Snippet from Winter's Story (A Work in Progress)
*Hey all!! So many of you have reached out to me about how much you loved Perfectly Wicked and are hoping for Winter & Erikson’s story. I can’t share much yet, so for now I’m going to leave you this little tidbit (some of you might have seen a version posted on my stories, but I’ll likely just share them here from now on). Maybe more snippets to come?
After half an hour of silence Winter said, “Let’s listen to music.”
Erikson turned his gaze on her, his eyes slowly refocusing. “What do you want to listen to?”
He’d managed to surprise her again. She’d assumed he’d just put on his favorite songs and leave her to suffer through his likely terrible taste in music.
She had her preferences, but she wasn’t going to admit them. So instead she just grunted and said, “Whatever you want.”
A few moments later the beautiful, sorrowful sounds of Rachmininoff’s Vocalise filled the empty silence. Winter turned toward him, her lips parting as the violin’s notes swept into the cab, aching and expertly played. This was one of her favorite pieces to play, but there was no way he could know that. Yes, he knew she played the violin, and she suspected he knew she did it as a way to cope with the visions that were so disturbing they shredded her peace, but there was no way he could know how much she cherished this particular song. It was the song her mother had loved to hear her play most before she’d died when Winter was still a child. Before her deadbeat father had abandoned her and her sisters to their two aunts.
His blue eyes were intent, studying her every expression. Then, just as the intensity of his attention began to sizzle across her skin, his gaze lightened and he winked at her. “Do you like it? I picked the first violin song I saw on Spotify.”
The air whooshed out of Winter’s lungs, and the death grip she had on the wheel eased. He hadn’t purposely picked her most-loved song. Of course he hadn’t.
“It’s fine,” she muttered.
“High praise, coming from you. Tell me, Elf, what does it take to get a real, enthusiastic response from you? Have you ever, I don’t know, smiled?”
She glowered out the windshield. “I smile. Unlike some people who smile and flirt and charm with every breath, I save mine for when it’s deserved.”
Erikson splayed his palm over his chest. “Are you implying that I smile and flirt and charm with every breath?”
“Yes.”
He cracked a grin. “You’re right. People love me. It’s a real curse.”
Winter didn’t know why she bothered talking to him.