Page 21 of Jilted By Jack Frost

“Thank you,” she whispers, clutching the journal to her chest. “This is... no one’s ever understood this part of me before.”

The warmth in my chest threatens to crack the ice I’ve carefully maintained for centuries. I take a step back, but I can’t look away from the joy in her eyes, which pierces straight through my defenses. Her fingers continue tracing the frost patterns, and instead I find myself stepping closer, drawn by her wonder. The scent of her—vanilla and something uniquelyher—fills my senses.

“The anatomical patterns,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “They’re based on ancient texts from when magic and medicine were one discipline.”

Violet looks up, and I realize how close we are. Her breath catches, forming a small cloud in the cold air between us. The moonlight catches in her eyes, turning them to liquid emeralds.

Step back. Turn away. Remember the prophecy.

But I don’t move. Neither does she.

“Jack...” Her voice is barely a whisper. My name on her lips like that ignites something fierce inside me, a sensation I haven’t felt in centuries.

I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Frost crystals form where my fingers graze her skin, thenmelt instantly from her warmth. She leans into my touch, ever so slightly.

This is madness. She’ll destroy everything.

Yet I find myself leaning down, drawn to her like a compass finding true north. Her eyes flutter closed.

“Fuck.” Violet jerks back suddenly, clutching the journal tighter. “Fuckity, fuck,fuck.”

The moment shatters. I straighten, forcing my expression neutral despite the riot of emotions beneath my skin.

“Eloquent as always.”

“Shut up.” She runs a hand through her hair, pacing. “I can’t... Alana’s out there somewhere in that blizzard you mentioned. My whole town’s in chaos, and I’m here almost kissing the damn Winter King like some fucking fairy-tale princess.”

The mention of her friend sobers me instantly. “The storm is unnatural.”

“No shit.” She whirls to face me. “You said you didn’t cause it. So who did?”

“That’s what concerns me.” I gesture to a nearby bench, carved from pure ice. “There are very few beings with power over winter, and none should be able to affect your realm so directly.”

Violet sits, her leg bouncing with nervous energy. “Could it be connected to the warming here?”

“Perhaps.” I remain standing, needing the distance. “Both events are unprecedented.”

“I need to get back.” She looks up at me, determination replacing the earlier vulnerability. “Even temporarily. Just long enough to make sure Alana’s safe.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Make it simple.” The fire in her eyes could melt glaciers. “You got there. Figure out how to take me with you.”

“And risk killing you in the process?” The ice beneath my feet crackles with my rising anger. “The last attempt nearly tore you apart.”

“Then we keep looking.” She stands, squaring her shoulders. “There has to be something in those books. Some way to—”

Her voice catches, and I see the exhaustion she’s been hiding beneath her stubborn facade. Dark circles rim her eyes, and the worry for her friend weighs heavily on her shoulders. She’s been pushing herself too hard, refusing to acknowledge her own limits.

“We’ll return to the library,” I concede, knowing she won’t back down. The determination in her eyes reminds me why she’s lasted this long in my realm. “But first, you need rest. Your body can’t sustain this pace forever.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, but her arms wrap around herself, betraying her discomfort. “I’m getting cold though. Let’s walk. Show me more. The movement will warm me up, and I need time to think.”

Chapter eleven

Violet

My legs ache from all the walking we’ve done today.

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