Page 10 of Vow to Claim You

After the jet, we transfer to a helicopter. By the time we land on the Volds’ estate’s helipad and I step outside, a gust of air so cold it steals the breath straight from my lungs slams into me. Even wrapped in fur, the wind bites, sharp and vicious, as if the land itself is warning me to turn back.

But it’s not the cold that stops me. It’s the darkness.

November in Monsera means golden afternoons, warm breezes carrying the scent of the sea, sunsets that paint the palace walls in shades of amber and rose. November here—in the Arctic north of Norway, somewhere near a fjord whose name I can’t pronounce—means no sun at all. The polar night, Aric called it on the jet. A period of weeks where the sun simply…doesn’t rise. And it begins just around the time I arrive here, as if the universe wanted to make absolutely certain I understood the metaphor.

A soft sigh escapes me involuntarily. I look around. Snow stretches endlessly in every direction, pale and ghostly under a bruised sky caught somewhere between dusk and something darker. Mountains rise in the distance like the spines of sleeping giants, and the fjord below gleams as black as ink. It’s hauntingly beautiful, I’ll give it that.

Yet despite the winter chill, my blood burns hot. It’s boiling in my veins.

“You vowed to be mine.”

His words echo in my skull.

Yeah. Over my dead body.

Aric appears at my side, his presence enough to block the wind—or maybe the cold simply doesn’t dare touch him. He extends his hand toward me—gentlemanly, almost—but I brush past it. The cold whips through my now loose waves as I march toward the mansion ahead. Wood, vast windows, clean Scandinavian lines that look more like a fortress than a home. If he’s disappointed or amused by my refusal, he doesn’t show it. This man is like reading a book with all the pages torn out. It’s infuriating.

I expect the warmth to comfort me as I step inside, but instead, my heart leaps straight to my throat.

Because a wolf stands in the foyer. An actual wolf. Not a dog that looks like a wolf, not a husky with delusions of grandeur—a wolf. Its thick snow-white fur is as pristine as the ground outside. Its eyes glint in the light like silver knives as it looks at me as though I’m its next prey. Of course this man would have an apex predator waiting in the entryway. What else did I expect?

“Seriously?” The word escapes before fear can finish strangling it, my gaze snapping to Aric with the kind of incredulous fury only he seems to summon from me. “Did you really station a wolf at the door to eat me the moment I arrive?”

He nearly smirks. Nearly. It’s more like a shadow passing over his mouth, there and gone so fast I almost doubt I saw it.

“Meet Elske,” he says smoothly, walking toward the white beast and running his hand through her thick fur. The wolf’s ears flatten, her silver eyes softening as she leans into his touch like an overgrown puppy. “She’s tamed.” His gaze flicks to mine, still cold as the snow outside, but now threaded with something that might be amusement. “She won’t bite. Unlike me.”

The remark earns him an arch of my brow. “Tamed?” I tilt my head, letting the disbelief drip from every syllable. “You mean you went shopping for a pet and decided a wolf sounded better than a golden retriever?”

He doesn’t reply. He just watches me with those freezing eyes like he’s the one made of ice and not his land.

I inhale slowly, my blood still simmering from his earlier words on the jet. If he thinks a wolf in the foyer is enough to rattle me, he’s sorely mistaken. I’ve faced down kings, politicians, and my own father. A pretty white predator with soft fur isn’t going to break me. So I crouch slightly and extend my hand toward the beast.

And no, I don’t mean Aric.

Elske tilts her head, ears twitching, then steps forward with a grace that should terrify me but doesn’t. It fascinates me instead. Her muzzle brushes my palm, warm breath fanning across my skin, and something in my chest loosens just a fraction.

“Huh.” A smile tugs at my lips despite myself. “Seems she likes me.” I glance up at Aric, letting the smirk sharpen. “Maybe she’s smarter than her owner.”

His eyes betray him for a heartbeat, but I couldn’t tell whether it’s approval, amusement, or annoyance. Knowing him, probably all three.

“Careful, Princess.” His voice drops to a growl that vibrates somewhere in my sternum. “Tamed doesn’t mean harmless.”

I rise to my full height, shoulders back, chin lifted, meeting his six-foot-five shadow without flinching. “Guess we have that in common, then.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but it’s gone before I can decide if it was an actual smirk or just my imagination.

Though before I can press him further, footsteps click against the marble, and a woman appears from the corridor. She’s perhaps in her sixties, a good few inches shorter than me, with golden-blond hair now streaked liberally with silver, pulled back into a neat, practical bun. Glasses perch on her nose, a delicate chain looping from the frames around her nape, and she’s dressed in what I assume is a maid’s uniform—though the cozy gray cardigan layered over it softens the formality into something almost grandmotherly. Her face beams the moment she sees Aric.

Shocking someone actually smiles in this ice kingdom. Even more so, at the sight of its frost king.

“Mr. Vold,” she addresses him, clasping her hands together, her voice brimming with fondness. “My apologies! I tried to keep Elske away, but she caught your scent and would not be stopped.” She chuckles like she’s talking to a beloved grandson rather than the coldest man on the continent.

Aric lowers, patting the wolf’s thick fur. His lips soften, just a fraction, and for a heartbeat he looks almost…human?

Look at that. Turns out, he is capable of affection—just needs sharp teeth and four legs to draw it out of him.

“It’s fine, Ingrid,” he says, voice smoother than I’ve heard all day. “I’ve missed her too.”