Page 40 of Sienna Rossi: Beyond Shattered Trust

When we come out of it, dizzy and breathless, he gives me that sly smile, the one that tells me he’s about to do something stupidly ambitious.

“Ahren,” I warn, suspicious as he motions me to move back. I listen, skating backwards anyway, trusting him. He glides towards me, gripping my waist, and lifts me. It’s not some perfect, polished competition move, but his hold is steady. My feet leave the ice, and I let out a surprised yelp. For a second, I feel weightless, everything a blur.

He sets me down smoothly, far smoother than I expected, and gives me a mock bow.

“I’m impressed,” I say.

“We are reckless,” he sighs, making me burst into full-on laughter, bending forward, hands on my knees.

“We are insane,” I agree between giggles.

He’s smirking, his eyes bright in a way I haven’t seen in a while. And just like that, we take off again, racing each other down the makeshift rink, throwing in little jumps and sharp turns like we did when we were kids, pretending we were showing off for an imaginary crowd. I build speed, push harder, and swing into another spin, this one faster, tighter. I pull my arms in, blade biting cleanly into the ice as the world blurs into streaks of white.

I’m laughing while I spin, dizzy and fearless, when I spot a figure not too far in front of me. He’s wearing a fur coat, arms crossed.

Jayce.

My stomach somersaults in a way that has nothing to do with skating, and my focus shatters. My balance wobbles and then I spiral out of control, and I hear myself let out a startled half-laugh, half-yelp as the ice blade of my boot gives way, and I tumble forward.

Everything happens too fast. One minute I’m upright, the next the world is tilting as I’m careening towards him. I stumble out of the spin, momentum carrying me straight toward him. I brace for the fall, but instead I collide into a warm, broad chest.

His scent envelops me; his arms catch me firmly around the waist, while my surviving skate scrapes against the ice as he steadies me, and pleasure jolts through me, rushing straight to my core.

I look up at him slowly, my eyes wide, breathless, heart racing for an entirely different reason now, and when I hear the small puff from behind me, I realise Ahren’s left me alone with Jayce.

Oh gods.

A Dream

Jayce

Iarch a brow as I look down at her; her red curls are dusted with snow, the tip of her nose red, and her cheeks flushed pink, and yet the smile on her face lacks the pain she once used to carry.

“Of all the things I thought I’d see in the Siberian Wastelands, it was not figure skating,” I remark coolly. She smiles slightly. “Don’t fall,” I add before I let go of her.

She whispers a spell, and she’s gotten rid of the blades at the bottom of her shoes.

“Thanks,” she says, tucking a curl behind one of her ears, only for the wind to blow it right into her face again.

“Hmm.” I don’t look at her, but instead at the spot Ahren, the asshole, disappeared from seconds ago. “I came to talk to your brother.”

“I assumed as much. Was it something important?” she asks.

I’m about to say none of your business, but then I remember the conversation she had with Uncle Alejandro earlier.

‘I hated what he did, how he tricked me, how he took advantage of my pain… He doesn’t understand love. I feel as if he hated that more than the Deimos line, because those of the Deimos line love so deeply that even the gods burn.’

Those words replay in my mind, and I want to ask what it would take for her to fucking hate me. What would it take for her to stop looking at me like she still fucking loves me – even if she does.

“Nothing you can help me with,” I answer, knowing I took far too long to answer.

She observes me curiously before she slowly nods. “Ok, I can mind-link him to tell him you wanted to speak to him?”

“No need,” I say, stepping back. I half-turn when she grabs hold of my coat.

“Jayce…”

My eyes flash as I look back at her. “What?” I ask callously, hating the tension that settles between us as I pull free from her hold.