Page 122 of Heart of Frost and Scars

Closing my eyes, I mentally bottle the storm, each ragged breath pushing it down. With each slow exhale, I will my heartbeat to steady, each beat shoving me away from the precipice. The snarl fades. The seethe ebbs. I bury it deep where it won’t consume me.

“Where’s Kody?” She places a clammy palm on my cheek, shaking on my lap.

“He’s with Monty at Tipsy Sailor.” I draw a finger down her cheek, tracing the rigid line of her jaw. “They’re negotiating with the owner. Monty is trying to buy it for Kody.”

As I explain the tour of the distillery and conversation with Pilip, her eyes widen with fresh terror, the panic building.

“He’s alone with Monty.” A tremor runs through her, driving her fingernails into my shoulders. Her breathing quickens, short and shallow gasps chopping her words. “What if that was Monty’s plan all along? To get Kody alone?”

“Frankie.” I take her face in my hands, trying to catch her gaze. “Look at me.”

“We have to call Kody. Warn him.” Her eyes dart around the room, unfocused and frantic. “No, wait. We can’t. Monty would know I told you. If Kody leaves, Monty will know. He might try to hurt him.”

This woman. This brave, stunning, stubborn goddamn woman.

She held herself together for the past couple of hours, talking to Rhett while pretending she didn’t have threatening messages on her phone. She maintained her composure throughout the evening, refusing to call and put us in danger.

She dealt with it without freaking out.

Until now.

Not because she fears for her own life but because she’s worried about Kody.

I should redden her ass for choosing to protect us over herself.

“Listen to me.” I hold her head, forcing her gaze on mine. “Kody is a mean son of a bitch. He smells danger coming from a mile away.”

She’s not listening, too panicked to process what I’m telling her, the hysteria coming in too strong.

Her chest heaves rapidly as she clenches her teeth, trying to keep it together, but the signs are there. Her fingers scrape against my skin, her body tensing like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“Eyes on me.” I harden my tone, sounding harsher than I intend. “Breathe with me, love.”

She finally obeys, the liquid depths of her gaze swimming with fear, pupils dilated, her face devoid of color.

“We’ll figure this out.” I wrap my arms around her trembling body, pulling her pelvis tightly against mine. “Right now, you need to breathe. Focus on me.”

Her heart pounds against my chest, her breathing erratic, falling apart.

“Feel me.” I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her mouth, trying to calm her.

Her lips open against mine, soft and pliant, but the tension in her posture remains.

“Breathe in. And out.” With my mouth against hers, I breathe with her, for her, ordering her lungs over and over again until she matches my rhythm.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper between kisses and breaths.

“How? How will it be okay?”

“Don’t know yet, but I’m working on it. Need you to trust me.”

She clings to my neck, her fingers stabbing my back, her nerves fraying and breaking. Tears swell in her eyes, the bitter tang of her fear piercing the air.

My heart panics at the sight of her in pain. The chance this might escalate into a full-blown panic attack tears at me.

Emotions bubble up in her chest, pushing against the back of her throat, choking her. She wheezes, clawing at my neck.

“No, no, stay with me.” I kiss her again, deeper this time, hungrier, more demanding.

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