The Naughty List (15 page)

Now, my love, come to me. Fulfill your promise.

* * *

“Beer me,” Byron said, staring at the well-worn photo of Etina and himself on the slopes of the ski run. It was folded and faded from years of being carried around in his wallet but remained his most prized possession.
I should just get rid of this. All I do is spend every night mooning over her picture.

The bartender grunted and poured another pint of the house special before returning his attention to the daily news on TV. Christmas Eve and he was hunkered down in a bar like a loser.
Alone. Again.
He took a swing of the brew, letting the numbing cold sluice down his throat to help bury his misery.
Why am I pining over a girl that’s moved on? What the hell is wrong with me?

“…this year’s snow pack at the pass is one of the best on record. A spokesmen for the Snoqualmie Pass ski lodge says they expect to see a full crowd for the winter festivities slated for tomorrow. Anyone wishing to ski can expect plenty of company on the slopes.”

A perfect ski season and I’m stuck here.
He looked up just as the camera panned across the front of the lodge, showing the lines of people waiting their turn for the lift.

“…and people from all over the world are here.” The newscaster pointed to a tour bus, disgorging passengers in their puffy jackets and wool-knit caps. In the background, a fair-skinned girl with blonde hair and pale blue eyes scanned the crowds, her lips pursed in disappointment.

Etina.

The stool skidded across the wood floor as he stood up and rushed out the door.

* * *

The bus wheezed to a stop with a shudder. The lodge lay under a blanket of snow and lifts carried holiday revelers up to the slopes, lines stretching a good way despite it being Christmas day.

Arms wrapped around him and a familiar chill penetrated his heavy jacket as Etina’s pine scent tickled his nose. “Hello, Byron. I knew you would come.”

His heart fluttered as he stared down at the pale hands clasped to his stomach. “Etina?”

She turned him to face her. “You’re late.”

He gazed down at her. She hadn’t changed a bit in eight years. “And you’re as beautiful as ever.”

“You smell of drink. A shower and new clothing is in order.”

“I can’t afford a room at the lodge. Maybe we can find someplace else?”

She produced a key card from her pocket. “I’ve taken care of that.”

* * *

Back in the room, her skin was cool against him as she tore away his clothing and pressed against his back. Her nimble fingers danced and pulled and tugged, bringing him to rock hard attention in seconds.

He moaned at the sensation that raced along his cock as she stroked him.

She nudged him with her hips. “It’s been a long time.”

“Oh god, you’re beautiful.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and she climbed on top of him. Her hands pulled him close, her coolness encompassing him like a familiar friend. His mouth found hers.

Etina pushed him to the mattress, wriggling her way up him, until her pussy brushed against his cock. She guided him with her hand, then engulfed him with one smooth stroke.

He stared up at the long blonde hair flowing across her shoulders, her pale blue eyes glimmering with desire and he knew he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted her right that moment. Her fingers dug into his chest as he moved inside her. She was, as he’d remembered; cool, slick, and perfect.

Byron rubbed his thumbs across her stiff nipples. She moaned and rocked back and forth then pitched forward, tugging at his lips with a gentle pull of her teeth as her muscles convulsed around his cock.

Goose bumps rose up on his skin and he shivered as cool air washed over him. A glance confirmed the window closed, but the curtains were open.

“Don’t worry, my love. You’re safe here,” Etina whispered into his ear.

Safe from what?
Byron gasped as she slid off him, exposing his engorged cock to the cold air. Her tongue flicked across its head.

“Take me from behind, Byron.” She bounced on the bed, wriggling her ass toward him. Her lips glistened with invitation.

He pushed two fingers into her, hooking them down to caress the ridges of her pussy. She moaned and pushed back, fingers clenching the bedspread.
She’s more than ready.
Byron licked his fingers, savoring the sweet drops that trickled down them.

“Now,” she growled. “Like you did the first time.”

He buried himself with a single thrust. A squeal of delight escaped her lips as she tucked her head down. The cool sensation pulled at him, driving him to increase his pace. His hands moved her hips back and forth, while the muscles in his stomach ached from his effort to stave off the inevitable a bit longer.

“Yes, by the queen’s grace, yes! Come in me!”

