Page 35 of Fated to the Frost King

Every part of my body was charged as a result of the shards-damned marriage bond, and I was so tired of its effect on me. Tired, period.

I placed a hand on his chest, ignoring the lightning that seared from the contact, and shoved him as I moved to stand. He raised a single eyebrow before stepping back, hesitating just long enough to let me know it was a choice he made rather than the feeble effort of my arm.

I got to my feet in one fluid motion, realizing my mistake a moment too late. The blankets tumbled to the floor just as a precarious draft ruffled the layers of my sheer, sheer nightgown.

Shards blasted hells.

At least I had known better than to risk wearing my dagger. It was tucked in its hiding place in the back of the cabinet behind the screen.

The king’s lips parted. I followed his gaze as they slid down to the peaks of my breasts that were far too visible beneath the sheer nightgown. And standing at alert.

I crossed my arms over my chest, but it did nothing to cover the rest of my curves, evident in the morning rays of the sun. One heartbeat passed, then another, both pounding far too loud in my own ears.

Where the king’s mana had been controlled only moments ago, it spilled over now, prickling along my skin and reverberating through to my veins. His scent was everywhere, invading my senses and stealing my breath.

You hate him, I reminded myself.

I pictured frozen battlefields, shattering heiresses, fingers turned black with frost. But the mana didn’t care.

His aurora gaze locked onto mine, emerald fire flaring from the center. His throat shifted subtly, a tense, restrained swallow, like he was fighting the urge to consume. To claim.

A warning flickered in his eyes, even as he leaned forward.

My breathing hitched, a thousand alarm bells ringing in my mind just as a shadow shot between us, an indignant squeak echoing off the cavernous walls.

Frosted. Hells.

Right. The other thing I had forgotten about. The king stepped back, whatever trance we had been trapped in effectively broken.

He swallowed once, and I grabbed a blanket, trying to will away the shame that burned through me alongside something far more potent. He was my enemy—my would-be executioner.

I knelt to pull the blanket around me, and tried to angle myself between my husband and the angry little frost bat.

“What is that?” he demanded, his voice rougher than it had been before.

I took a moment to get my breathing under control, refusing to question why it felt like I had just run several laps around the palace.

“A skathryn,” I finally answered in a calm tone, like it was obvious.

Which, to be fair, it was.

His jaw clenched. “Yes, I gathered as much. But what is it doing in my palace?”

Ah, there was the better question.

“It’s…” a long story? Not your business? I hadn’t quite regained control of my thoughts, so I blurted out something close to the truth. “My pet…Batty.”

“Batty?” he echoed, his tone a mix of disbelief and disdain.

“Yes. Batty.” Sort of like how I feel right now.

Why had I given her a name, like that would somehow make the whole thing more acceptable? It did fit though, given her tiny bat mood swings.

My husband cleared his throat. When he barged into my room this morning, I had been reasonably sure it wasn’t for the purpose of killing me, but it was possible that I had just changed his mind. Well, me and…Batty.

“Does it mean that much to you for me to be stuck here alone?” I demanded, defensiveness creeping into my tone now that some of the humiliation from the breast incident was ebbing away.

I might have spent the past few years alone, but there had been cats at the estate, and a few hounds. And at least no one there had been trying to kill me.

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