Page 154 of Heart of Frost and Scars

I would give anything to put my hands on her gorgeous body again.

She moves like a moonbeam on water, gliding with natural, effortless grace. There’s something magical about her. Her poise, her determination, the fluidity of her movements. She’s not just insanely sexy. She’s alluring in a way I can neither describe nor ignore.

We walk in silence, the crunch of gravel under our feet. The island, dewy from the earlier rain, seems to hold its breath, waiting for something.

“I can’t believe Leo and Kody are in jail,” she says, breaking the quiet. “After fighting so hard for their freedom. I was afraid this would happen. Their tempers…They’re too feral for this world.”

“They’ll adjust. They need time.”

“I just…” Her shoulders sag. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Entering her passcode, she breezes into the guest house and up the stairs. I follow, growing uncomfortable with each step. This may be my house, but it’s her space. The space she shares with them.

In the upstairs bedroom, she tosses the goggles and the tiny camera on the bed.

“I’ll just be a second.” She slips into the closet and shuts the door.

One of her discarded shirts drapes over the chair. I grab it, pressing it against my face and inhaling. Christ, her scent. Cherry, vanilla, and something uniquely Frankie consume my senses, grounding me.

The closet door opens. “Do you care about them?”

“What?” I drop the garment.

“Leo and Kody.” She steps out, wearing sleep shorts and a tight little tank top, looking absolutely edible.

Do I care about Leo and Kody?

I consider the question, really think about it. To do that, I separate them from her, imagine them single and navigating the world after a lifetime of isolation and abuse.

Their struggles aren’t why I’m rooting for them.

It’s their fight, their snarling, brawling, driven natures to get back on their feet every time they’re knocked to their knees. That warrior spirit is something I can get behind. I want to see them succeed and will do everything in my power to help them.

“Yeah.” I delve into the haunting depths of her eyes. “I don’t want anything to happen to them. They matter to me.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re mine. My family.”

Her eyes soften, glowing with unguarded warmth. If I were an optimistic man, I would interpret that as a look of a woman falling back in love with her husband. But I know we have a long way to go.

“Let’s go sit on the oceanside balcony,” I say, “and drink under the stars.”

“Okay.”

Back at the main house, we step out onto the grand balcony with our drinks in hand. The summer rain washed the air clean, leaving a balminess that clings to the skin.

The diamond glimmer of countless stars punctures the sky, the ocean a dark, undulating mass beneath us. The pounding waves resonate with the turbulence in my chest.

She sits beside me, all that red hair tangling around her in the warm breeze. The gap between us feels like an ocean, though she’s only an arm’s reach away.

“Monty.” She draws in a breath. “I need to talk about the call I got tonight.”

“Go on.” Dread churns, always there.

“Some of the things that electronic voice said, calling you Daddy Strakh…”

My heart pounds, a primal urge to protect her roaring to life. But her next words cut the deepest.

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