The climax blurred his vision, as his cock twitched and twitched again, shooting cum into her for what seemed like an eternity.

* * *

Byron tossed his jacket on the coat rack, along with his gloves and cap. “I love winter. It’s the best season of the year.”

“It’s always winter where I live,” Etina said.

“Do you stay with Santa at the North Pole?”

“I don’t know this Santa, but no, not your North Pole.” She gestured out the window to the snowy mountainside. “Not unlike those.”

“I’d like to live in a place that’s winter all the time.”

“Do you trust me, Byron? Would you like to see my home?” Etina whispered to him. Her eyes stared into his, filling his vision. Where his irises’ were brown, Etina’s looked like swirling clouds of snow and ice.

“Yes.”

She became taller and thinner as her skin faded, becoming almost translucent with a hint of pale blue. Her blonde hair faded to pure white, her nose and cheekbones took on a sharper, more angular cast, and flakes of snow drifted off her body with even the smallest of movements.

He shivered at the drop in temperature as it sucked the warmth from his body.

“As it was agreed, so it shall be.” Etina gripped his arm and touched the dresser mirror with a finger. Frost crackled around the frame, followed by thorns of ice. She smiled and pulled him into the reflected winter scene.

The shock of cold took his breath away, as if he’d been dunked into a lake in the middle of winter. Blood pounded in his ears as sound vanished into the void. Etina vanished, her fingers slipping from his grasp. He gasped, moving his lips, but no words came out. It was a moment of suspension, as if time has stopped just for him. Panic tickled the back of his mind.
What the hell did I agree to?

* * *

“Here we are,” Etina whispered into his ear as an explosion of light and thorns shredded the darkness. The rush of magic returned to her the strength sapped by the long years of wait.

“Where is here?” Byron’s voice quavered with fear and cold.

She smiled and spread her arms. “Welcome to the Winter Realm. You are my guest and may partake of my hearth as long as you wish to remain and abide by the rules.”

Around her, mountains jutted into the sky, their summits concealed by a blanket of clouds. Snow drifted in the air, occasionally stirred by a quick breeze, before settling to the ground. A vast plain spread out in the distance with the sun creaking through the overcast. Its light reflected off something that glittered in a rainbow of colors.

“I don’t fucking understand.” He shook violently. “And I need my jacket.”

“Look at me,” she commanded and brushed a finger across his brow. She could feel the raw panic bubbling away inside him. “I offer you protection in exchange for a token.”

“What?”

“A gift. Quickly or this will be for naught.”

“Um… you’re not human…” He blinked at her as if she’d just appeared and shook his head. “Wait, I got it!” Byron pulled out his wallet and produced the tattered picture of them. “Will this do?”

She snapped it from his grasp, her body shimmered to match the image of the pretty blond in the photo. The token glowed with devotion and affection. It reflected his want deep into her being. “This is perfect,” she crooned and stuffed it in her mouth. The paper dissolved like spun sugar, leaving a sticky and salty aftertaste as it slid down her throat.

The numbing cold ceased and was replaced with something else; an acceptance. He belonged here.

“Our sister has brought a new toy for us to play with,” gurgled Vergla as she heaved and heaped out from behind a tree. She left a trail of slushy snow in her wake, as her half melted body shed bits, only to have them reform in the next instant.

“Break him!” hissed Glisser, clawing her way out of a snow drift in a scarecrow-like form of ice and edges. Pale blue sparks of Saint Elmo’s fire wreathed her bulbous head

“Sisters!” Etina’s voice thundered like the sound of a thousand avalanches. “Leave him be or suffer my wrath like you’ve never known! Byron is mine and I will not give him up to the mortal world again.”

“Then you will fight for him!” The two hags screamed and launched themselves toward her just as a sharp crack echoed through the forest.

“Avalanche!” Byron yelled as the wall of white swept him from her view.

“No!”

Glisser’s nails raked across her face, slicing and flaying as they passed, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. “With his death, we will claim your power. What has been rightfully ours, little sister.”

Vergla engulfed her legs, yanking into a mire of wet snow. “Give him up and your passing will be quick.”

A bony hand thrust Etina’s head under the snow. The soggy mass fought to invade her mouth and nose. Choking out the air. Filling her lungs. Speeding her toward being unmade. She scrambled against the hold, as her vision blurred and went dark.

