Page 11 of A Mountain Man Christmas

“Everyone thinks the same when they learn about this place. But Frost Mountain is what it is. If you want to survive here, you’ll have to accept that.”

Lyla was silent for a moment. “So this mountain really has no bottom.”

Tristan shook his head, then realized she couldn’t see him. “No. The mountain is all there is. It doesn’t matter how far you travel. You can’t get off this mountain. It’s very powerful…”

“Magic,” they said in unison.

“Of course,” she groaned.

They lay side by side on the rocky ground, gazing up through the darkness at the roof of the small cave they’d found a little less than an hour ago. The faint smell of smoke filtered into Tristan’s nostrils. They’d started a fire earlier for some warmth, but he’d put it out, fearing that his pursuers might spot the flames and locate him. The kindling pyramid lay near the cave entrance, little more than a pile of charcoal and wisps of smoke.

“You must be hungry,” he said into the ensuing silence.

“I’ve got a couple more protein bars left,” came the response.

He had no idea what that meant, so he reached under his coat with his free hand, withdrawing a small parcel from its pocket and handing it to her. “Here. It’s meat. Caught and roasted it yesterday.”

He felt the tension that came over her then, although they were barely touching.

“I’d eat if I were you,” he told her. “If it were poisoned, I wouldn’t be carrying it around with me.”

After another few seconds’ hesitation, she took the parcel from him, and he heard a rustle as she unwrapped it.

“Tell me more about Frost Mountain,” she asked. “It’s clearly not on Earth if my guess is correct.”

“No, Frost Mountain is a separate dimension on its own.”

“A dimension? I mean, of course. This just keeps getting better. How did I even get here? One second, I was flying over Nebraska, and then—”

“You must have seen the portal.”

Another moment of silence. “Portal?”

“There are portals all over your world,” he said. “They lead into this dimension—they have for centuries. You aren’t the first to arrive on Frost Mountain. Humans and supernaturals alike have found themselves here, having slipped or fallen through a portal.”

“So our plane got here through a portal?” The shackles clinked as she raised her other hand. “Wait a minute. If there’s a portal, why can’t we get off this mountain? I mean, all we have to do is…” She trailed off, which he figured meant realization had dawned on her. “The portals only go one way, don’t they?”

He nodded. “Indeed. No one leaves Frost Mountain, no matter what. This dimension is more than a home to the souls unfortunate enough to find themselves here. It is a prison.”

“Awhat, now?”

Tristan ground his teeth. Was she ever going to stop bombarding him with questions? If he were going to get any rest, it wouldn’t be with her shackled to him and pressuring him to speak. He could practically sense her next to him, lying patiently in anticipation of a response.

“A prison.” He drew a breath. “Frost Mountain is a creation of dark, powerful magic. A band of witches brought it into being. There was…a war. Shifters—many of our ancestors, I mean—against the witches. As you can already guess, our ancestors lost. As punishment, they were exiled to this dimension, doomed to spend the rest of their lives on a freezing mountain with no way out.

“Frost Mountain was designed to hold the shifters at the time prisoner. But over the centuries, entire generations have livedhere. Not to mention people pouring in from your world on a daily basis.”

He wondered what thoughts were circling that calculating mind of hers. If he had to guess, she was probably already plotting some kind of escape from Frost Mountain, determined to prove him wrong and get back to her old life. Tristan suppressed a snort. He’d met people like her before—stubborn, defiant, a thorn in his side. Once she was free of him, she’d continue heading down the mountain in hopes of finding a bottom. Within days, she’d be a corpse buried underneath two feet of snow.

“I’m going to assume you don’t welcome many witches around here,” Lyla said after a few seconds of silence.

Tristan flinched at her words. “No.”

Hewisheda witch would cross his path. He’d never been one for murder, but a part of him knew without doubt that he would not hesitate to take out a witch if he ever saw one. Their kind was responsible for Frost Mountain.That, and his current predicament, if itwasthe curse that had reared its head the other night.

It wasn’t enough that the shifters had lost the war against the witches all those years ago. No, a few unlucky ones had been left parting gifts—curses that would haunt the shifters for generations to come. Tristan remembered the story his mother told him and Ariadne had been passed down over the years. One of their ancestors, Anton Harrison, had cornered a witch but hesitated to kill her on the spot. In return, the witch had cursed him and his entire bloodline.

The curse had begun to manifest barely a month after the shifters were exiled to Frost Mountain. In the dead of night, while his friends lay asleep, Anton had shifted against his will into a wolf. Only it was no ordinary wolf. Grotesque and bloodthirsty, he’d gone on a rampage. By the time morningcame, he lay alone in a clearing, surrounded by crimson snow and the bodies of the friends he had ripped apart.

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