Page 35 of Possess Me at Midnight
I’m rattled and on edge as I start the car, ready to speed away from the petrol station—and danger. Ice has other plans.
He bends to mutter through my cracked window. “Ease up to the convenience store. I’ll just be a minute.”
He wants to linger here when there are Anarki nearby? “Are you insane?”
“We need supplies. I’ll have an eye on you.”
My nerves jangle as I watch Ice stride across the lot like any other human on an early morning jaunt and disappear inside. I follow, pulling into a parking space.
After what feels like the longest three minutes of my life, he emerges with several sacks, including a paper bag of what smells like fresh pastries. He folds himself into the passenger seat beside me and tosses the food on top of the console, then dives into one of the plastic sacks.
He pulls out a utilitarian olive-green cap. “To hide your hair.”
The hat is nothing special. In fact, it’s almost ugly. But a mate is instinctively motivated to keep his female safe, so Ice is trying to disguise me from the Anarki. Perhaps I should feel coddled or annoyed by his gesture. Instead, I find myself touched.
“Thank you,” I say softly, already settling it on my head and tucking my long, pale tresses underneath.
He sends me a curt nod. “You’re still too beautiful to pass as an average human, but this will have to do.”
And when he says things like that…I melt even more.
“Back on the road. Don’t speed away,” he cautions, glaring at the Anarki as I start the engine. “Or you’ll draw attention. Drive like you have all day.”
Gritting my teeth, I ease onto the road, white-knuckling the steering wheel as we pass within a hundred meters of the robed figures. My pulse pounds in my ears, but I maintain an even speed, even signaling properly at the turn that takes us out of the village. Only when it’s in our rearview mirror do I press the accelerator.
Ice finally lets out a breath beside me.
“That was too close,” I murmur.
We drive in silence, the Welsh countryside rolling past in a blur of winter-bare trees and frost-covered fields. My adrenaline gradually ebbs, leaving me drained.
“You should eat.” Ice reaches into the paper bag to extract one of the pastries. He offers it to me first—another small gesture that reveals his protective instincts.
Unlike last night’s needlessly elaborate “princess” dinner, this fare is simple. Practical. The gesture feels more intimate for its lack of pretense.
Our fingers brush, and electric awareness jolts through me. Ice’s eyes flick to mine for a heartbeat, full of heat and raw hunger before he looks away.
I’m shaking as I bite into the pastry—some kind of apple-and-cinnamon concoction. Whether he means to or not, Ice is worming his way past my defenses. It would be so easy to lean on his strength, to give over the worries he seems willing to shoulder. The temptation is dangerously sweet—and grossly unfair to him.
“We need to decide where we’re going,” I say after finishing the last bite, brushing crumbs from my lap. “We can’t simply wander the Welsh countryside.”
“Swansea,” Ice states firmly.
“Why?”
“It’s home. No one will find you under my roof,” he vows, his expression turning to granite. “No one.”
I shake my head. “Then what? We need to reconnect with Duke and the rest of the Doomsday Brethren. Swansea takes us a hundred kilometers west, away from them.”
“If the Anarki can’t find you, they can’t hurt you. Nor can they find the book or your brother. It’s safer.”
From the perspective of an overprotective mate, yes. But newly mated wizards can be irrational. I haven’t spoken the Binding to him, but by Calling to me, Ice has declared himself mine—and now acts accordingly. I find it both troublesome…and touching.
“But it’s also isolated, and we can’t hide there indefinitely,” I argue, glancing at the backpack concealing the diary on the floorboard over my shoulder. The book is a constant reminder of what’s at stake. “Thomas MacKinnett lives in Ludlow, not terribly far from here. We can inform him of Mathias’s attack and plans and, through him, warn the rest of the Council.”
Ice’s expression grows more forbidding. “I worry far less about the Council than you.”
Despite my best efforts, his protective growl softens something inside me. “I’ve taken care of myself for decades now. I don’t suddenly need you to do it for me.”
