Page 20 of Kiss of Frost

My heart hammered as I scrambled to my feet. The dragons continued ascending, claws and fangs flashing as they fought. For a second, it seemed like Callum had the upper hand. He freed himself and dipped under Graeme, dropping out of the larger dragon’s sight. A second later, he sprang up behind Graeme.

I held my breath as pride blossomed in my chest. Callum was smaller, but he was quick. He could—

Graeme whipped one of his claw-tipped wings backward, nailing Callum in the snout. Callum screamed and listed to the left.

Graeme flipped around and flew at him.

“No!” I yelled.

This time, Graeme swung his tail. The barbed tip struck Callum in his hindquarters. Bright-red blood spurted and rained in gruesome droplets that dotted the snow.

I raced forward, stumbling and crying out. “Stop it!”

Callum tumbled, his fall uncontrolled. A scream lodged in my throat, but he flung his wings wide, halting his descent. He hung in the air and shook his head like a boxer stunned in the ring.

Graeme roared. Snapping his wings close to his body, he hurtled downward like a bullet, aiming straight for Callum.

“Stop!” I cried, running as I clawed currents from the air. I flung them—one from each hand—toward Graeme, but it was no use. He dodged both missiles easily and slammed into Callum with a sickening crunch. Callum’s blood splattered over the snow as he gave another agonized shriek.

My mate. Something unlocked inside me. A bolted door flew open, and searing rage boiled forth. With it came a deep sense of knowing. It welled from the depths of my soul and burned like a thousand torches. Callum was mine, and no one would take him from me. A roar filled my throat as the ice dragon sank his claws into Callum and bore him to the earth. He rode Callum to the ground, and they landed with a deafening crash that sent snow flying into the air like lava spewing from a volcano.

I pumped my arms, my hat flying off as I raced forward. The snow cleared, and I stumbled to a halt at the sight of a nude, bearded giant standing over an equally nude Callum sprawled on his back. Callum groaned, one hand clutching at his leg. Blood coated him from hip to ankle, but the gash in his thigh was already knitting back together.

“Thank goodness,” I said, relief pummeling me as I started forward again.

The giant faced me, the look in his pale blue eyes stopping me dead in my tracks. He didn’t appear angry. No murderous intent gleamed in his gaze.

Because nothing gleamed in his gaze—and the utter coldness was more terrifying than fury.

We faced off, Callum’s pained groans joining the erratic thumping of my heart. Graeme stood utterly motionless as he took my measure. He was the largest man I’d ever seen. At five-eleven, I was tall for a woman. But he had at least a foot on me. His body was corded with muscle that glistened in the sun. It was impossible to tell if his jaw was firm under all that beard, but instinct told me it was cut like steel. His shoulders were two thick mounds covered with intricate tattoos that traveled down to fists the size of my head. Forget washboard abs. He had a whole laundromat, the grooves between the muscles cast in deep shadow.

The rest of him was just as enormous. The phrase “tree trunk thighs” had always sounded silly to me—an exaggeration gym bros used once all their brain cells died off. But Graeme Abernathy had a whole forest situation going on. My gaze strayed between his thighs, and I quickly yanked it up.

“Witch,” he rumbled, his voice deep and hoarse, as if he rarely used it. His frigid stare traveled slowly down my body. As it did, the wind shifted, carrying the metallic scent of Callum’s blood away from me. The breeze ruffled Graeme’s hair, which was a rich, dark brown in desperate need of a trim.

He brought his head up sharply, his nostrils flaring. For a second, his blank stare shifted, and his eyes filled with something that might have been surprise. Then he growled and stepped toward me, menace rolling off him in thick waves.

“You think to work your spells against me?” he demanded.

Confusion swept me. I backed up, my heart beating faster. Except dammit, retreating from a predator was almost always a bad idea, so I stopped and lifted my chin. “I can’t cast spells without speaking. And, anyway, that’s not why I came.”

“You shouldn’t have come. Now leave.” He turned and started toward Callum.

“Wait!” I lurched forward, my fingers itching to grab at the wind. As he swung back around, the breeze picked up, blowing harder in his direction. “That’s my dragon you injured. I want him back.”

A groove appeared between Graeme’s dark eyebrows. He stared, and that inscrutable emotion flickered in his eyes again. Just as swiftly, it fled, a curtain of ice slamming over his eyes. “I don’t kill women. Go away.” He turned back to Callum.

“Don’t touch him!” I yelled, anger spiking as I rushed forward. I swiped the current from the air and tossed it at his back. It struck him between the shoulder blades and shoved him forward. Fast as lightning, he spun around and flung his arm out. Snow streaked across the distance between us and blasted me in the face.

I staggered backward, sputtering as ice crystals rushed into my nose and mouth. Just as I started to fall, a rough hand seized the front of my jacket and hauled me up. My toes scraped the ground as my vision cleared.

And filled with a thick brown beard and narrowed blue eyes. “You struck me,” Graeme growled.

I kicked, grateful for the boots that protected my toes as I made contact with his shins. I clawed at his fist under my chin. “I’ll do it again, asshole! Put me down!”

He grunted, but he showed no sign my struggles bothered him. He just stared at me as he dangled me in the air like a cartoon character. One of my braids flew up and slapped his jaw. Suddenly, he dropped me to the ground and stumbled back—and now the look in his eyes was unmistakable.

Fear.

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