Jennifer Estep - Tangled Threads

Well, I was glad I wasn’t the only one who thought so, although I wasn’t sure if I wanted Owen taking relationship advice from his kid sister, who wasn’t even old enough to legally drink.

The two of them strung some more icicles on the tree for a minute before Owen spoke again.

“I like Gin,” he said. “More than I’ve liked anyone in a long time. That’s why I gave her the key. Because I wanted to. Because I want her to stick around.”

Eva looked at her big brother. “I know. Just remember that Gin’s not like anyone else you’ve ever dated. She’s not going to act the same as the bimbos, who would have started moving their stuff in and picking out wedding dresses the second you gave them a key.”

Owen’s eyes narrowed, but a grin spread across his face, softening his chiseled features. “When did you get so smart?”

Eva grinned back at him. “Big brother, I’ve always been smart. You just failed to recognize my brilliance until now.”

Owen grumbled something else under his breath and threw another wad of icicles at Eva. She laughed, dug into her box, and retaliated with her own handful. And the fight was on. The two of them slung gobs of icicles at each other, until the air sparked and flashed with the thin, silver ribbons.

I leaned against the doorway and watched them shriek, laugh, and duck around furniture as they staged their mock battle. Eva and Owen loved each other the way two siblings should. The way I loved Finn. They had the kind of easy relationship I wanted to have with my own sister. With Bria.

Too bad Bria was a detective with the Ashland Police Department. One who wanted to track down the Spider and bring her to justice for killing Elliot Slater and the rest of Mab Monroe’s minions that I’d dispatched in the last few weeks.

But I wasn’t here to dwell on that complicated relationship, my war with Mab, or the fact that LaFleur was in town and gunning for me. All that mattered was tonight, and this brief happy moment with the Graysons. I hadn’t had many of those in my life, and I knew enough to appreciate them. To grab and hold on to and enjoy these precious moments as long as I could.

So I drew in a breath and stepped into the living room, letting the two of them see me. Eva spotted me first.

“Gin!” Eva shouted, ducking another wad of icicles. “You made it!”

Owen’s head turned in my direction, giving Eva the opening that she needed to leap up onto the sofa and dump the rest of her box of icicles on top of her big brother’s head.

“Ha!” she shouted in triumph. “I win!”

Owen glowered at his sister, before turning and giving me a sheepish grin. With the icicles streaming down his body, he looked like a tinfoil yeti.

I raised an eyebrow. “Sexy. Dead sexy.”

Owen grinned at me through the sparkling silver strings. “I do try.”

For the next hour, I helped Owen and Eva pick up wayward icicles and put them on the tree. When we finished, Eva announced that she was giving us some private time and headed off to bed.

“Sorry about the mess,” Owen said, bending down to pick a stray icicle off the rug. “I didn’t mean for you to have to clean up after us.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “I had fun helping you guys.”

Surprisingly, I wasn’t lying. It had been fun doing something so simple, so normal. Something that Fletcher Lane would have considered to be living in the daylight , his words for having a regular life. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a Christmas tree, much less decorated one. The old man hadn’t much cared for the holiday, and Finn had always been more interested in the presents underneath the tree than what it looked like. In addition to helping me with certain things, my foster brother was also an investment banker. Finn was all about money and the shiny things you could buy with it.

While Owen salvaged a few more icicles, I wandered through the living room, staring at the decorations, enjoying the mix of red and green, gold and silver. The gleam of glass on a table caught my eye, and I picked up a large snow globe. A charming Christmas scene of a family gathered around a fireplace lay underneath the smooth, curved surface. I shook the globe. White flakes drifted up before sinking to the bottom once more. Such a small, simple thing, but it made my heart twist all the same.

My mother, Eira Snow, had collected snow globes. She had dozens of them, and I remembered running from one end of the fireplace mantel to the other, trying to make the snow swirl in the last one before the flakes in the first one settled back down. A game that I’d played with Bria when we were kids.

Bria seemed to have the same fascination with the globes as our mother. I’d seen boxes full of them the night that I’d broken into Bria’s house and kept Elliot Slater and the rest of his giant goons from killing her. A few weeks ago, when Bria had first come back to Ashland, Mab Monroe had sent her giant enforcer to murder my sister. Mab had thought that Bria was a threat to her. That Bria was the Snow sister who had both Ice and Stone magic.

Mab had thought that Bria was the one who was going to kill her.

Once upon a time, an Air elemental who could see the future had told Mab that a member of the Snow family, someone who could wield both Ice and Stone magic, would kill her one day. Rather than let that happen, Mab had decided to make her own preemptive strike.

That’s why she’d come to my house all those years ago. That’s why she’d killed my mother and my older sister, Annabella. That’s why she’d tortured me, first by duct-taping the spider rune medallion that I wore as a necklace between my palms. When I hadn’t told Mab where Bria was, Mab had used her Fire magic to superheat the silverstone metal until it melted into my palms — forever marking me. Branding me as the Spider in more ways than one.

The Fire elemental just hadn’t realized that I was the one that she’d really wanted to eliminate that night. That I was the real threat to her, not Bria. That I was the one with both Ice and Stone magic — magic that I was going to use to kill Mab.

The prophecy, Mab’s actions, the fact that I’d survived anyway — it was all very tragic and somewhat Greek. Or maybe I thought that only because I’d just finished up a classic literature course over at Ashland Community College. We’d read tales of Oedipus and The Odyssey , among other things. Sometimes, I wondered if Mab and I were like two ancient Greek combatants, locked in this epic struggle, each move we made to prevent our tragic fates instead actually bringing us closer to our final, deadly confrontation.

Owen moved to stand beside me. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

I put the snow globe down on the table, turned to him, and looped my arms around his neck. I tilted up my head, and my gaze traced over Owen’s features. The white scar that cut across his chin, firm lips, slightly crooked nose, and finally up to his eyes.

As always, I looked deep into his violet gaze, losing myself in the pale, amethyst color, searching for a sign, a hint, a flash of feeling that would tell me that he’d finally wised up and decided to end things with me. That Owen saw how dark and twisted I really was deep down and that it finally, ultimately, disgusted him, the way that it had Donovan Caine, the man I’d been involved with before Owen came along.

As always, I saw nothing. No fear, no condemnation, no disgust. Only acceptance.

Owen put his hands around my waist and drew me into the warm embrace of his arms. His hands moved up my back, massaging my tight muscles, before sliding down to the curve of my ass and pulling me against him, so that I could feel every hard inch of him rubbing against the junction of my thighs, even through the thick fabric of my jeans.