Page 156 of Tracking Snow

"Their names were Caroline and Matthew."

Two’s purple eyes hold mine. "Your mother worked at a bakery. Your father repaired heating systems. I also found this." He slides out another photo from the last page. A picture of Rosie. It’s an official picture like for an ID, but I clutch it tight to my chest.

My magic came home. Rosie returned in memories. Now I have names and faces for the people who loved me first.

I grab the front of his hoodie and haul him in for a kiss. He scoops up the file and puts it safely on the vanity.

I rise and kiss him.

Two freezes for half a heartbeat before his hand closes around the back of my neck. He kisses me with a slow drag of his mouth, lingering over every meeting of our lips. I lean into him, and he brings me to my feet before guiding me back into the vanity.

Bottles and makeup brushes rattle.

His tongue slides over mine as his hands move down my waist. The kiss deepens, bringing heat to every place grief hollowed out.

I grip his hoodie and drag it over his head.

Two’s eyes flash purple when the fabric clears his face.

Then they turn black. Seven.

His shoulders draw wider. His chest seems to expand beneath my hands, every muscle carrying more weight. The man crowding me to the vanity feels bigger than the one I kissed a second ago. Stronger. Hungry enough to swallow every inch of space between us.

"Seven," I breathe.

His hand fists in my hair and he takes my mouth.

The force of his kiss bends me backward over the vanity. One hand grips my hip and lifts me onto the counter, scattering makeup across the floor. I wrap my legs around him and draw him in between my thighs.

Seven growls into my mouth then kisses down my throat and bites the place where my pulse pounds. My nails rake across his shoulders, dragging him closer as his hand slides beneath my shirt.

"You have no idea how good it is to be here, in the flesh, with you."

His thumb brushes the bottom of my bra. My whole body arches into him. "I got a pretty good idea," I say breathlessly.

Seven pulls away enough to look at me. Black eyes burn into mine. "I’m going to drag you to the apartment, and we are going to make you scream seven ways from Sunday, but I want you to show me first."

My brain sticks on the seven ways from Sunday and how literal that is with him. And he said we, so it’s clearly going to be a group effort. And I just know it will be followed up with sweet dreams with Three and pancakes with Five in the morning.

"Show you what?" I ask breathlessly.

He dips his head, a dark, dangerous gleam in his eye. "Your magic."

At first, I don’t understand, and then..."Oh!"

I grab an eyeliner pencil from the vanity, pinch it loosely between my fingers, and wobble it until it looks like it’s bending.

"Look. Rubber."

Seven goes utterly still.

Then his hips press harder into me.

"You like that?" I ask, delighted.

A rough sound rolls out of his chest.

"That’s so fucking stupid," he growls, dragging me closer. "Do it again."