Page 8 of A Snowed in Valentine's

But he tried to kill her before. Why would he spare her life now?

That was only one of the many unanswered questions that flashed through her mind. She had to get out of here, away from this man, and figure out how to undo whatever he’d done to her.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Daphne had no idea what to do. She’d stepped into uncharted territory the second she breached the portal and found herself on Frost Mountain. Maybe coming here had been wrong.

You think?said a voice in her head.

“You’re not going anywhere,” her captor told her, sitting down in his seat completely bare. He sat facing her, apparently unashamed of his nakedness, which afforded her a distracting view of his package. She shifted her gaze ever so slightly, focusing instead on his powerful thigh muscles. The man was built like Mr. Universe.

Those obsidian eyes continued to bore into her, telegraphing their intent.

Her throat constricted. Was it fear or something else?

She never got the chance to figure that out. Her head throbbed again, and her vision blurred. Her confrontation with her captor had drained her of the little energy she had left. She sank back onto the small bed, and her eyes slid shut as she slipped back into unconsciousness.

***

She was still lying on a bed when she reopened her eyes. Only she wasn’t in the cabin anymore. She knew this because there were no wooden rafters above her. Instead, a ceiling fan spun slowly, making a soft whirring sound.

“Wha…?”

Beep! Beep!

The sound jerked her into a sitting position. Still bleary-eyed, Daphne reached out and smacked the alarm clock on the bedside table, cutting off the sound. She sank back onto her pillows witha yawn. Her body felt unusually weak. She could use some more rest. Maybe in a few hours…

Wait. Pillows? Alarm clock?

Her eyes snapped open, and she rubbed them once, then twice, certain that she was seeing double. The ceiling fan continued spinning overhead. Slowly, she sat up again and looked around. She was in a bedroom much larger than the one she’d been in just moments ago. This one was more modern, with fluorescent bulbs and windows overlooking the street outside. An egg chair sat in the corner adjacent to a bookshelf.

This can’t be real.

It was her apartment—in Vegas.

“I’m dreaming, right?” she said aloud with a nervous chuckle. “This is some kind of weird dream.”

Hadn’t she been on Frost Mountain just a few minutes ago? Daphne scanned her memory. Yes, she’d boarded a plane headed for Chicago and performed a spell mid-flight. The plane had come apart. She’d ended up on Frost Mountain and gotten captured by a sexy shifter whose presence seemed to excite her as much as terrify her.

So how the heck had she gotten back here?

Definitely a dream.

Or had she simply dreamed the part about landing on Frost Mountain?

She shook her head and started to get out of bed, but the sight of a book on her nightstand made her freeze.

“The Book of Nyx,” she said in a hushed whisper.

Okay, what on Earth was going on?

If this were a dream, it was a very convincing one. She started to reach for the grimoire and froze, her gaze riveted on the back of her hand.

Across it was a boldK.

“Oh, no.”

A crash in the distance made her gasp. She shot to her feet and bolted from the bedroom, heading for her front door. She wrenched it open just in time to see a squat, grey-haired woman across the hallway grumbling to herself outside her apartment door.

“Mrs. Elliot?” Daphne questioned.

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