Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 05:37:11 -0500 From: Kody Boye <boyekody@gmail.com> Subject: His Touch of Ice - Part 12 DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of graphic violence and explicit male/male sex. If you are not of the legal age to read this, or are uncomfortable with this sort of content, please turn back now. HIS TOUCH OF ICE (The Ice Men, Book 1) is copyright © Kody Boye. All Rights are reserved. ______________________________________________________________________________ We ate pizza over six `o clock news on the coffee table in the living room. Outside, the beginnings of a Texas thunderstorm broiled in the sky, scattering miniscule droplets of rain shadowed only by the prediction that more would come. "You usually eat on the floor like this?" I asked after taking a bite. "Honestly? Yeah. Closer to the TV." "You've got a point there," I laughed. Guy lifted a fist and bumped my hand when I raised mine in turn. A clap of thunder made me jump and bang my knee against the coffee table. "You all right?" Guy asked. "Sorry," I managed, glad I hadn't choked over my mouthful. "Don't like thunderstorms much." "How come?" "Notice my arm?" I asked. Not that it wouldn't be hard to—the mark spread all the way from my shoulder down to the middle of my arm, ornate in composition but absolutely horrifying in backstory. "I got struck by lightning." "No shit?" Guy asked. "Fuck. I thought you said it was a tattoo, but I didn't want to make it awkward by asking."." "It's called a Lichtenburg figure. Most people only get them for a few days or weeks after getting struck, but others—like me—get scarred. They're supposedly caused when the capillaries are ruptured from the lightning strike." "Damn." "I've always been a bit self-conscious about it," I shrugged. "That's why I brushed it off when you asked that first night." "Well, we only had one thing on our minds." "Yeah." "When'd it happen?" "When I was eight. Stupid me. Playing in a field, boasting all proudly that I wouldn't get hit by lightning because I wasn't the tallest thing around." I snorted. "Look how far that got me." "Least you're not dead," Guy offered. "Still don't like thunderstorms," I countered. Another clap sounded, this one thankfully more distant. I was able to keep from jumping and pulled my legs out from under the table. Yawning, I stretched my arms over my head and cast a glance toward the kitchen. "What time is it?" I asked. Guy, far closer to the kitchen and at a better vantage point, leaned over and said, "Eight." "I think I'm gonna go to bed," I said. "Thank you for dinner. And helping me bring all my shit over." "It's no problem." "You want me to help clean up?" "Nah." Guy shook his head. "Go to bed." I pushed myself up and started for my bedroom. Guy, too, stood, but rather than reach down to put the pizza away, he brushed his hand along my arm. "Jason?" he asked. "Yeah?" He pulled me into a one-armed hug. "Glad you're here," he said. I smiled before departing to my room. ____________________________________________________________________________ If you enjoyed this installment of HIS TOUCH OF ICE, consider emailing the author with your thoughts or donating to him via Paypal at boyekody@gmail.com. You can also download the novel for free on Smashwords, Amazon Kindle, or any other major eBook retailer, or buy the Audible version online via Amazon.com. You can visit the author online at www.kodyboye.com.