.
But that world isn’t mine.
Absently, I nibble on my bottom lip. I’ve met Rye Spencer once. He’s nice enough, but his touch didn’t send electricity crackling across my skin like Ice’s. And Sebastian Blackbourne, the arrogant devil, is no man’s pawn. He’s even less likely to be any woman’s docile mate. His gaze has never made my knees weak or my core molten. He’ll take and take, then demand more without imagining why any woman would say no.
Choosing one of those wizards as my mate is a tomorrow problem. Right now, only Bram matters—his health first, then his political position…if he lives long enough. I’m ashamed that I’ve allowed myself to be distracted by Ice’s Call instead of assessing my brother’s condition. Time to remedy that.
Except Ice is likely curled up on the dinky sofa. Not asleep. Does he even have a blanket to warm him on this frigid December night? Despite everything, I can’t stop myself from caring about his comfort.
Slipping from my cozy bed, I prowl the room, looking for a spare quilt. Nothing, not in the sturdy walnut wardrobe, not in the chest at the foot of the bed. I can’t leave the man with no blanket on a sofa that’s two miles too short for his big body. Earlier, I offered him the bed. He scoffed and dismissed me.
Gathering the quilt off the heap of my covers, I drape it over my arm, then creep into the main room. Firelight licks over Ice’s prone form as he sprawls on his back, his massive frame dwarfing the lumpy sofa. His neck propped up on the armrest looks most uncomfortable. His calves and feet hang over the other end. Once more, I regret my reluctant acceptance of the room’s final spare bed.
“What is it?” He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. Even in shadow, his eyes burn like green embers, tracking my every movement.
The desire burning off his body blasts me with scorching heat. My gaze betrays me, dropping to the hard planes of his chest where the robe has fallen open, then lower—to the sizable bulge between his legs. Every nerve ending in my body lights up in response.
“I thought you might be cold.” I sound almost breathless as I unfold the blanket with unsteady hands and spread it over his powerful frame, struggling to cover both his broad shoulders and his feet that hang well past the sofa’s end.
His jaw tightens as he looks from the blanket to me. “This is from your bed. Put it back.”
“I have another,” I lie, the words tumbling out too quickly. “I’ll be plenty cozy.”
“It’s yours.” His voice drops to a dangerous rumble, brooking no argument. “I have the fire.”
I shake my head. “Keep it. I’m going to check on my brother before bed.”
“Have you given any more thought to writing in the Doomsday Diary?”
“I know that’s risky, but…” I hesitate. “Hopefully soon.”
“Is that wise?”
“I cannot sit about helplessly and watch my brother die when I have the power to save him. I’ll have to hope it doesn’t kill us both in the process,” I answer with a shrug. “If we find that Mathias can’t track the diary through usage, then I’ll regret not trying it. Beyond that, I know the diary’s rules. Whatever I write cannot be too big for my magic, and it must be my heart’s deepest desire.”
“You’re powerful. The way you uphold your brother, he’s clearly your heart’s priority. You should have no problem.”
Meaning Ice clearly isn’t my priority. His dig shouldn’t bother me.
It does.
“Family is important to me,” I defend.
He raises a black brow at me. “Indeed.”
“You cannot make me feel guilty for loving my brother.”
“I would never want you to.” He slants me a look of hot challenge. “I’m merely puzzled that you seem not to have room for another in your heart.”
“Of course I do.”
“Then your refusal to answer my Call is specific to me. Got it. How many Calls have you received, Sabelle? How many have you Renounced?”
Is he insinuating that I enjoy toying with wizards’ affections? “None. I would never purposefully—” I shake my head. “First, you cast me in the role of vapid blond siren. Now the heartless bitch. I can’t imagine why you Called to me if you think so little of me.”
“Instinct aside, I’m not certain, either. A mistake, regardless.”
