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“Morrigan is somehow involved. And a cauldron,” I said.
His face was alarmingly close to mine.
“The Celts have a liking for the cauldrons. Cauldrons of plenty. Cauldrons of knowledge. Cauldrons of rebirth.” His breath warmed my cheek. His hands were warm, too. By all rights he should have been freezing.
“Cauldron of rebirth?”
“A gateway to the Otherworld.”
He tried to dip me, but I resisted and he smoothly turned the dip into a turn.
“Tell me more about it.”
“You should ask the witches. They know. But ask later. After the deep magic wanes.”
“Why?”
“Because if you leave, I’ll be bored again.”
Oh crap. “Tell me more about the witches. Which coven should I ask?”
“All of them.”
He slid my hand onto his shoulder. I pulled back, but he already held my shoulders, hugging me tight to him. His huge erection pressed against me.Great, just great.
“How can I ask all of the covens? There are dozens in the city.”
“Simple.” Honeyed breath washed over me. “You ask the Witch Oracle.”
“The witches have an oracle?” We had slowed down to mere shuffling now. I shuffled backward, heading toward the end of the roof where the ledge lay.
“In Centennial Park,” he said softly. “There are three of them. They speak for all the covens. I hear they have a problem they can’t fix.”
“Then it’s best I go to them.”
He shook his head. “But then I’ll be all alone.”
“I have to go.”
“You never stay.” He turned his head and kissed my fingers. “Stay with me. It will be fun.”
I noticed the ice building around us. If this kept going, we would be encased in an igloo in a matter of minutes.
“Why is the ice growing?”