Dead of Winter (The Arcana Chronicles #3)(59)

Aric bit out, “You are.”

“—and that the two of them demand order.”

Headlights glared through the windows. Jack glanced past a curtain then back at me. “It’s them. Before I leave out, I’ll get you settled in a room.” He clasped my hand, leading me up the stairs. Over his shoulder, he enunciated to Aric, “Get her settled upstairs in a room—to herself.”

On the second floor, Jack headed toward a back bedroom. Blue walls with race-car wallpaper. “You stay in here with the door locked till I get back. Try to get some rest.”

“This is so important that you’ll let me stay here with Aric?”

“J’ai les mains amarrées.” My hands are tied. “You can’t imagine what’s on the line. Short of this, I’d never leave you. I trust you, but him? I put nothing past that Reaper.”

“I’m nervous about you going alone.”

“Tracasse-toi pas pour moi.” Don’t worry about me. “Are you goan to be safe here with him?”

I removed my pack and coat, tossing them on the bed. “You saw how he fights.”

“No, I mean safe from him. He woan try to steal you away?”

“He can’t, and he won’t. Remember what I did to the plague colony?” How could we ever forget?

Jack exhaled. “Promise me you woan let him guilt you into anything. It’s goan to be you and me, Evie. Just . . . just doan give me anything else to hurt on.”

In other words, don’t get with Aric. “I haven’t made any decisions. And until I do, I’m not doing anything—with anybody.”

“You mean that bastard’s still in the running?” Jack swiped his palm over his face. “I ain’t hearing this.”

“I can’t deny that I have a history with him.” And an Arcana connection.

The truck driver laid on the horn. No concern about attracting Bagmen?

“I got to go. But we will finish this later.” With a wince, Jack shrugged from his bug-out bag. He placed his bow on the bed and removed the guns from his holster. At least he still had his vest on. “Keep this transceiver.” He handed me the two-way radio. “I’ll take another one, so you can call me for any reason.”

I clipped it to my jeans pocket. “Reviens back sain et sauve. T’entends?” Come back safe to me. You hear me?

My use of French made his brows draw together. As if he couldn’t help himself, he gripped my nape and kissed me. Short. Heated.

He drew back just before I broke away. “Doan want to leave you. After tonight, I doan plan to ever again.” As he left the room, he murmured, “Nothing to hurt on, bébé.”

When Jack reached the first floor, I heard Aric say, “Rest assured, mortal. I’ll keep her safeguarded—and warm.”

“My gun. Your skull. Think about it.” The front door opened. Closed.

I locked myself in, then crossed to the window. An army convoy truck awaited. Two guys with machine guns hung off the sides, outriders ready to blow away anything that neared.

What was Jack heading into? Shoulders back, he strode past the array of bodies. With exaggerated movements, he opened one side of his jacket, then the other. To show them he was weaponless?

As he climbed into the cab, he gazed up at the window, giving me a chin jerk in farewell. I kept the truck in sight until the fog swallowed the taillights.

How could I not worry? Add it to my ongoing apprehension about Selena and Matthew. I fought the urge to reach out to him, to check on him. But if Matthew needed a break from me, I’d respect that.

I unzipped my pack and pulled out my sleeping bag, unrolling it against the wall. I’d just wondered what Aric was up to when he called from downstairs.

“Come to me, Empress.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “Why fight temptation?”

Curiosity seized me. But joining him would be a mistake. When he turned on his charm, he was seduction personified. The last time I’d been alone with him, he’d touched me with reverence, murmuring, This is joy I feel, is it not?

I called back, “Going to sleep.”

“Hmm. Your loss . . .”

I exhaled a huff of breath. Damn it.





29


Aric waited at the foot of the stairs, broad shoulders back, blond hair drying. The golden stubble on his chiseled jawline glinted in the firelight.

Too gorgeous for his own good.

“We’re in a house with electricity and food. If you don’t take advantage of all its offerings, someone less worthy will.” He had his helmet under one arm and a leather saddlebag slung over a shoulder. His version of a bug-out bag. What would a man like him pack?

With my own bag in hand, I joined him. “What do you suggest?”

“You could have a hot meal. Come, sievā, unless you eat more, you can’t continue to ride as you have been.”

The idea of downing another energy bar made me queasy. The pantry here had been stocked.

“Afterward, you could have a long, hot shower.” When I faltered, Aric pulled off his gauntlets and reached for me. He laid a bare hand on my lower back, ushering me into the kitchen. Before he released me, his fingertips dug in a little, as if he battled with himself to let me go.

“We should prepare a feast.” He placed his helmet, swords, and gauntlets on a counter, his bag on the floor.