Being there had to be difficult for him, because his dad didn’t like demons. Apparently, his mating to Pax’s mom had sucked. Which meant that his dad didn’t like half of Pax, since he was half demon.

Although Pax would never talk about it.

She walked along the lake, nodding at different soldiers on patrol, letting the snow brush her hair and land on her eyelashes. Winter was her favorite time and always had been.

When they were younger, Pax, Libby, and she had spent hours upon hours building snowmen. They should get together and build another one while the snow was still thick and fluffy enough to make it easy. She hummed as she meandered along the brick sidewalk, past the back entrances to several homes, just as the lights inside began to flip on and illuminate the sparkling snow.

She reached Pax’s house, which was darker than most of the others, showing very little light through the windows. Was Pax even home? What was going on? The icy snow crunched when she walked by the side of the house and around to the front to knock on the wide door. While Pax would normally just come into her house, she didn’t visit him enough to feel comfortable doing that, especially since her bodyguard hadn’t scoped out the place. Even she knew the limits. She knocked again.

Nobody answered.

She tensed and knocked again. Pax usually told her if he was going anywhere, and he hadn’t said anything. Maybe he was sleeping. Or sick. She knocked even harder, leaning in to listen for any sound.

A crash vibrated inside and a raised voice suddenly echoed through the house.

She stepped back, her heartbeat speeding up. Was Pax in danger? “Paxton?” She rang the doorbell several times and looked around for any patrolling soldiers, but the snowy street was quiet.

The door swung open and Pax’s dad stood there, scowling. He was big and broad with metallic copper eyes, and his black hair was ruffled around his shoulders. His face was wide and his cheekbones sharp, kind of like Pax’s. “What are you doing with the damn doorbell?”

Hope paused. “Hi Paelotin. Is Pax here?”

“I’m here.” Pax pushed past his dad, his lip bleeding. His dark hair was long and wild around his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m not done with you.” Paelotin grabbed his hair and pulled him back inside, twisting and throwing him toward an end table. The sound was loud and frightening. Pax crashed into it and rolled, coming up on his feet as if it was no big deal. “I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are.” Paelotin turned and backhanded Pax across the cheek, throwing him over the sofa to land on the other side. Pax hit the coffee table, and glass shattered, cutting his throat.