The Ice Twins - Nikki Jefford Page 0,15

widened his stance.

“Maybe we should let Zelie decide.”

“Maybe I should warm her up before you go popping your cherry in her.”

Fighting with my brother wasn’t something I enjoyed. I folded my arms. “Someone’s a sore loser.”

Reed’s eyebrows drew together in one black slash across his forehead. I gave him a playful shove.

“Hey, look on the bright side. Zelie is finally available, and, dude, she’s interested.”

Reed gave my mouth a skeptical look. “You didn’t blow it for us?”

Mr. Lame-o was asking for another shove. Three times Zelie had told me she wasn’t inviting me to come inside. The third and final time she’d spoken the words, I’d sensed her resolve fading as she panted between kisses. Sadly, I had to be the one to pull back. Reed and I had agreed on first kiss, not sex. But damn, it had taken all my willpower—and a blast of cold straight down my balls—to walk away.

“Nope. I even let her know you’re next.”

Reed leaned in, searching my face. “What did she say?”

“Not much . . . not with all the making out we were doing.”

Reed glared, but this time he was fighting back a grin. “I’ve waited this long. I suppose I can get through one more night,” he said, trying to sound cool.

“Uh-huh. Maybe you want to make amends with our sister first.”

Reed blinked. “I hurt her feelings, didn’t I?”

“You think? This is going to take more than words to set right.”

I tapped my foot on the tiled floor.

Reed sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t tell me we’re going to the mall,” he groaned.

“I’ll buy you a soft pretzel while we’re there.”

Reed returned to scowling, which drew laughter from my throat as I opened a portal in the living room. With the time difference between our realms, we could still make it to the mall before closing.

Reed

The next morning, my brother sat up in his bed as I slipped out of my covers and stretched my arms over my head.

I pulled on a pair of black jeans and glanced over at my twin. “You’re up early,” I noted.

Ronin flashed me a wide, dopey grin. “I feel really awake and peppy today. Hmm. I wonder why.” He tapped his lower lip.

“Jerk,” I muttered as I headed out of our room.

“I love you too, bro,” he called after me.

A win for Ronin is a win for Team Twin, I reminded myself as I shuffled down the hall. I would have been more upset if my brother had failed to kiss Zelie. If she’d laughed in his face, it would have felt like she’d laughed in mine. But she’d kissed Ronin, which meant she’d kiss me. Victory.

Unless she prefers Ronin, an insolent voice nagged at me.

Mom stood in the kitchen with one hand on her hip, staring me down as I entered. This morning she was fully dressed in a white blouse, leather waist cincher, and tailored slacks, looking like she meant business. The smell of coffee filled my nostrils. Three pieces of bread sat toasting on a large cast iron skillet over an open flame.

“I told you not to fight with your sister,” Mom scolded.

“Especially not after dark,” Lyklor added from the dining table. He kept his eyes trained on the newspaper open in his hands. Steam lifted from the mug in front of him.

Mom’s jaw softened as she saw me staring at the mug. “Go ahead. Try cooling it—gradually like we practiced the other day.”

Our mom, being the awesome elf that she was, had started training—as she called it—Ronin and me in the art of elemental magic. Unfortunately, her elemental master had died of old age, but my brother and I thought it was cool to learn from our mom. Well, hot in her case. There were similar principles, though. For instance, magnifying temperature at a steady pace. Mom had demonstrated with a spark of fire she’d fed little by little, having Ronin and me do the same with a drop of ice.

When I took a step toward the table, Lyklor’s head jerked up.

“Does it have to be my coffee?” he asked.

Mom poured coffee into a mug and set it on the kitchen counter. “Here. Cool mine.”

I flashed her a grateful smile for her belief in the progress I’d made in mastering my abilities. It was easier to drop the temperature when I was touching the object. I touched the mug’s handle and focused on cooling it off in measures, my finger prickling at the tip as I concentrated. My