He presses his lips to mine. They’re cold. So are mine. Our tongues are hot.
“We all made sacrifices along the way, but you were the one chosen to stop her. And you did it. I’m proud of you.”
Before I can speak I hear laughter, the sound of a group of girls walking down the path. Their voices turn to a whisper and I look up to see them glancing over at us—well, really, at Sam.
When they see us looking they pick up the pace and race through the snow, across the park.
“They think you’re cute.”
He smiles. Adorably. “Jealous?”
“Should I be?”
“Only one girl has my heart.” He grabs the front of my coat and pulls me to him.
“Is it weird, that five of you have mine?”
“Not for a minute.” He lifts his palms to my cheeks and they’re oddly warm against my cool skin. “This is who we are, Morgan. Why we were made and who we will be for an eternity. The gods blessed us with the sole job of loving and protecting you.”
Snowflakes fall and one lands in his eyelash. I wipe it away. “You’re really good at that, you know.”
“At what?”
“Charming me.”
He smiles. “Well, you know the other part of it…”
“What’s that?”
“That you’re way too much for one man to handle. The gods knew this and had to send reinforcements.” His lips quirk teasingly.
I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on to him. I snuggle in the crook of his neck and say, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
I kiss the tender flesh of his throat. “For being you.”
Because he’s relaxed, he’s also unaware. I take the snowball still in my hand and crash it over his head. Ice explodes and he shouts in surprise.
“You didn’t.”
I shrug, but the glint in his eye changes to something mischievous and I turn on my heel, running for cover just as a barrage of snowballs comes my way.
I run, but I don’t really hide.
I’ve never wanted to be found so much.
It’s after midnight when I make my way into the kitchen. Sue has long gone to bed but there’s half a chocolate cake on the counter left over from dinner. I hold the knife over the cake and start to cut a wedge. What the hell? I move it over half an inch. What the hell. I take the whole thing.
I really like chocolate cake.
Setting the plate on the table I move to the refrigerator, looking for milk. Swinging the door open, I spot the carton.
Fuck.
It’s Dylan’s milk.
It says so in black Sharpie. I scan the rest of the shelves. Nope. Nope. Nope. No other milk.