Page 1 of Born of Ice

PART I

DEATH

Prologue

Electra

Swoosh. Gasp. Crack. Crunch.Cold.

So cold.

Ice. There’s ice everywhere, not just beneath me.

I’m plunging into it. It’s in me. I am ice. It flows through my blood, solidifying my bones and wrapping each thread of me in its frosty tentacles. I feel the frost bite sneaking around my heart, creeping onto it, so painfully slowly in a beautiful pattern like the ones you see on the windows in the dead of winter. Or inside the deep, frozen lake when you peer into it, searching for the unknown like a fool.

Beautiful. Magnetic. And cruel. So, cruel.

And now…so am I.

1

Friday can’t come fast enough

Electra

2 days before…

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Elle, happy birthday to you.” They all finish their crappy singing with howls and whistles and clapping and laughing their butts off at themselves. Because, let’s face it, we’re athletes, not singers and no matter how badly we try—or how much alcohol we consume—it won’t change.

“Make a wish! Make a wish,” Lisa squeaks, her short blonde curls jumping along with her as the candles all but melt all the way to the cake.

Quickly, I squeeze my eyes shut.

Let this betheyear. The one when I feel the weight of that gold medal on my neck and the other type of gold around my ring finger. This has to bethatkind of year. Please, universe. Mom.I mutter the words inside my head as quickly as I can and blow out the candles—all twenty-four of them—to another round of hollers and clapping and glasses clicking.

“So? What did you wish for?” Lisa asks as the rest of the crowd goes back to partying.

“Why are you even bothering with that question?” Our friend, Sam rolls his eyes at Lisa. “You could basically read the words on her forehead.” He uses his hands to punch the words into the air. “Win. The. Olympics.” And gives us all another eye roll.

“Ah,” I gasp and punch his shoulder good-naturedly. “You just jinxed us!”

“What can I say?” Sam shrugs, his blonde hair bouncing just as Lisa’s was and those blue eyes of his light up with mischief. “I want that gold just as much, and we all know you two are favored to win. So, yes, I’ll take all the help I can get.”

A warm set of familiar hands wraps around my bare waist, skimming underneath my breasts that are barely covered by a tiny, sequined top Erik loves. He pulls me into his hard, solid body as it shakes with silent laughter. “Let him have his jinx, Elle. The poor bastard needs to hold onto to some shred of hope.”

I smile at his words, as his hot breath fans over my neck, kissing me softly, and instantly, I melt into his touch. Like I always do.

“Oh, screw off. Lisa and I will give you hell for that first place.” Sam keeps going but I’m no longer listening, too consumed by my boyfriend, partner, and friend all wrapped in one.

“Please do,” Erik shoots back and kisses me with his arms still holding onto me, protectively. As if I am his precious doll.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of his love for me.

“Can we not talk about skating or the Olympics for one damn evening?” Pietro moans from the couch. “Or watch you two maul each other?” He points to us and my cheeks splash with a blush. You’d think they’d be used to this by now, seeing as we spend nearly all of our time together, training on the ice for five, six hours and then some more off the ice. And Erik and I have been dating from pretty much the first moment we laid eyes on each other.

“Jesus Christ, how did we end up with a bunch of jealous pricks for friends, sweetheart?” Erik jokes, and in answer Sam and Pietro give him the finger and now we’re all back to laughing.

When it comes to these people, I can’t say we necessarily chose each other but were rather thrown together about four years ago when our trainer—Filip Masso, who is a world-renowned retired skater himself—found us in different states and training facilities and took us under his wing, quickly forming one of the strongest figure skating houses in the world.

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