Page 226 of Heart of Frost and Scars

I close my eyes, letting myself feel the depth of his love.

Too soon, he pulls away and walks out, leaving me standing alone in the empty room with a hollow ache in my chest and a lump in my throat.

Then I climb onto the bed, curl up in a ball, and cry.

50

Kodiak

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No guards stand outside the on-call room, which means she’s in the trauma unit. I’ll find her. But first, I need to smell, lick, and indulge.

Inside the room where she sleeps, I close the door, grab a pair of her leggings from the chair, and bury my face in the crotch.

Groaning, my eyes roll back in my head.

I lick the inside, lapping at the swath of fabric that rubs against her cunt. It’s not enough. Where are her panties?

Chewing on the garment, I scan the room, mindless, desperate.

She’s been living in this space for two weeks. I can’t sleep, can’t think, can’t fucking breathe without her and her intoxicating scent.

I drop the leggings and crawl onto the tiny bunk bed. My hands slide into the divot in the mattress left by her body. I inhale her sweat from the sheets and drag my face across her pillow.

Then I drop to my stomach and roll in her essence.

She would call me a caveman. But I’m more beast than man. I’m a predator. An animal.

I’m hers.

I press my nose against every piece of her I can find. Her bras. Her earbuds. Her lip balm on the nightstand.

I suck on her hair tie and pace into the bathroom.

Grabbing her toothbrush, I pop it in my mouth and step into the shower. Droplets of water cling to the walls. I collect the moisture in my hand and rub it across my face.

As I return the toothbrush, I spot a laundry bag on the floor behind the door. A temptation I can’t resist.

I spend some time in that bag, sniffing and gnawing on every enticing, Frankie-soaked pair of underwear.

Christ, I miss the taste of her, the sticky, wet feel of her against my mouth. I’m fucking starving without her.

With careful precision, I put the room back in order, returning everything where I found it.

Then I slip back into the hall and follow the scent of her trail.

The hills taught me the art of stalking, every movement calculated, every sense heightened. The biting cold honed my instincts, shaping me into the hunter I am.

Keeping to the shadows, I step silently, my footsteps muted against the hospital’s tiled floors. The antiseptic air does nothing to diminish her lingering essence.

Her sweet, cherry aroma reaches my nose before I hear her voice.

My heart pounds. I stay hidden, muscles bunched. My eyes scan the corridor, catching a glimpse of her red hair through a gap in an exam room door.

She pauses, sensing something, and glances over her shoulder.

My breath hitches, but I remain unseen, a shadow among shadows.

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