Enthralled: Paranormal Diversions (Wicked Lovely 5.50)

I couldn’t be here if he hadn’t surrendered his immortality to save me.

He is mortal, but he is here with me.

“If you’re never fey again, I’ll still be happy because we are together now.” She walked toward him, her bare feet leaving the first marks on the freshly fallen snow.

“Let me try to be fey,” Keenan pleaded. “Let me be a true part of Winter. Let us have forever.”

The wind swirled faster and whiter all around them as Donia lowered herself to the snowy ground in front of him. “What if I lose you?”

“If I stay mortal, you will lose me. Mortality means I’ll die.” He came to his knees so that they were kneeling, facing each other. “We can have eternity, Don.”

“You don’t know how it hurts, Keenan. How do I agree, knowing what that pain feels like? How do I agree, knowing it could kill you?”

“I won’t do it if you say no, but I believe it’ll work.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t want you to have to hold yourself back from me. I don’t want to be a weakness, but someone who can be fully in your life. I want you, all of you, forever.”

Instead of answering, she drew a wall of snow toward them and shaped it into an igloo. Outside, she let the storm rage. She felt it: snow spiraling wildly in the air, the icy wind she’d released con

tinuing to shriek, and ice coating the trees. Inside the snowy shelter she’d built, she had no need to release any more cold. She’d let it loose outside, and now she was able to free Keenan of those layers of clothes and celebrate their first winter together.

Late that night, Sasha crept inside the igloo, plopped down beside them, and nudged them with his head. The wolf didn’t speak—as far as Keenan knew, he’d never spoken—but the nudge was message enough.

Donia stood and stretched. “Time to go back.”

After Keenan dressed, Donia exhaled and scattered their shelter; the snow that had only a breath ago been a building now joined the rest of the snow spread over the ground. She smiled as she looked around them. The moon was high in the sky, and the perfect snowfall all around them gleamed in the clear white light.

“Beautiful.”

“It is,” she agreed.

Keenan laughed. “I meant you, but the snow is lovely too.”

Beside them, Sasha butted Donia with his head again, and a prickle of alarm went through Keenan. He looked to the open expanse of the snow-covered ski slope, but no tracks marred the white ground. He attempted to see farther into the woods, but his human vision revealed nothing.

She is the Winter Queen. In her element. At her strength.

The mental reminders didn’t allay his fears. Sasha wouldn’t hurry them on without reason.

Absently, Keenan lowered one hand to the wolf ’s head— and was rewarded with a gentle nip. He looked down as Sasha tugged on his hand.

“Don?”

“I don’t see any threat.” Donia answered the question without his needing to voice it. She understood Sasha more than anyone else ever had. He’d been her companion for years, and he’d chosen to stay with her when she became Winter Queen.

Sasha growled.

“We’re coming,” Donia assured him as she took Keenan’s hand in hers and they began to run back to the hotel.

Nothing pursued them, and no danger greeted them when they arrived. Keenan told himself that he was simply too used to there being threats, that he was worrying about his mortal strength being insufficient to protect her, that he was being foolish. None of that eased his mind, but he had no way to ask the wolf what had prompted his behavior.

The following morning, they checked out and were walking across the hotel parking lot when they were stopped by Cwenhild.

The head of the Winter Guard bowed her head to Donia. “My Queen.” Then, she frowned at him. “Keenan.”

He nodded in reply, but said nothing yet. The cadaverous Scrimshaw Sister still reminded him of other Scrimshaw Sisters who’d drifted through his long-ago childhood home protecting him from the world even as their mien terrified him. An angry Scrimshaw Sister was a gorgeous terror, and like the rest of the Scrimshaw Sisters in the Winter Court, Cwenhild was one of Donia’s guards. Seeing her waiting was not comforting. However, she looked irritated rather than alarmed. After a lifetime of needing to assess situations quickly, he relegated this to the “not life threatening” category—which meant the interruption was unwelcome. Moreover, the stern look on her face pricked Keenan’s temper. He might not be a king, or even a faery, anymore, but centuries of ruling didn’t predispose him to responding well to censure.

“Is anyone dead?” Donia asked.

“No,” Cwenhild said.