13. The Frost King

13

THE FROST KING

T he beast is sleeping.

Her proximity gives him the strength to keep it away. For the first time in centuries, he feels warm—like himself. Frosty, she calls him. That meddling snow fairy gave the nickname, yet it brings a smile to his lips every time she uses it. Walking beside her now, he can’t help but steal another glance at her.

She looks beautiful. The pale blue of her fur-trimmed dress compliments the dark length of her hair. Her brown eyes glow with wonder as she takes in the castle. Little gasps of amazement heat his blood to a raging fire.

A delicate shade of pink colors her round cheeks. How would that blush feel against his lips? His tongue? Do other parts of her turn that delicious color?

Swallowing his growl, he pushes the thoughts from his mind. He can’t give in to temptation—being next to her is more than enough—more than he’s ever deserved.

The snowflake at her throat glows, calling forth old memories. Happy ones from when he was a child. Memories he thought were lost forever. He’ll remember more soon—he has to.

For now, everything hinges on her.

He’s being selfish—knows he should be doing a million other things. Preparations still need to be made, yet he is walking with her and willing the beast to stay away, even knowing the price he will have to pay for it later.

When Dove looks up with a soft smile on her lovely mouth, he knows the pain he will experience tonight will be more than worth it.