Page 107 of Frost and Death
Jerrick latches onto my wrists, preventing me from scooting any further, and terror threatens to escape from my throat.
I open my mouth, and my breath is visible. It does not stop Jerrick from pulling me closer. I turn away, and he leans in, terrified he is going to breathe death itself into me.
Sweet Makers, I don’t want to die.
Panic and my powers fight for an escape, chills swimming through my veins as the cold stings, causing me to hiss in discomfort.
Jerrick’s head tilts to my arms, my magic manifesting on my skin and slowly freezing it over.
Death itself seeks to swallow me whole, and ice cracking around me banishes all sense of instincts.
I can’t get away from Jerrick, and I can’t get away from my past.
This is all my fault.
I hate this, I hate myself, and I hate my magic.
I shake uncontrollably, the power threatening and all consuming.
The room, too, pulls air away from me, my chest and my heart erratic. Tremors wrack through my body, a complete and utter defeat drowning me here and now.
“You need to breathe,” Jerrick says.
But tears blur my vision. “I-I can’t. I can’t,” I stutter through gasped breaths.
My bitter cold magic travels across my arms, chilling and running down my legs. It is too powerful to contain. I can’t stop the hatred I have for my misgivings and these abilities, my gift on its own journey to freeze me whole.
I hate this fucking curse of winter’s kiss.
Jerrick moves, his hands gripping my face tightly. “Breathe!” he demands in a panic, only sending more tears down my cheeks.
I fight to send air into my lungs, to not think beyond the piercing pain of the frost and ice manifesting on my body.
But the terror of magic itself refuses to shake its grip.
Images of frost spill from my fingertips, turning into snow, while my feet would send more of winter outward and around me. My own frigid hand turns white as ice cracks splits my mind. The cold sting mixed with memories a blade plunging repeatedly into me.
I cower, my fears drowning me. “Please, no. Please, stop,” I cry, pleading through the cold air.
Jerrick pulls away, scanning my entire body, muttering curses as he watches me lose myself to my own magic. Concern etches across his features when his eyes find mine again, and my heart breaks as I realize these could very well be my final moments.
The last thing I’ll see is an enemy instead of a friend taking pity on the lack of control over my abilities.
The last heir of Axidoria, dying because she let frost and death consume her.
I deserve it.
At least my people will have Niko.
Jerrick’s lips crash against mine. His kiss is rough and demanding, and my mouth meets the neediness.
One of his hands is wrapped around my head, the other gripping my neck. Heat, a shock to my body, creeps across my face when his tongue mingles with mine, pulling it into his mouth to suck and deepen our joining. The warmth in my cheeks grows, sending waves down the sides of my neck and melting away the speckles of frost rising from my pores.
His hold on my throat tightens as the kiss becomes messy.
A guttural moan comes from me, a sense of euphoria from my breath being blocked.
My blood boils, the surface of my skin no longer cold and the numbness in my hands gone. It feels as if he is suppressing the frosted air and inhaling it through our kiss.
