The Unedited WIP files: Freeze Line

Some days, you just want to write a hopeless romance. (If you’re us, you call that day a day that ends in Y.)

Freeze Line might well be the most hopeless one we’ve written yet, since we’ve got the earth itself trying to keep the hero and heroine apart.  In our post-apocalyptic ice age, both characters depend on the earth.

Shane is a werewolf who lives in the frozen north, where magic sleeps and with it all of the madness that comes from being a monster.  Venturing too far south will put him in danger of losing his humanity.  Nadia is a witch who needs magic to survive.  Going too far north weakens her so quickly that a few months could kill her–if the humans don’t get her first.

These two wacky kids don’t have it easy, but I have loved writing their story.  So here is an (UNEDITED) snippet for the curious.  Freeze Line comes out in December from Carina Press, alongside several other holiday & winter themed stories from absolutely awesome authors.   (We, however, are heavy on the winter, lighter on the holiday.)

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The springs south of Twin Falls had always been there, or so the old-timers in Hamilton had told Shane.

At one point, when such places were uncommon on other parts of the States, those springs had drawn tourists to southern Idaho. Back then, there had been several hundred springs in the state. Less than half had bubbled up at low enough temperatures not to boil a person’s flesh clean off.

Now, there were three times as many hot springs, and it was the rare one that could scald, much less kill. But the areas around the springs felt different. Not warmer, not exactly–a quick glance at a thermometer would disprove that–but stronger.

Different.

Shane threw his cooling coffee on the ground. It hissed and soaked down, staining the snow. “You want more before I kill the fire?”

“Mmm.” Not quite an answer, but Nadia seemed barely able to focus on him this morning. She sat on the tailgate of the truck with her eyes closed and her head tilted back.

Her skin was flushed, even in the cold, and there had been times during the night when her body had trembled against his. Whatever magic dwelled here in the hot earth, Nadia could feel it.

So could he.

She wet her lips, and her eyes drifted open, heavy-lidded, endless pupils enclosed by a narrow brown ring. Her shallow, too-quick breaths and the unsteady thump of her heart erased any innocence in her sleepy, curious gaze.

His own fever washed over him in a wave of heat, and he knew he has to lock it down. Now. “Nadia.”

The tip of her tongue dragged over her full lower lip again. Her gaze fixed on his throat. “I think I’m ready to leave.”

She’d have to be, whether she liked it or not. “We’ve got a lot of miles to cover.”

Nadia closed her eyes and slipped from the tailgate with a grace he hadn’t seen in her before. “I’m feeling much better…but not very like myself.”

“Everything’s waking up.”

“Yes, it is.” She stretched, arching up on her toes with her head thrown back, early morning sun bright on her face in spite of the biting cold. “I know I should conserve my energy. I know I’ll need it to survive before we reach the border. But I’m so full…I want to do something.”

She was beautiful like this, free and primal, almost wild. “Like what?”

Laughter filled the space between them, warm and low, the sound its own caress. “I could show you fireworks.”

It sounded too much like an invitation, especially with the fever simmering in his blood. “Fireworks?”

Nadia brought her hands together in front of her. A whispered word, and the currents around them began to spin in a wide, lazy arc, as if she was drawing the earth into her. A brilliant light kindled above her palms, a flame that twisted into a perfect sphere refracting a hundred colors.

It hung, suspended above her mittens, and her sudden smile was brilliant. “Sometimes, at home, I throw these into the air for the children. They can be so beautiful when they explode.”

Shane found himself laughing, charmed as much by her smile as by the disarmingly frivolous display of power. “I thought you said you were a warrior.”

Her smile faded. “If I threw this into a person, they’d explode, too. And it wouldn’t be beautiful at all.”

A harsh reminder, one he shouldn’t have needed. Shane poured another cup of coffee and held it out. “We’ve got to get moving.”

She whispered another word and snapped her hands together. When they fell apart, there was no trace of magic. “Thank you,” she said quietly, reaching out to accept the cup. It looked awkward, cradled between hands encased in oversized mittens, but she just turned and started toward the front of the truck.

He’d upset her. He should have gone to her, tried to explain that it wasn’t her he was afraid of so much as himself.

Instead, he tossed the rest of the coffee, rinsed the pot, and stowed their supplies in the back of the truck. The fire had died to embers, and Shane piled snow on top. He watched as it melted and hissed, shoveling the remains around until nothing warm was left.