Only a small part of me remains aware of the jeopardy I’m in.
I can’t see a thing through the snow flurries, can’t tell what direction we’re traveling. At one point, I make out the silhouette of what could be a tower in the distance, but it’s impossible to tell.
The Frost King keeps me curled against him, my legs around his hips and my face against the crook of his neck while he leans low to his wolf’s back, his hand wrapped around my head.
His lips at my ear.
Weaving a lifetime of needy heartbeats that make me forget I can’t feel my toes, my feet, my hands…
Maybe I can sense the movement of the king’s muscles beneath my palms, where I continue to press my hands to his bare skin, one at his side, one at his heart.
Maybe.
Or maybe I’m delirious with cold, and none of this is happening…
Even as my thoughts drift, he sings to me.
Every note pulls my mind back to my body, fitting my broken pieces together as if the gaps don’t matter.
At some point, I find the strength to ask him what he’s doing to me, but his answer is muted.
Warm, he tells me. Or…that’s what I hear. The proof of it slides through my chest, swirling in my stomach, stroking downward like a perfectly weighted finger between my legs.
A breathtaking build of constant pleasure.
Finally, after what could be as long as an hour, the wind’s howl changes.
Instead of a roar, the breeze groans around us, an unnerving sound, an abrupt enough change to draw my focus for a few heartbeats, but because of the way the king is holding me, I can’t see what we’re heading toward.
“Nara.” The Frost King’s mouth rises from my ear, his command to his wolf far softer than the harsh order he gave her before she first started racing through the snow. “Be calm. You don’t have to go in.”
The wolf immediately pulls to a halt that the Frost King seems to anticipate because he simply uses the momentum to slide smoothly from her back.
Landing lightly with me in his arms, he hurries forward without breaking stride.
Five quick paces later, the wind drops completely, the air jarringly quiet and still.
My ears buzz at the sudden silence.
I grew up with the constant rush of waves onto sand. Each coastal town I lived in was situated right beside the ocean and once again, I’m thrown by how silent the world can be.
More so because the king has stopped singing and…damn…I miss his voice.
Not only for the pleasure it invoked, but because, within the notes, I could almost catch glimpses ofhim. A story he might be trying to tell me…
He doesn’t falter, pushing forward through what must be deep snow because each footfall descends farther down than the one before until the white powder is so high that I can see it reaching his knees.
Without a sound, he continues to move forward, and his next step takes us into sudden shadow, another startling change.
It was already nighttime; the air was dark, but until now, whirling snow had turned the world bright white, every reflection of starlight glaring and intensified.
Now, darkness seems to swallow us.
As if the Frost King reads my thoughts, he lowers his face to mine, pressing his cheek to my cheek.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
My right hand remains pressed to his heart, and now that he’s adjusted his position, I can see that my fingernails have continued to draw blood.
