Chapter Twelve

The Big Bad Wolf and the Vengeful Losers Posse

“You’d think almost getting slashed to bits by a freaking werewolf would deter you from taking nightly walks on a magical mountain practically designed to kill you,” she muttered to herself. “But noooo.”

She kicked at a mound of snow, stepping between two boulders that resembled small buildings. The night was eerily quiet, which she’d come to realize just might be an average Frost Mountain experience. She paused momentarily in her tracks, staring at the woods barely a hundred feet ahead. Behind her, Ariadne’s cabin remained practically invisible, embedded in the rock.

It was Christmas Eve. They only knew that because Ariadne had said so. Lyla had no idea how people kept track of time on this mountain, especially with no watches or calendars. She couldn’t help wondering if Frost Mountain, infinite as it was, had its own time zones or, at least, incongruities when it came to that sort of thing. For all she knew, people were celebrating Easter thousands of miles across the mountain.

She scoffed. They might as well be in the middle of summer right now if that was a thing around here. Hard to make any accurate claims when it snowed all the time.

Still, it was Christmas Eve, and Lyla found that fact pleasing. Why that was, she wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe it was something in the meals Ariadne had been feeding them over the past couple of days. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that this would be her first time celebrating Christmas since she put her ex-husband behind bars and ventured into the beautiful, deadly world of bounty hunting.

There wasn’t exactly anything normal about spending Christmas on Frost Mountain, especially given how she’d landed here in the first place, but she was willing to take what she could get. After all, it could be worse. If anything, she considered herself pretty lucky to be here, safe and alive, spending this period in Ariadne’s cozy home.

And with Tristan.

A thought flickered across her mind, and she paused again, suddenly short of breath. It had been days ago, but the memory of what had happened that night was still so fresh it might as well have been yesterday.

Tristan holding her…Tristan kissing her, stripping her bare…Tristan’s lips caressing her body until she could barely retain her sanity…Tristan filling her with pure ecstasy, with himself.

They’d lain together afterward, holding each other close until they fell asleep. Things had changed somewhat since then.

“I’m in love,” she muttered into the night, “with a werewolf.”

She had to admit, it felt a little odd saying that out loud. But it was the truth. As weird as it seemed, there was no doubt that she felt something for Tristan. In her defense, it hadn’t exactly been hard to. He’d saved her life even when her demise would’ve been in his favor. Holding her in her sleep for warmth and protecting her from Angus had been a blessed bonus, not to mention he wasn’t exactly bad-looking.

Oh, who was she kidding? Tristan was a hunk of a mountain man.

He was also cursed.

Her heart throbbed for the man, and with good reason, but her mind also functioned perfectly. And the logical part of her couldn’t help wondering about the risks of letting herself be with Tristan. Sure, he was an amazing man, and he was taking care of his problem now, but what were the odds that what had happened all those nights ago in Alfanger wouldn’t happen again?

A cold wind forced her to wrap her coat more tightly around herself. Tristan’s blade pressed against her thigh. He’d been reluctant to let her take a walk outside the cabin by herself until Ariadne insisted that he leave her be. According to her, this area was as safe as could be. Still, the healer encouraged her to take the blade along, just in case.

Lyla knew the blade part had been to calm Tristan down. She was pretty sure the woman already suspected something was going on between her brother and her. But that was only one of the multiple issues yet to be dealt with and done with.

Between the Harrison curse making a comeback and the unresolved tension between Tristan and his sister, she had a feeling they were going to be sticking around for a while.

A walk alone at night was always a great idea if you were looking to clear your mind. On Frost Mountain, however, it ranked somewhere between dumb and suicidal.

To be fair, so did having feelings for a man who could turn into a ravaging monster and end her life in a matter of seconds.

It really was like playing Russian roulette with a carbine, she thought with a chuckle.

A flicker of movement in the corner of her vision wiped the smile off her face. She glanced up just in time to spot several shapes emerging from the woods west of her.

Lyla frowned. Hadn’t Ariadne mentioned that she wasn’t expecting any visitors this time of the year? These guys were headed in her direction. She peered closer, her curiosity clawing at her insides. She caught sight of seven of them and then saw another one and then one more.

Nine in total.

Nine men marched toward Ariadne’s home like knights about to take a castle.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were or who was leading them.

Crap!

Lyla whirled on the spot and burst into a sprint, heading back toward the cabin.

Crap, crap!

“Tristan!” she called, although a part of her already knew that neither he nor Ariadne could hear her. She was still at least a hundred feet away from the cabin. “Tristan, we need to go !”

How the heck had Angus found them? Tristan had assured her they would be completely hidden here. Angus shouldn’t have been able to track them down. Her mind spun into overdrive, formulating all kinds of possibilities as she beelined back to the cabin.

If Angus found them, they were all dead. Tristan hadn’t just wounded the man physically back in Alfangar; he’d injured Angus’s ego, and that was something the village chief wasn’t about to brush off easily, especially with the murder of his sons still fresh in his mind.

They had to get the heck out of here–and fast.

The cabin grew larger in her field of vision as she drew nearer. Seventy feet…sixty feet…

She glanced over her shoulder. The men were getting closer.

Fifty feet…forty-five feet…

A ferocious snarl made her stop in her tracks. Lyla’s breath faltered in her throat as she faced the creature that had made the sound.

“Oh, man,” she muttered. “This is not my idea of a Christmas surprise.”

The wolf snarled again, taking a step toward her. It was just as massive as she’d remembered and just as terrifying.

“Tristan,” she said as placatingly as she could, holding up both hands, “it’s just me. It’s Lyla. I know you’re in there somewhere.”

If the wolf could understand what she was saying, it gave no indication. A deep growl sent her staggering backward through the snow. Lyla’s heartbeat quickened. This was exactly what she’d been concerned about. From the look of things, Ariadne’s potion had either worn off or lost its potency. Lyla’s bet was on the latter.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. Angus and his men were still approaching, hemming her in as they drew nearer.

Great .

Now, she was trapped between two forces that were sure to kill her in the most violent ways possible.

Trapped between the Big Bad Wolf and the vengeful losers’ posse.

“Tristan,” she tried desperately, “please. I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

The wolf’s snarl told her she was badly mistaken.

When it leaped at her, she had the foresight to leap out of the way. She hit the snow and rolled to her feet, drawing her blade from beneath her coat. If she was going to die, she wasn’t about to make it easy, not for the wolf or these men.

The wolf turned to face her, its eyes aglow with murderous intent.

“Come and get me,” Lyla said, the blade trembling in her grip. “I’m ready for you.”

Before she could meet her demise, a voice yelled, “Lyla!”

The cabin door burst open. Two figures hurried out, racing down the stone steps toward her. Lyla recognized Ariadne in the lead, her silvery hair fluttering around her head as she ran. And just behind her, his face tight with worry….

Holy crud.

It was Tristan.