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By one of the things I love most in this world… ice.

All while admiring a damn fountain.

Honestly, if I die here, my mother will be unbearable at my funeral.

And I can already imagine the headlines.

The Ice Princess Was Taken Too Soon.

Cause of Death: Poor Decisions and Winter Weather.

I take another step back. “Okay,” I mutter, glaring up at the tree. “I get it.”

A gust of wind sweeps through the trees, making the remaining icicles tremble ominously.

I narrow my eyes. “No more morbid analogies.”

Another tiny crack echoes overhead.

I immediately look up. “Don’t even think about it.”

“So you talk to yourself, huh?”

I spin around so quickly that my boots sink deeper into the snow.

My heart jumps.

Ugh.

No. Not him witnessing this.

What else can go wrong?

Khaos.

He stands there like my irritation summoned him, completely unbothered by the storm raging around us.

He’s dressed entirely in black.

Black boots buried ankle-deep in snow. Black cargo pants. Black gloves. A heavy winter coat zipped to his throat and a black beanie pulled low over his forehead, leaving only those dark, watchful eyes visible.

Snow dusts his shoulders and gathers on his beanie, somehow making him look even more intimidating.

Against all this white, he looks completely out of place.

Like the Prince of Hell took a wrong turn and ended up in a winter wonderland with a spectacularly bad attitude. Or perhaps the Grim Reaper.

A very tall, very irritating Grim Reaper.

One who apparently has nothing better to do than sneak up on unsuspecting women minding their own business. It seems that even when I manage to find five uninterrupted minutes of peace, someone has to ruin it.

My eyes narrow and his mouth twitches.

I immediately distrust that expression.

“What are you doing here? And why are you sneaking up on me like that? It’s weird.” He looks at me as if I’ve just asked the stupidest question he’s heard all day.

Thud.