head with the other. The yawn he released was big enough to practically crack his jaw.
And for some bizarre reason, Winter’s first thought was that he was adorable.
He was losing his mind. It had to be the quiet of his place. His loft was never this quiet.
The thought stopped him cold.
His home was never this quiet. There were always ghosts lingering about, passing through and moaning about something. Or simply confused about their current state or why they couldn’t find their goddamn keys. Whatever. The point was…ghosts were always around him.
But they weren’t now.
They hadn’t been since…
Cara. He’d talked to the ghost called Cara in Damon’s home. He’d seen them as he escaped Damon’s mansion with Fox.
But the second he left the dead world…nothing. No ghosts.
He placed the glass on the center island with a loud clink, causing Fox to jump. He twisted on the couch and graced Winter with a sleepy smile.
“Hey,” he called in a husky voice. But Winter couldn’t answer. His mind was full of questions, hopes, and other complicated emotions that he wasn’t ready to look too closely at just yet. But there was one question repeating over and over in his head.
Was this Fox’s doing?
Winter stood frozen in the kitchen, trying to remember any ghosts he saw in the world of the living prior to meeting Fox. There hadn’t been many at the hotel he’d chosen, but there were a few. One had lingered in the lobby, bitching about how the real flowers had been replaced with shitty silk fakes.
But when he walked through with Fox in tow later that night, he hadn’t noticed a damn one. There hadn’t been a single one on the drive to the hotel. Not in the hotel. And now, not one was in his home.
Fox pushed to his feet and crossed toward the kitchen. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I didn’t,” Winter replied softly.
For a second, Winter struggled to breathe. He gripped the counter in front of him until his fingers ached. Panic was rising like a tidal wave in his chest, threatening to pound him into the sand. How was this possible? The voices had plagued him since he was a fucking child. When he was reborn as a vampire, the voices became ghosts. They were always there, no matter the time of day or where he was. Talking, talking, talking.
There were so few moments of pure, blissful silence when he could hear only his own thoughts. The only time he could get a reliable break was when he was driving. Night had passed with him spending hours in the car just to get away from it all.
But now, he was standing in his own home and there was just…silence.
A lump formed in his throat and squeezed his lungs. His knees were trembling, threatening to dump him on his ass, but he didn’t care. Hope fluttered in his chest, and he tried to squash it. He was scared to hope that this might last. God, he’d take a night. He longed for longer, but he would be grateful for just one night.
He wanted this more than air.
More than blood.
But it was too good to be true.
Winter’s eyes snapped to Fox as a new thought slammed into his brain. If this was Fox’s doing, was this how he destroyed his family? Did he slowly steal away Winter’s powers? Or would the ghosts offer up some critical warning that would otherwise save the Variks, but Winter would now miss it because of Fox?
Clenching his teeth against a scream of frustration and pain, Winter glared at Fox. “Is this your doing?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The ghosts. I can’t see the ghosts! Did you do this?” Winter shouted, panic starting to overwhelm the tenuous hold on his control.
Fox held up his open hands, stepping away from the breakfast bar, as if he were afraid to get any closer to Winter. “I haven’t done anything. I just woke up.”
Winter balled his hands into fists and made himself plant his feet. He didn’t trust himself not to come around the bar and grab the other man. Simply shake the information he needed out of him. “No, this started when we were still in Virginia. Before we even reached the hotel. What did you do?”
Shaking his head, Fox took another step backward. “I haven’t done anything. I swear.”
Fox claimed he couldn’t do any spells or significant magic, but this was a big fucking deal. It had to be the witch’s doing.