Page 33 of Gifted to the Frost King

A roar rips through the forest, sending birds and other animals scattering.

Its white fur blends into the snow as it races towards us with imperceptible speed. Its maw yawns open as it leaps through the air with claws and fangs extended.

17

THE FROST KING

The beast and him agree for the first time in centuries: save Dove.

He melted away and let the beast rise to the surface, ready to fight. The need to spill blood pours through his veins. All the beast knows iskill, kill,kill. To save her, he must succumb to this loathsome part of himself. He must give in to the primal urge to claw, bite, and rip apart.

It is the part of him she is repulsed by—she may hate him after seeing what he is capable of. It matters little as long as she is alive.

Keep her safe, keep her safe, keep her safe.

His hands meet fur and warm muscles. Blood spills up his arms and across his body, but he doesn’t feel it. The sting of claws and bites barely registers to the beast.

Over and over, he fights it. Two monsters clashing in a deathmatch over the most precious prize. He will not lose when she is on the line.

The bear gives one final howl as he punches deep into its throat. With a tug, the meaty sound of flesh hitting thesnow reaches his ears: the white bear crumbles, its fur stained crimson.

A familiar voice begs to be let out—for him to remember who he is—but the beast is in complete control.

He pushes it far into the darkness, where its pleading can no longer reach him.

18

DOVE

The scene before me is nothing short of carnage.

Puddles of red blood lie atop the snow. The bear is a pile of ripped muscle and broken bones. Its body hasn’t moved since the King ripped out its throat. The squelching sound of it will haunt my dreams for years to come.

Now it is Frosty and I alone in the clearing once more. He merely stares at me, the feral gleam in his eye letting me know his beast is in control. The thick muscles of his chest and shoulders rise and fall with each labored breath. His skin is sallow—not the vibrant blue I’ve come to expect.

“Frosty,” I whisper.

He merely blinks at me, his mouth opening to show two distended fangs.

“Frosty, it’s me. Dove. You remember.”

A light sparks in his eyes. His shoulders sag, and for a moment, I hope the beast is releasing his control. Only to have it shatter instantly as his face twists into a snarl. His clawed hands extend towards me as he advances at inhuman speed.

I hold my ground, even as my whole body begins to tremble.

“Stop,” I command. “You know me. I know you do. Remember who you are—the male you are.”

He snarls again, his hands falling to my waist. Claws nearly pierce through the wool of my dress. Glowing eyes bore down at me. It isn’t until my back hits the base of an evergreen tree that I realize he was moving me. I stare up at him as my heart pounds painfully.

“That male is gone,” he growls, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard.

“No, he’s not,” I urge.

“I should punish you.” His hands grip me harder. The tip of his nose nearly brushes mine. “You make him feel.”

Lifting my trembling hands, I let instinct guide me. My palms cup his cold cheeks. He snarls but doesn’t push me away. I feel the puff of his breath against my lips. A delicious thrill runs through me at our proximity. There has to be a way for me to reach Frosty—to encourage him to take his power back from the beast.

“Come back to me,” I whisper, my thumbs smoothing over his skin. “I know you can hear me. Please.”

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