I’m suddenly a whole lot closer to them without having made any conscious decision about moving, thoughts of murder and mayhem blazing a trail through my brain.
I tamp them back, shove them down deep. And pretend to myself that I’m not tracking Flint’s every move like a predator about to strike his prey.
“Chill,” Mekhi tells me from his spot behind a tree several yards away. For the first time, I’m glad he and the others wouldn’t let me come out here alone. Ostensibly, it was for my own protection—that’s how they roll—but now I can’t help but wonder if it’s for everyone else’s as well.
Fuck. I close my eyes, run a hand over my face. When it comes to Grace, I need to get my shit together…and fast. Because the universe might have decreed that she’s my mate, but that doesn’t mean anything if she doesn’t agree. And Flint comes with a lot less baggage than I do—is it any wonder she’s laughing so easily with him?
I need to move back, to give them a little more room and maybe get this damn bloodlust under control.
But then the game is on, and Grace, Macy, and Flint are running into the trees on the other side of the clearing. I let them go, determined to watch from here. But since I apparently have no self-control when it comes to this girl, my resolution lasts about five seconds before I start making my way toward them stealthily—no reason to have to explain to anyone else what I’m doing out here when I’m not even sure myself.
I skirt around a group of witches who aren’t even bothering to make snowballs. Instead they’re firing streams of snow at one another in what looks to be a wholly ineffectual but amazingly fun exercise in futility. At least until a witch named Violet manages to pick up enough snow to leave her opponents buried in the stuff.
They screech as they try to burrow their way out, and I’m left grinning as I slide by unnoticed. Looks like the snow spelling wasn’t so ineffectual after all.
Grace is several trees in front of me now, making that arsenal of snowballs I suggested. She’s laughing, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard her do that since she got here. It’s a good sound, a happy sound, and I grin even though Dragon Boy is responsible for it. It’s nice to hear her happy.
I grab a tree branch and swing myself up the regular way. It’s fast and a lot more fun than using my telekinesis to levitate. And when I climb up a few more branches to the top of the tree, it gives me a hell of a view of the action.
Some of the wolves are still in the clearing, knocking the shit out of one another with one superpowered snowball after another. The witches are dropping snow and icicles from nearby tree branches on every person foolish enough to walk under one. And the dragons are stockpiling, staying out of the action for now as they hoard snowballs like they do their jewels down in the tunnels beneath the school. It’s definitely the most pragmatic approach—it won’t be long before they have enough of an arsenal to take down anyone who comes near them—but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t admire the witches’ approach the most. Ambushing anyone who walks by with a pile of snow on their head is both ingenious and fun as hell to watch.
A nearby shriek in a familiar voice has me focusing on Grace with laser-like precision. And grinning like a fool as she tries desperately to wipe away a face full of snow. At least until Flint reaches over and helps her clear out her scarf, his hands suddenly way too close to the petal-soft skin of her cheeks. The same skin I’ve been dreaming about touching ever since she cupped my jaw with her hand.
And when she looks up at him with a laugh and a toss of her curls—hot-pink hat definitely included—a low growl that I have no control over emanates from my throat. Even before Flint hands her that fucking dragon hat and helps her fill it with snowballs.
The growl only gets worse when he actually puts his hands on her, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder like she belongs there. And when he wraps an arm around her upper thighs to hold her in place, I swear I can feel his jugular beneath my fangs.
If he drops her, if he harms so much as one hair on her head, I’m going to fucking kill him. And if he doesn’t…I just might kill him anyway. Especially if he doesn’t get his hands off her in the next five seconds.
Relief shimmers through me as he deposits Grace safely on one of the lower branches, and I take my first real breath in what feels like hours.
Then I settle back to enjoy the show as Grace pelts everyone who walks by with snowball after snowball. She’s got remarkably good form for someone who’s never had a snowball fight before.