Page 22 of Jilted By Jack Frost

Jack’s tour of his realm has been breathtaking—from the crystal gardens where flowers bloom in ice to the market where winter sprites trade in shimmering goods. But now the twin moons hang high in the sky, casting their silvery light across the snow.

Jack walks beside me, his posture rigid, his gaze scanning the horizon. It’s like he’s expecting an attack at any moment, which, given the whole ‘fated mates’ and ‘potential ruin’ situation, might not be too far off.

It’s eerily beautiful, and I feel like I’m walking through a dream—a cold, confusing dream where I’m constantly torn between awe and a desperate need to get back home. I feel a sense of wonder at the world aroundme. It’s like stepping into a fairy tale, complete with a brooding, frost-covered prince. I snort at the thought, earning a sideways glance from Jack.

“Something amusing?” His voice carries the weight of an impending storm.

I shake my head, my breath turning to mist in the frigid air. “Just thinking about how this whole situation would make for one hell of a story back home.”

Jack’s lips tighten, and for a moment, I think I’ve pushed him too far. But then he surprises me with a soft chuckle. “I suppose it would. Though I doubt anyone would believe it.”

“Probably not,” I agree, my heart doing a little flip at the sound of his rare laughter. It’s rich, like the first ray of sun after a long winter’s night.

I sneak a glance at him, his profile etched sharply against the night sky. “So, uh, you come out here often?” I ask, trying to break the silence. “Or is this a special ‘show the new girl around’ kind of thing?”

He spares me a brief look, his icy blue eyes piercing even in the dim light. “I patrol my kingdom regularly.”

Right. Of course he does.

“We should head back now.” Jack’s voice carries that usual note of command.

I open my mouth to ask if we’re still walking, but he extends his hand. The gesture seems almost unconscious, like he’s forgotten his usual coldness toward me.

Don’t read too much into it, I tell myself. But my heart does that stupid flutter thing, anyway.

“I can transport us directly to the castle.”

“Thank fuck. My feet are killing me.”

His lips twitch, fighting what might have been a smile. “Such language.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you prefer if I said my feet are experiencing significant discomfort, Your Frostiness?”

Before he can respond, a low growl echoes through the trees. Jack’s entire demeanor shifts. His hand drops and he steps in front of me, his posture rigid.

“What was that?”

“Quiet.”

The growl grows louder, multiplying into a chorus of snarls. Dark shapes emerge from between the trees, their forms liquid shadow rather than flesh. My breath catches in my throat as more materialize, their eyes glowing with an eerie purple light.

Holy shit. Those aren’t normal wolves.

“Stay behind me,” Jack orders. For once, I don’t argue. I’ve seen enough movies to know that when the guy with supernatural powers tells you to get behind him, you do it.

The largest wolf, its shoulders reaching my chest, stalks forward. Its teeth flash—literal shards of ice in a mouth of shadows.

“Jack?” My voice comes out smaller than I mean it to.

The shadow wolves circle us. Their movements are fluid and unnatural. I count six—no, eight of them. Their bodies ripple like smoke, but their teeth gleam solid enough when they bare them.

Ice crystals form in the air around us, catching the moonlight. The temperature plummets so rapidly my teeth chatter. Jack raises his hands, and theground beneath our feet freezes solid in expanding circles of intricate patterns.

The largest wolf lunges. Jack’s arm sweeps up, and a wall of ice erupts from the ground, catching the creature mid-leap. It shatters into wisps of darkness, reforming seconds later.

“Fuck,” I breathe, pressing closer to Jack’s back.

Two more wolves attack from different directions. Jack spins, dragging me with him. A blast of arctic wind throws the creatures back. Ice forms around their legs, but they dissolve through it like smoke.

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