Page 80 of Heart of Frost and Scars

That prompts a string of more questions, which leads to a full-on tutorial. I find myself pulling out my phone and following along.

Frankie showed us the basics of what these little electronic bricks can do, but we’ve only scratched the surface. I’m starving for more knowledge.

All I’ve ever known was a life of solitude and silence, broken only by the howl of the wind and the crunch of snow underfoot. Denver raised us to be tough, to rely on nothing and no one but ourselves.

Now I find myself on this lush, green island with comforts I never thought possible. The biggest change, the one that thrills me the most, is the technology. I went from no Internet or outside communication to holding all this power in a tiny computer that fits in the palm of my hand.

This phone opens up worlds I never knew existed. I can connect with Leo and Frankie anywhere, at any time.

The first time I browsed the Internet, it felt like magic. Information at my fingertips, answers to questions I didn’t even know I had. I can spend hours wending through the dark forest of videos about everything and nothing at all, diving into the endless sea of knowledge and entertainment.

Of course, I have my share of frustrations. The sheer volume of information overwhelms me quickly. When the constant connectivity is too much, I long for the simplicity of the tundra.

Then I remember the loneliness, the abuse, the endless hardship, and yeah…

Fuck that place.

The climate here is milder, the air saturated with the scent of saltwater and evergreen. Bustling towns wait nearby, with people and noise and activity. I can’t wait to explore them.

I also dread leaving the safety of the island. Without my crossbow or a grasp on the dangers out there, I don’t know how to protect her the way I could in the hills.

As the night wears on, the strain between Monty and us eases, if only for a short while. I find myself glancing at the time on my phone, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

“I’m going to check on her.” I stand and stalk toward the stairs.

The need to see her, to reassure myself that she’s safe, is a physical ache.

Monty and Leo rise as well, pocketing their phones and trailing after me.

We head upstairs, the house quiet and still. I push open the door to the guest bedroom, my heart pounding.

The bedside lamp casts a gentle glow on her stunning features. Deep in sleep, she looks so peaceful and untroubled.

Relief settles over me.

“Beautiful,” Leo whispers.

I grunt, spellbound.

Monty hovers in the doorway, wearing the stony expression of an overlord as we get ready for bed. As we prepare to sleep beside the woman he still considers his wife.

I strip down to my underwear, Leo doing the same.

We can shut him out and lock the door, but that would only lead to a brawl and disturb her rest.

She’ll be safe, sleeping between Leo and me. We’ll wake if anyone intrudes.

Careful not to disturb her, we slip in on either side of her. The warmth of her body instantly grounds me, her presence a balm to my frayed nerves.

“I’ll be across the hall if you need anything.” Monty steps back, his gaze glued to her, shadowed and turbulent with longing.

Then he turns away.

I shut off the light, and the room settles into heavy, tranquil quiet. I lie there, listening to the rhythmic sound of her breathing, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest.

The tension in my body slowly ebbs, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

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