Page 15 of An Avalanche Hero Christmas

It had been five nights and four days since he’d stumbled on Mallory, and her safety remained at the forefront of his mind before even his concerns about the situation. It was dangerous and might get him killed, but he was going to take her to his cabin, away from Boris. It was an impossible feat—no one had ever outrun Boris—but he would try.

It occurred to him as he and the fae woman resumed their journey across the flatbed of snow that perhaps he simply had a penchant for danger. Here he was, doing the very thing he had vowed never to do again, knowing the dangers associated with it and doing it anyway. A tiny voice prodded the back of his mind:Do you not care about yourself?

Maybe I’m just charmed by her beauty.

The thought filled his chest with a sudden warmth, and he cut a sideways glance at her. He had to admit, he’d been enamored by Julia as well, and he’d let his guard down. A big mistake. Was that how it was with fae? Or was he simply looking for reasons to justify his terrible choices?

His gaze drifted to the scar on his arm. Two years ago, he’d bled into the snow. All that was left of the injury Henri had inflicted on him was this jagged mark. That, and the memories that had come with the man’s daughter. Lance wondered where they were now. Were they still alive? Or—the thought made his insides clench—had they somehow fallen prey to Boris the Fae Hunter?

“I’m still hungry,” Mallory grumbled next to him.

Lance chuckled, grateful for the distraction from his thoughts. “We just ate.”

She gave a half-shrug, her beautiful eyes flicking to him and then to the path ahead of them. “I’m still hungry,” she repeated. “And I’m tired. I’ve been in a calorie deficit ever since I stepped foot on this mountain. Well, crashed is more like it.”

She stopped and leaned heavily against a tree, and Lance reluctantly did the same, shaking his head. “You complain a lot.”

“It’s kind of therapeutic, you know,” she panted. “People do it a lot. You should give it a try sometime.”

“When you’ve lived your whole life on Frost Mountain, you learn to survive.” He smirked. “And you cannot survive by complaining.”

“You’re tellingmeabout survival.” She gave a scoff. “In my world, I’ve had to hide my wings all my life so I wouldn’t get pulled apart and examined in some creepy lab. Or, worse, end up trending on TikTok as some freak of nature.”

Sadness flickered in her eyes. Lance stared at her but said nothing, feeling as though any word he uttered might be the wrong one.

“You say this place—Frost Mountain—is a trap, a prison. But you get to be yourself. I bet you could shift into a polar bear now, and no one would give a rat’s rear end. But in my world, living around humans, supernaturals don’t have that privilege. It’s not that easy. Especially for fae. I can’t spread my wings back home or even on this mountain because the second I do, there’s some maniac trying to put my head on his trophy wall.”

They stood in silence for the next few seconds. Then, before Lance could come up with anything to say, she spoke again.

“Look,” she said, “I’m grateful for your help. Really. Especially since you don’t even like me. I couldn’t have made it this farwithout you. I’m sorry I snapped. I guess I just haven’t really had time to calm down. Everything’s happening so suddenly.”

“It’s okay,” he told her. Then: “You can have some more food. But you’ll need to be quick. It won’t be long before night falls. We need to find some shelter so that—”

His next few words never made it out of his mouth. A piercing whistle cut through the air. A second later, something whizzed past his ear, embedding itself into the tree behind him.

Lance cut his gaze to the blade that had missed his ear by a mere inch.

Then he stared past his wide-eyed fae companion to the man who had thrown it.

“He’s found us,” Mallory breathed.

Trouble had arrived.

Chapter Seven

Oh, What Fun It Is to…Jump!

Mallory heard the sound of snow crunching beneath large boots as the Fae Hunter drew closer. He was barely twenty feet away, she guessed, and gradually closing in. How had they not heard him until now? He must have been treading as carefully as possible. The thought sent a chill through her body, though she was wearing a coat. Just how long had Boris had them in his sights?

Quick as lightning, Lance lunged at her. Before she could scream, he grabbed her, pulling her away from the tree. She stood panting behind him now, peeking around his wide back at the threat that had just appeared.

Boris looked the same as the last time she’d seen him. Same large coat. Same bushy brown beard flaked with snow. The same green eyes that promised one thing and one thing only: It was the end of her life.

She stared into those eyes, feeling as though she was staring into the depths of death itself. This was it. Boris had found them. Or had he been trailing them all along, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal himself? The second possibility left her feeling even more uneasy.

“Boris,” Lance said with surprising steeliness. “You don’t have to do this.”

The Fae Hunter took a few steps closer, then planted his feet in the snow. His gaze shifted to the blade still lodged in the tree trunk. Then his eyes drifted back to Mallory as though Lance wasn’t even in the picture.

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