Page 14 of A Secret Crush Valentine's

“YouareMr. Popular, after all.”

“Wait, what are you—?”

He was cut short by a deafening bang. One of the customers had slammed a table with his fist, causing his drink to spill.

“They’re a terror around these parts, those Collectors,” he said. “I tell you, they’re even worse than dragons.”

Damon held his breath, listening intently. The man was sharing the table with two other middle-aged men, both burly and bearded. He’d had enough experience in taverns across Frost Mountain to know that these were the type of guys you gave a wide berth. No one else in the bar seemed to care about the noise the man was making. They opted to mind their own business instead.

One of the other men at the table, a man with a ginger beard, raised his mug to his lips. “They’re not worse than dragons because a lot of themaredragons, like Grim Jim.”

Damon felt his left eye twitch once, then twice.

The man’s companions stared at him for a moment in what appeared to be awe. Damon realized a moment later that it was simply ignorance.

“Who is that?” one of them asked.

The ginger-bearded man blinked at him with the same incredulousness that Damon felt. “You mean you know who the Collectors are but not their leader?” He shook his head, took a long sip, and sighed. “Can’t blame the lot of you, anyway. To many, Grim Jim is nothing but a myth. But he’s real, I tell you.”

He glanced around the bar for a moment before he went on. Damon almost breathed a sigh of relief when the man’s gaze merely passed him by.

“Grim Jim is, as they say, the most powerful dragon on this mountain. Some say he’s been alive since Frost Mountain came into being. Yes,centuries. From what I’ve heard, he was amongthe shifters who fought against the witches during the war and was cursed for daring to stand up against them.”

“Cursed?” The two other men and just about half the entire bar had leaned in closer, eager to hear what the ginger-bearded man had to say.

The storyteller nodded slowly, clearly enjoying the attention his story was getting. “He was cursed withlife. Centuries ago, he roamed the mountain. They called him the Ice Melter then, but 50 years ago, he retreated to a place on the mountain where no one would find him… a dragon’s den, if you will.”

A collective gasp swept through the bar. Damon saw the man’s chest swell a little as he reached for his mug again.

“In that den, his hunger grew—a hunger for all things rare on Frost Mountain. He loved to collect treasures, even if that meant stealing possessions and people. It’s why he created the Collectors.

“We are all lucky he’s using them now. If Grim Jim were to come out of his den, the skies would blacken, and all would suffer. The Ice Melter cannot be killed, and he is… insatiable.” The man shuddered.

The customer who’d banged the table earlier muttered something that Damon could not hear and reached for his drink.

Damon’s jaw clenched. He could feel his heart hammering outside his chest and wondered if anyone else in this tavern was experiencing the same. Probably not. He was the only Collector in here, the only one who could verify the story the man had just told.

It was true, all of it. Damon was surprised by how accurate the man’s tale was. What the man had failed to mention was that Grim Jim went by another name that was twice as unsettling and that he had his ways of getting his Collectors to stay in line. Not to mention the fact that he was the most terrifying being any of the Collectors had ever known.

Even more surprising was how uneasy Damon had become in the last minute. The mention of Grim Jim was enough to raise the hairs on anyone’s neck. For Damon, it was even worse. He had good reason to be terrified.

He glanced at Julia, who’d been watching the storyteller with the same confusion and curiosity as the rest of the listeners, and his heart sank into his stomach. If only she knew she was next on Grim Jim’s list of treasures. As far as Damon could tell, there would soon be trouble, and she would be at the center of it.

The last thing he wanted was for Julia to be involved in any of this, but here they were.

Damon balled his fists. The dilemma that had plagued him for hours faded into a single resolution: He wouldnotlet anything happen to her.

But if he hoped to protect Julia, he was going to have to act fast and act smart. He couldn’t run forever. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes. There were Collectors everywhere. He had to get to Caprichor as quickly as he could because if he didn’t, then it was only a matter of time until that storm came for him—and Julia.

Chapter Six

The Marauders

Most people dreamed of falling. Not Julia. She dreamed of drowning.

The way she saw it, drowning was a thousand times more terrifying than falling. The majority of the time, falling from great heights meant instant death, maybe even a painless one. Drowning often meant being fully alert and fighting for your life as it slowly and painfully escaped you.

She was agonizingly aware of water, water, everywhere; water so cold it stung her body. The pressure grew as she sank deeper from the surface of the lake, gazing hopelessly at the section of the ice that had shattered just moments ago.

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