Vi nods, clutching Zinnia’s hand, her shocked gaze never leaving the sprites as she lets Zinnia guide her toward the glass doors leading to the sweeping balcony. Nick, who knows everything about our family, thanks to his long gabfests with Zinnia, quickly whips up a martini for my aunt and rushes to follow.
Eclipsa begins some sort of spell to calm the sprites. While she and Sebastian circle the battling creatures, Mack drags me down the hall.
“Sorry this turned into such a shitshow,” she says. “But I stashed a couple cans of emergency frosting in my room.”
From the other end of the corridor, Sebastian screams, “Not the Neiman Marcus drapes!”
As soon as I cross into her room, my jaw goes slack. “Holy Fae ears, your lady-cave is bigger than our entire house in Texas.”
Whispers: Interactive StoriesMake your own choices and decide what happens next!
She waltzes across the floor, flips on some music, and says in Gaelic, “Mo taigh, do taigh.”
My house, your house.
The space is an open concept, with a zebra printed leather loveseat, curtained off reading nook, bathroom with a claw-footed tub, and a mini-fridge stocked full of Mountain Dew and orange Fanta. Her sprawling king-sized bed rests above on the loft, the railing decorated with flashing Faerie lights.
A skylight paints the hardwood floor in golden light, and neon orange and teal butterflies dive in the sunbeam like giant dust motes, their magic impossible to ignore. A slight breeze ruffles white lace curtains framing the open balcony door.
A floor-to-ceiling mirror hangs to my right. My reflection catches me off guard, and I briefly inspect the woman staring back.
My thick, wavy blonde hair is pulled into a high ponytail, streaks of sun-bleached platinum catching the light. Long, lean arms tanned from my daily runs give me a surfer girl vibe. The only makeup I wear is a thick sweep of eyeliner that makes my hazel eyes—more gold than green at the moment—appear larger than normal.
I spin, taking it all in. Myself. The room. The buttery light from the bajillion windows. “I don’t see how you ever leave this room.”
Mack’s grin is practically blinding. “I didn’t bring you here to talk about my room. And I have something waiting for you that’s even better than eating frosting by the spoonful.”
I snort. “Wrong. There’s literally nothing better than—”
That’s when I feel it. Feel him. Like a shock of electricity straight to my core.
Valerian.
The Winter Prince is leaned against the stone balcony railing, looking panty-dropping gorgeous in a fitted black tee and dark skinny-jeans. Despite the summer heat, snowflakes swirl around him. The wind tousles his wavy inky-blue hair to one side, showing off its thickness, and I immediately imagine running my fingers through it.
His lips tug into a smirk.
Dammit. So much better than frosting.
My belly tightens as his dark gaze drops to the tight curve of my black athletic pants. He drinks me in, slowly, and I find myself drawn into his icy orbit. Pulled along by some stupid, invisible thread that grows stronger by the day.
Double dammit.
“Have fun with the ILB,” Mack teases, the psycho, before she busies herself in her bathroom.
ILB: Instant lady boner. Our favorite nickname for the Winter Prince. Since we can’t say his name aloud, and we chat about him a lot, he’s developed quite a few nicknames and acronyms.
SOAS: Sex on a stick. PESG: Pointy-eared sex god. FBD: Future baby daddy. Mack gets all the credit for that last one.
His dark stare draws me from my thoughts, and I peer at him behind my lashes, surprised by the intense swirl of emotions raging inside me.
Just like Mack, I haven’t seen Valerian for weeks. I thought, or maybe hoped, having him out of my life would lessen the attraction between us. He spent the last month hunting down the Fae responsible for nearly killing him in the Wild Hunt. Cal was a dead end.
Whoever Cal reports to, he’s been spelled with powerful magic not to tell.
Not that Valerian didn’t torture him anyway, just to be sure.
The phone Valerian sent me to keep in touch buzzes in my pocket. Grinning, I pull the iPhone out and stare at the message.
Valerian’s gorgeous face peers from my phone, along with the words, Happy birthday, Princess.