Page 22 of Frost
“They all wanted it.” Hans spits at my queen, his filthy spittle landing at her feet. She doesn’t even flinch.
Myskjaldmær.
As beautiful as it is to see my mate find her strength, I’ve had enough of Hans’ bullshit. Pulling from the water in the air, I will the crystals to solidify in my hand. More and more ice begins to form until I hold a very long, very sharp spear of ice.
“Last chance, Hans.” My tone drips with the promise of violence as I raise my weapon high. I may be a monster but all monsters are truly just warriors fighting for their own right to survive in a world where they’re not welcome. “Let. Her. Go.”
“Oh, fuck youand your self-righteous bullsh—”
Before the words even finish leaving his mouth, I take my shot. He throws his hand up in annoyance, high enough that when I throw, the icicle clears the head of his poor human shield without leaving a scratch on her. Clean in and out. The shard of ice slices through skin, flesh, and bone, leaving a clean through-and-through hole in his hand. We all sit in stunned silence for just a moment. Then all hell breaks loose.
“Hva faen?!” Hans shrieks as blood begins to ooze from the wound. The sight makes my cock twitch in my pants. I love watching the wicked bleed.
The icicle hits the filthy wall behind him, shattering into a million shimmering crystals. Red runs down his hand and air, staining the stone beneath him. He’s hurt but it’s just a flesh wound.
His death does not deserve to be quick.
“Run,” Elisa warns the girl who is able to swiftly spin fromHans’ grasp. He looks on in horror as his blood falls.
The girl takes off down the alley. The echoes of her footsteps bounce off the walls.
And then there were three.
FOURTEEN
ELISA
The air has turned frigid. Each breath slips from between my lips as white wisps of smoke. I watch as the poor girl stumbles out of the alley and into the safety of the busy streets beyond. He drugged her, attacked her, and tried to rape her.
That could have been me. It would have been me—if it weren’t for my monster, that is.
Rage boils inside me as I think about the way Hans has used countless women before me and intended to hurt countless more after me. He has no remorse, no sense of compassion for the humans he’s taken from. Jack’s right—this motherfucker’s reign of destruction ends tonight.
“You stole from me!” Hans rages as he cradles his bleeding hand.
“Me?” I ask, my mouth aghast at his boldness. “Where are my bags, Hans? They’re not truly lost, are they? You paid that woman to drug me and then planned to get me alone and assault me, didn’t you?”
His cold sneer is enough to send a shiver down my spine. “It’s easy enough to find sad foreign girls, desperately starved for attention, willing to believe the fantasy I’ve concocted for them. Such a weak-minded thing, youjenter, so desperate for a prince that you’ll let the wolf lead you straight to his den.”
Next to me, I feel Jack’s claws against my hand. Strong, reassuring, steady, and cold… very cold, in fact…
“Well, I guess it’s good for me then.” I take a step towards Hans. Then another. Closing the distance between us. “That the wolf is too hubris to realize he’s not the predator.” I stop when I’m close enough to see just how bloodshot his eyes are. “He’s the prey.”
With a single swift motion, I bring up the jagged chunk of ice that Jack deposited in my hand. The long, thin, flat chunk is awkward to hold but it gets the job done. I slide the sharp edge along the skin of Hans’ throat, leaving a thin red line across his flesh. His eyes go wide in horror. And then the blood begins to flow. A cascade of sticky warmth pours from where I struck him, a river of red staining the front of him.
“You did well,litill snær.” Jack’s imposing form stands beside me, staring as Hans places his hands on his throat, trying to stop the inevitable flow of blood. “But you didn’t get quite deep enough to sever the artery.”
“You mean, he’ll bleed out slowly?” My tone is sickly sweet and false. “What a shame.”
Jack’s responding chuckle has my stomach twisting with need. His darkness sets my soul aflame with desperate desire. We’re two halves of the same type of fucked up.
“What a wicked little creature you are,” he coos as his clawscaress my skin. Need pools between my thighs at his tender touch.
“Please, Daddy,” I whine as he skims his sharp claws up and down the column of my neck in the most achingly delightful way.
“Finish what you started, little one, then I will take you home and show you how good girls get rewarded.”
His words are depraved. He’s talking about murder as if it were a gift on Christmas Day. Maybe Hans’ death will be a gift, though—a gift to all the girls he’ll now never get the chance to harm.