* * *

The rough texture of the tree scraped against Byron’s cheek as he stirred back to consciousness. He sucked in a breath, wincing at the dull ache in his chest but happy to not feel the sharp sting that would indicate broken ribs. His left hand throbbed and pain raced up his arm as he tried to flex his fingers. Gritting his teeth, he pulled it out of the snow. It looked like it been hit with a mallet. It was black and blue with streaks of red from the cut across his palm and bits of white showed in places where the flesh had broken.

“This is bad,” he said, muttering the words out loud on reflex. The avalanche had pressed him against the tree as it passed around, leaving him alive. He grabbed the nearest branch and pulled. “I’m not dying here.”

The wood creaked and groaned, as the snow held him tight. Byron kicked and braced with his feet, scaling up the tree in what amounted to lunges. Finally, he hooked his left arm around the tree, tears of pain forming cold rivulets down his cheek.

He had no gear, no idea of his location, and no hope of rescue. The surrounding mountains stabbed in to the clouds; granite needles half-covered in snow. Not the Cascades of his memories, more like the Alps he’d flown over in the service.

“Etina?” He looked around for his lover. She’d taken him to this place. Drawn him through the mirror. The cold didn’t bother him anymore, but he could still feel pain. There was only silence. His survival instinct kicked in. “Okay, get off this mountain and find shelter.”

* * *

Byron leaned heavily on the tree-branch as he descended the final few feet to the base of the slope. He’d sacrificed the elastic band of his shorts to secure his broken fingers and cover the open wound. Blessedly, feeling had fled from the stricken area hours ago. Maybe it’d been days.

“Keep going. Find help,” he said to himself. Each step required the mantra. A lie to convince himself that he wasn’t going to die in the middle of who knows where. He took a step onto the flat ground. His legs wobbled from exhaustion and twinged from cramps.

The clouds rolled behind the mountains, bathing him in sunshine. Byron let it beat on his face, eyes shut tight against the sudden change in illumination. As his vision cleared, he saw a vast plain of ice stretching before him, surrounded by snow-capped mountains. Stands of evergreens gave color to the granite faces. Ice crystals drifted in the air, glittering rainbows that enchanted and beguiled with assistance from the sun.

“Now, this would be a beautiful place to live,” he said, turning a full circle to see where he’d come from. In the distance, a rainbow of color glittered on the horizon. “What the hell is that?”

* * *

By the time he reached the gate, Bryon’s legs shook with exhaustion. He sank to his knees, too weary to continue any further. The ice castle loomed in front of him. No blizzard covered slope or hazardous ascent, just the wall and minarets of ice. The gate remained sealed as he approached.

“You trespass, human toy,” hissed the icy scarecrow, as it materialized out of the wall in front of him. Icicle-like fingers scraped across the surface, leaving deep gouges. “That penalty is death.”

“Fuck.”

“Foolish. Lost. Helpless.” Soggy hands tugged at his clothing.

“Stay away!” He swung violently, squishing into a body of wet snow and it laughed mockingly at him.

“Useless toy,” she said in a mushy voice. “Already broken.”

“He’s mine!” Etina’s voice thundered from the parapets. “Leave him alone!”

His tormentors drew back, hurrying toward the gate.

“Let us in!” they wailed, beating on the closed entrance. “We demand entry!”

“You have lost, sisters.” His lover swirled into being from the clouds of ice, a spitting image of the picture, but with snowy-white hair. Dark blue bruises covered her arms and face along with three long cuts on her cheek.

For a second, he felt the ache coming from her body. Each bruise and cut appeared on him, before fading away to nothing as she glided by him. In that moment, they shared each other’s strength.

“You tried to take what is not yours,” she rasped, “and there’s a price to pay.”

“No!”

His lover grabbed the scarecrow-thing, raised it above her head, and shattered it with a jerk. Shards of ice danced in the air, melting in the sunlight, leaving tiny drops of water that evaporated before reaching the ground.

“Please, sister…” cried the mound of snow, sliding across the ice, slowing and hardening until it moved no more. Cracks traced across the surface and released snowflakes that twirled into the air and vanished into the sky.