Page 8 of Heart of Frost and Scars

“Keep her safe.”

“Always.” He swats me away, but the look he shoots me echoes the concern pulsing through my veins.

Her fear of flying could materialize into a full-blown panic attack.

He’ll alert me if that happens.

Bending down, I steal another kiss from her. Then I turn and make my way to the cockpit.

Even though I’m leaving her in Kody’s capable hands, my role as her protector never leaves me.

“Frankie.” I pause with my hand on the door. “I’m putting my trust in Monty to get us there safely. But make no mistake. If he looks at me wrong or if this becomes too much for you, I’ll turn this plane around myself.”

My words are a vow, carved from the depths of my savage commitment to her.

3

Kodiak

—

As Leo disappears into the cockpit, I swallow my nerves and keep my attention on Frankie.

She clutches the armrests of her seat, her fingers stiff and pale.

The plane hasn’t even started its taxi to the runway, and her eyes already dim beneath ghosts of anxiety. She tries to hide it with a brave smile, but it’s not working.

The distant tinkling of glass and subtle movements from the nook in the front signal the presence of a crew member.

They haven’t closed the air stair door yet. I can still carry her off.

“Hey.” I crouch beside her, meeting her stark gaze with a steady one of my own. “Give me one good reason not to throw you over my shoulder and haul you out of here like a caveman.”

“Because I secretly enjoy the caveman act and might start thinking it’s the only way to travel.”

“Woman, I’ll always be your caveman.”

A small, nervous breath escapes her, wrapped in curved lips.

Stunning.

I need to strap her in, but the seat she chose puts her back to the cockpit.

“Is this where you want to sit?” I glance around, counting. “There are five other options plus that three-person divan.”

“If we crash, no seat is safe.”

“The chance of crashing twice in three days is extraordinarily rare, verging on statistically improbable. For once, the odds are in our favor.”

“Good answer, handsome.” She runs the backs of her fingers along my jaw. “Even so, will you sit across from me so I can look into your eyes when we become an improbable statistic?”

Christ. My chest constricts.

Her fear is instinctual, a deep-rooted dread that even the bravest can’t easily shake off.

“I know it’s hard, but I need you to try something for me.” I take her seat belt in my hands, beginning the familiar ritual of securing her in. “Focus on the here and now, not on what could happen. You control this moment, not your fear.”

“Okay.” She squares her shoulders. “I’ll try.”

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