of the stools lining the breakfast bar. Winter placed the glass in front of Fox, fighting the urge to gather him in his arms again.
He took a step away and looked at Fox for the first time since they left the cabin. The back of his arms, T-shirt, and down the legs of his jeans were streaked with blood and slashes. His heart broke while fresh anger poured through him. He wanted to return to the cabin and shatter the frozen bitch who had hurt him. He wanted to burn her cabin to the ground with her inside, then slip into the world of the dead and torture her fucking ghost for a few decades.
“I’m fine, I swear,” Fox said. His voice sounded lighter and firmer than it had, as if he’d regained some of his strength.
“You were stabbed so many times,” Winter whispered. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Fox’s temple, still afraid of touching him.
“Trust me, I know, but Zelda healed me. Here. Lift up my shirt.”
Winter stepped aside as Fox grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. Winter helped, lifting it completely over his head. He’d expected to see hundreds of long, deep ugly wounds, but instead there were just tiny red lines. Some looked a little angrier than others, but he would have said all of them were easily weeks old. Very carefully, he smoothed his hand over Fox’s back, and his boyfriend didn’t flinch in pain. He sighed happily, leaning into his touch.
“Oh thank God,” Winter sighed. He grabbed Fox from behind and held him tight, pressing his face into his sweaty hair.
“No, thank Zelda. She fixed me. Though, if you want, I’ve still got some tender cuts on my ass you can kiss later,” Fox said playfully.
A scoffing noise pulled Winter’s attention to the kitchen, where the witch was placing a pale green tea kettle on the stove. He couldn’t remember having a tea kettle. Or the delicate cup and saucer that sat on the counter next to the stove.
“Such a naughty boy,” Zelda murmured.
“I’d thank Zelda if she’d just shown up when we started looking for her weeks ago. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have found ourselves on that bitch’s doorstep in the first place.” Winter snarled, his arms still tightly wrapped around Fox.
“Oh, my God. What the fuck?” Fox moaned, but Zelda just laughed.
“It’s okay. He’s like his brother. All the Variks can be hotheads when someone they care about is threatened. Rafe got snippy with me over his Philippe.”
Fox hummed happily in Winter’s arms, but Winter was not charmed. “Can you please tell us what the hell is going on? Do you know about this stupid prophecy? Or even who made it?”
“And did you make that protective shield that blocked the fire?” Fox added.
Zelda rubbed her hands together and smiled broadly. “To answer your last question, first—no. No, I didn’t. You did that, and you know it.”
Fox squeaked in his arms, and even Winter’s heart did a little skip for him. Fox had done magic. Had done it all on his own. Joy surged through him for his witch. He wanted to give Fox time to explore all of this, but they also needed to know about this prophecy and what it meant in their fight against Damon. They had no idea if Zelda would be sticking around or if they’d get another chance to talk to her.
“But we’ll have to talk more about that later. Your boyfriend is about to bust a seam if we don’t get down to business,” Zelda said with a deep laugh.
Fox sighed and nodded. “He’s right. My questions can wait. We need to protect his family. The prophecy. Do you know who made it?”
“Of course I do,” she said easily. She shuffled over to the counter where she started digging through a strange bag made of multicolored fabrics. Winter didn’t remember seeing her carry it, but then the majority of his focus had been on Fox. She pulled out a little tin and what looked to be a silver ball tea diffuser on a delicate chain. “Would you like some hot tea? My own mixture.”
“No, thank you,” Fox said brightly. He seemed taken with the witch. Not that Winter could blame him. Other than his mother, she was the first witch who hadn’t tried to kill him.
“Zelda, the prophecy.”
She huffed at Winter before turning back to her teacup. “Yes, yes. The prophecy.”
“Did you make it?”
“Of course. As if anyone else would be trusted with such