Where Winter Finds You

Once, just once, he’d like to be able to have the relationship flow in the other direction. In his way. He wanted to get some support and concern instead of constantly giving it.

But come on, how selfish was he? It wasn’t like Trez had volunteered for any of this crap, and blaming the male for reality was a douche move. Like when their souls had been bargaining to come down onto the planet for a life span, had Trez really looked over the Happy Days story line and decided, Naaaaah, I’d much rather be in the Takes a Licking section.

Of course he hadn’t. And iAm needed to be more supportive.

“I owe my brother an apology,” he said with defeat.

 

* * *

 

Sitting across from his female, Trez was scrambled in his head, but calm on the outside. At least he thought he was calm. No tapping heels, drumming fingers… or twitches of the eyebrows or mouth that he could tell.

So things were looking up. And hell, not only had there been a good ten or fifteen minutes since anybody outed a gun, there had also been a respite from people jumping out of windows. They kept this trend up, he might actually sleep through the day.

Yay.

“You don’t really live here, do you,” his female said as she continued to consume her one-Raisin-per-spoonful-Bran.

For a split second, he tried to configure a lie in his head. Something about moving in soon. Just having moved in. Trying the place out for moving in. But he was tired, and all that fiction building seemed like too much work. Besides, his female was smart, and it didn’t take a genius to notice the lack of personal effects.

Or the total non-clothes in the closet or bureau upstairs, if she checked.

“I mean”—she motioned around the kitchen and out into the living room with her spoon—“no personal effects, no photographs. No mess.”

Bingo.

And yet: “I’m pretty neat, though. Just ask my brother. He and I lived together for years.”

She stirred the milk around, the spoon seeking soggy flakes that refused to be corralled. “So this is the house you want me to rent, huh.”

“You do like it. You said so yourself.”

“And I already know how to take my clothes off in the bedroom.”

Trez felt a shot of lust go through him. That sight of her backside, her spine, her shoulders… with the tease that as soon as she turned around, he was going to get to see her breasts? He’d been on the verge of coming.

Except then the groceries arrived. Man, if he never heard another knock in his fucking life, it would be too soon.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she tilted her bowl and got more serious about navigating the end of the cereal. “I mean, I can—”

“I really want to have sex with you.”

Her eyes flipped to his, and instantly, the chemistry was back—and he welcomed the influx of arousal. He was not lying; he did want to be inside of her. But there was another piece to it. He needed the doubts and the fears and the grief that were simmering just below his surface to shut the fuck up. He didn’t want to think about his argument with iAm. He didn’t want to think about her in that club of idiots last night, some asshat with a gun and a hard-on for a woman who didn’t want him shooting shit up because his ego got kicked in the hey-nannies. And he didn’t want to think his female was so reckless as to fly-be-free from a second-story window.

And there were other things. Things he really, really couldn’t bear looking at.

The sex, however, would eclipse all that glare.

And sometimes shade was needed when the heat was on.

“Well, then,” she said as she got up and took her bowl to the sink. “Maybe we need to try again?”

Trez exhaled long and slow, and focused on those black slacks of hers, the white shirt, the hair that was so thick and curly and shiny as it ran down her shoulders.

“Yes,” he said with a growl. “Let’s do that.”

And so help him God, if anyone—or anything—interrupted them this time, he was going to solve that problem with a fist. Or maybe a crowbar.

Trez’s body got up out of the chair and went to her as if called, and the tension that had clawed into him left as if it had never been. As she reached for him, he reached for her, their mouths finding each other’s, the kiss as natural and easy as everything else had been bumpy and uneven only moments before. Licking into her, he savored the feel of her breasts against his chest, her hips under his hands, her mouth moving with his own. She was all that he needed, all that he knew, and he wanted to be here again. He wanted to never leave here.

This was his female. She was Selena, back unto him. No matter what iAm thought or said, or how crazy it was, or all the impossibles and the doubts, Trez only needed this connection to prove the reality that his heart already knew for sure.

Just as he started to pull her shirt out from her waistband, he noticed the window over the sink. With no shutters down, they were liable to flash the entire neighborhood—if not right here, then because he was about a second and a half away from laying her out on the table in front of that slider and putting his tongue in all kinds of places other than her mouth.

“Upstairs?” he said against her lips. “Before I—”

“Yes,” she moaned.

Breaking off the kiss, he took her hand and all but ran up the staircase. And as soon as they got to the top landing, he shut the stairwell’s door and killed the lights with his mind—and then he drew her over to the warm, flickering glow of the fireplace. Their mouths met again, and he eased her down on the soft rug, taking his time with the descent.

Or, rather, forcing himself to.

He wanted to tear her pants off with his fangs. Rip her panties down her thighs. Mount her like a beast. Then he wanted to flip her over and take her from behind. And after that? He wanted every position physically possible, all over the bedroom floor, the bed, the bathroom—

“Oh, shit.” He whipped his head around toward a cold draft that he hadn’t paid any attention to. “Sorry, let me go close that.”

Vampires could manipulate a lot of things with their minds, but not in a house that had been secured by Vishous. The Brother would have coppered the hell out of those puppies so that no one could use their mental powers to get in if the illusion shutters were up.

His female tugged at his shirt. “I’ll will it down—”

“It’s manual operation only.” He kissed her lips quick. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“You do not have to worry about that. Trust me.”

Springing to his feet, Trez tore off like there was a drowning victim in the damn tub. And as he slammed the sill back in place, all he could think of was getting back—

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror that ran across the wall above the two sinks. He stopped dead, even though he’d rather have just kept the fuck going—and not only because his female was waiting for him.

His eyes were too wide. His face was flushed and sallow at the same time. His breathing was way too heavy.

Trez hated everything about himself in that moment. And the only thing he despised more was his life. iAm was right. He was out of control, careening into something he didn’t have the emotional capacity for—

It’s fine, he mouthed to the image directly across from himself. I’m fine. We’re fine. It’s all fine.