Winter reached up and threaded his fingers through Fox’s sweaty hair, pushing it from his face and gently massaging his scalp. He couldn’t stop touching the man. Didn’t ever want to stop. “Marcus is the oldest, and his name means ‘warrior.’ She said she wanted to have many children and the oldest would always be the protector, so he needed a strong name.”
Fox hummed. “That makes sense.”
“I already told you Rafe and Beltran are twins.”
“Obviously not identical.”
“Just their sarcasm as far as I can tell.”
Fox snickered. “Rafe likes to be a pain in the ass, I think. Bel is sweet.”
“That is fair. Rafe was born first, and his name means ‘shield wolf.’ She wanted him to be a protector for his twin. Beltran means ‘bright raven.’ She said she took one look at Bel and knew that he was going to be brilliant. It’s fitting that he has a friend raven he calls Ozzie.”
“Is he? Smart, that is.”
Winter slid his hand down from Fox’s hair to his back. A happy hum of pleasure left Fox, and he relaxed even more. Winter kept rubbing down along his spine. “Bel is brilliant. Definitely our bright raven.”
Fox made a noise like a happy yawn. “And Winter? Does it mean something other than the season?”
“No.”
Fox tilted his head up and looked at him with sleepy eyes. “Then why?”
“I’m not sure what name she originally had picked out for me. I was born prematurely during one of the worst winters London had seen in a long time. I was small, and the doctor didn’t think I was going to make it. My mother stayed locked in her bedroom with me, allowing only her personal maid to come in to bring food and other necessities.”
“What about your brothers?”
Winter shook his head. “The other servants and tutors looked after them while Mother stayed locked up with me for nearly three months. When she finally left the room with me, winter was over, and the sun was shining. She said I’d beaten the brutality of winter and I should claim its name because I was stronger.”
Fox smiled and rubbed his face against Winter’s chest, pressing a kiss to his beating heart. “It’s true. You are stronger.” He paused and yawned again. “Stronger than everyone.”
Winter lay still with Fox on his chest, rubbing whatever parts of him he could reach and petting his hair, until the man fell asleep. He should have nudged Fox into his own bed, but he wasn’t ready to let him go. Instead, he carefully rolled Fox onto his back before slipping away to the bathroom. He ran the hot water, washed himself, and returned to the bedroom with a warm, damp rag and a towel. Fox didn’t stir beyond making a pleased humming noise in his throat as Winter carefully cleaned him off.
Winter tossed the washcloth and towel into the bathroom, crawled into bed, and settled the blankets around both of them. Sleep was slow in coming even though his body was blissfully relaxed. His mind was too awake.
He knew he should be turning over the stupid prophecy, but the thing didn’t seem so important now that he had the true wording of it. There was no question in his mind that Fox was the witch mentioned, but the rest of it? Disarm the Variks? That didn’t spell death and destruction in his book.
And the lost king? Damon was no king, lost or otherwise. He didn’t know what that part was referring to, but there was no proof that the prophecy was foretelling the end of the Variks.
But the problem was that Damon believed it. The bastard also believed Fox was going to make it all possible. That idea made Winter’s blood run cold. There was no way in hell he was going to let Damon get his hands on Fox again.
Every time he thought of something happening to Fox, a horrible weight pressed on his lungs and his mind spun. Cold chills flashed across his skin and he couldn’t breathe. Fox…Fox was quickly becoming so precious to him.
It was so much more than the special gift of removing his old curse. While he’d never be able to show his gratitude for it, the past week of living together had shown him Fox’s wonderful sense of humor, his innate sweetness, and a dark underlying insecurity about his own worth that tore at Winter’s heart. He was so damn special, and he just didn’t see it. It made Winter want to use his own body as a protective shell, to guard him against the world that tried to tear his sweet Fox apart.
Tonight might have answered some questions about the prophecy, but it had created far more about what he was going to do about his growing feelings for the man in his arms.
Chapter 18
Winter was slow to wake later that night. His sleep had been so very deep and restful. It felt like it had been his best sleep in decades. He didn’t want to stir from his comfortable bed and warm blankets. Turning on his side, he reached a hand out and slid it across the sheets. They were cool and empty…and that was wrong.