“I’m making you late.” His nose brushes mine, and his mouth skates over the edge of my lips. “You should probably get ready for class.” The words are lost in the haze that wraps around me as he grazes my ear. His voice is deep, rough with desire, sending a delicious shiver through me, and I wonder if he knows how much power he has. How he ignites my blood and makes my body thrum, even without his Winter magic.

“Are we ever going to talk about this?” I ask.

Jack’s breath stills against my neck. He pulls back a little, just enough to search my face. He presses a too-soft kiss to my lips before untangling himself from my hands. Suddenly, his warm weight is gone, and he’s reaching down to help me up. “I’ve got my meeting with Lyon, then I’m going for a run.”

“Where?”

“To the park,” he says, reaching for a towel.

My hands freeze where they smooth the wrinkles from my shirt. Forcing a smile, I hitch a thumb over my shoulder, gesturing at the treadmill I bought him for Christmas. He hasn’t turned it on once since I took it out of the box. The sleek black machine sprawls like a slumbering cat, positioned strategically in front of the open window. “It won’t kill you to try it, you know.”

“Neither will running outside alone.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. We both know why I bought it. He knows I hate running. That I only go running with him at the park every morning because I’m afraid to let him go by himself. I don’t worry about myself out there. The rules of our world have changed since the rebellion. Most of the restrictions that used to keep Seasons in check have been lifted, giving us more freedom than we’ve ever had before. But while most Seasons seem grateful for the change, I’m not foolish enough to believe there aren’t still a few out there who feel loyal to Michael and miss the old ways. Lyon assures us he rounded up as many as he could find, but it only takes one, and Jack’s face is far too recognizable—he might as well be the poster boy for the whole revolution. And as much as I hate to admit it, he’s vulnerable without his magic. Daniel Lyon may have granted Jack immortality as part of the benefits package for the roles we played in overthrowing Michael, but just because our bodies don’t age doesn’t mean we can’t be injured or die. We both have to stay vigilant if we want to plant safe roots here. And running alone in the city isn’t smart.

“Why won’t you use it?” I ask, leaning a hip against the treadmill.