Page 27 of An Avalanche Hero Christmas

It was another moment before she heard his voice again. “Don’t mention it.”

She sucked in a breath. “Lance, putting yourself in danger for me—”

“I wonder if he will do that again,” said a familiar voice outside her line of sight.

“Mallory, get down!”

A large hand shoved her shoulder, knocking her aside. Something whizzed past her ear, and as it clanged against the rock behind her, it occurred to her that it was metallic. A weapon!

“I found you again, fae,” Boris the Fae Hunter declared. “Did you believe you could escape from me?”

The hand grabbed her wrist. Lance’s, she figured. Scrambling to their feet, they both darted out of the shadowy valley into the faint light afforded by the moon.

“There you are!” Boris snarled.

She spotted those green eyes moments before he stepped out of the shadows to their right. Boris looked the same as she remembered, clad in his coat and clutching those wicked blades. But in the moonlight, he looked absolutely terrifying, almost ghostlike. He drew closer, those eyes locked on hers, and Mallory felt a chill settle over her that had nothing to do with the weather.

Lance stepped in front of her. “Mallory, be prepared to run. I’ll hold him back for as long as I can.”

Boris chuckled. It was a gentle sound, which only made it all the more unsettling. “You amuse me. Are you this willing to sacrifice yourself for afae?”

“You can’t have her,” Lance told him, drawing his own blades. “I won’t let you.”

“Your sacrifices only make you look foolish. And soon, you will be dead because of them.”

With that, he lunged.

Lance moved at the same time, blades extended. Both men collided with a series of clangs and heavy thuds, weapons gleaming in the cold night. They moved fast, becoming a complete blur in Mallory’s vision. Between their grunts and the sound of blades clashing, Mallory's heart was in her throat. She stepped back as both men neared her, her entire body coursing with epinephrine as the details of her situation settled in, one after the other.

Boris had found her again. Lance was putting up a front despite not having yet fully recovered from his injuries, but Mallory had her doubts as to how long he would last. They’d barely survived the Fae Hunter’s last attack. And Lance was putting his life on the line for her—again.

“Get back, Mallory!” Lance growled. “It’s not safe!”

As if she needed him to tell her. This was the last place she wanted to be right now. But for some reason, she found herself rooted to the spot, either out of trepidation or a growing sense of guilt.

Boris lashed out with his blades, but Lance ducked then, sweeping his own weapons in a wide arc. With a bellow, the Fae Hunter lurched backward, and Mallory saw that Lance had targeted the man’s thighs. Boris recovered quickly, however, and delivered a kick that sent the fisherman stumbling backward. Lance crashed to the ground with a deep grunt.

The Fae Hunter suddenly whirled about to face Mallory, and she stifled a gasp.

“You,” he snarled. “You’re mine.”

He took a step toward her, a sinister gleam in his eyes, his blades at his sides. Before Mallory could move, he was on her, knocking her completely off balance. Pain flared in her skull asthe back of her head struck something like a rock. Bright spots danced before her eyes, and beyond them, she could just barely make out the raised blade of the man who had set out to take her life.

“No,” Mallory groaned. “Please.”

“I love it when your kind beg for your pathetic lives right before I drive my blades into your hearts,” the Fae Hunter told her, his sheer weight pinning her to the ground. “You fae should not exist. Death is all you deserve, you little—”

A deafening roar cut him off. One second, Boris was on top of her, his foul breath in her face, and the next thing she knew, he’d been lifted off her.

No,flung asidewas more like it. Something large had slammed into Boris and knocked him clear of her. The hunter sailed several feet and landed in the snow, partly cast in shadow. A groan escaped his lips, but he didn’t get up. He blinked instead at the creature that had attacked him.

“A shifter,” he spat.

Her head throbbing, Mallory followed his venomous gaze and spotted a polar bear standing barely three feet away from her, teeth bared. The creature was at least three times her size and almost twice Lance’s. As she watched, her vision fading, the bear charged at Boris.

It occurred to her then what was happening.

“Lance…” she whispered.

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