Page 17 of Jilted By Jack Frost

“But you don’t know for sure, right? Which means it’s worth a shot?”

I hesitate for a long moment. “Yes,” I say finally, opening my other eye and leaning forward. I take a small drink from my glass before setting it on my desk. “Yes, I suppose it is worth a try.”

When I stay seated, Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“I’m waiting for tomorrow.”

He balks. “Any particular reason why? You couldn’t wait to get her out of your hair two minutes ago.”

“Why? Because for now, sheisout of my hair. I just walked out of the lion’s den, my advisor. I’d be a fool to go back in so soon.”

He blows out a long breath, but nods. “Very well. Tomorrow, then.”

“Sure.”

Gabriel doesn’t move.

I raise an eyebrow. “Is there something else?”

He shakes his head.

I flick my gaze from his face to the door, then back again. “Then you’re dismissed. No need to linger, Advisor.”

His shoulders tense, but he nods and turns, leaving without another word.

I take a sip of my whisky and my mind drifts to picture Violet, her hair cascading over her shoulders, those eyes sparkling with mischief. My cock twitches, and I shift, suddenly aware of how fucking hard I am.

I imagine her lips, soft and full, whispering my name. Her hands sliding over my chest, tracing the contours of my body. I clench my jaw, suppressing a groan as I think about what those hands could do. WhatIcould do toher.

I want to taste her, feel her warmth, hear her moans as I touch her. I let out a slow breath, my eyes closing as the fantasy takes hold. My cock strains against my pants, begging for release. Fuck, I need to see her. Now.

I sink back into my chair, releasing the air in my lungs until they burn before breathing in again.

And I keep doing it until I stop thinking of her.

Chapter nine

Violet

Jack slips into the library earlier than usual the next morning.

I wish I could still be pissed at him for being such an asshole yesterday—but hypocrisy doesn’t suit me well. So instead of telling him to fuck right off, I waggle my fingers at him and wink. “Someone missed me.”

“Not even a little bit,” he responds coldly, but he strides toward me with his eyes locked on mine, and the frosty feeling around my heart tightens. “I’m just hoping we’ve found a way to get rid of you, after all.”

Jack wraps an icy hand around my wrist, tugs me toward him, and suddenly—

I can’t see or hear or smell or feel. I just know that I Am. I exist, I’m real, and yet I am not. I have becomea version of myself that does not exist and yet has not ceased to exist either. This, I think, is what it feels like to be infinite. To be nothing at all. To be—

I heave in deep breaths as my legs give out beneath me and I fall to the ground, my body all at once sore and feeling new. I’m half-convinced that I’m about to throw up. Every one of my senses that used to feel normal has now been overwhelmed, and I wait until I settle back into my body, until being tied to one no longer feels strange.

I ask the question to the empty room, even though I know I’ll get no answer.

“What in the flyingfuckjust happened?”

Hours.

Literal hours, ones that feel like months all on their own, pass. I’ve long since given up on trying to read any of the dozens of books stacked around me—I can’t think of anything other than Jack. Or, more specifically, what the hell it is he did (ortriedto do) to me earlier this morning.

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