Page 175 of Frost and Death
Jerrick and I have tried different methods of meditation, and each one leaves me more frustrated and exhausted. I might already be reaching the limits of my abilities, but I’ve only touched on calling my magic back to me…
It’s hopeless, Tove. Just admit it.
No.
This is all part of my new plan. If I can manifest my magic and break Jerrick’s curse, I can return home andhopefullyremove or melt away my winter by then.
I try not to let the guilt of keeping secrets from Jerrick and Jonas eat at me as we research and practice, but I snuff the feelings away, trusting Niko will understand and arrive at the ball with peace in his heart.
Pulling away from my thoughts, I focus on an archery target, practicing blasting frost from my hands to a specific mark.
Jerrick is to my right, arms crossed and that damned dimple on full display.
It is hard to pry my thoughts away from him, but when I do, small pebbles of frost cascade out from my hand, but don’t make it too far toward the target. Disappointment rocks through me, the consequence showing along my arms that my magic can work against me if I don’t keep myself in check.
Jerrick advances in concern as I lift my hand to stop him. When he stops, I smirk and close my eyes, and I focus on leveling my emotions.
The frigidness of my magic tingles along my skin, quieting down toward a place of solace in my core. By the time I open my eyes, Jerrick stands in front of me, grinning wide as I jump in glee.
“That was amazing! I’ve never been able to do that so quickly!” I cheer as he studies me, his grin turning into a small smirk.
“All you need to remember now is to watch the control in your wrist. Using your magic is just like using knives,” he says, removing a dagger from his belt.
He holds the blade, resting the hilt on his shoulder. Flicking his wrist lightly, Jerrick launches the blade across the room, landing a bullseye on the target.
I whip my head back to him, and a cocky grin appears as he finishes his thoughts. “The smallest effort can make or break where your target lands.”
I nod in understanding, making a mental note to try again the next time we practice. I walk toward the washbasin at the edge of the arena, then wet a washcloth to wipe along my brow before leaving for one of my last meetings with Jonas for the masquerade ball next week.
“I better get going,” I tell Jerrick politely, hating to end our training session. “Jonas and I need to wrap up some of the last details for the party.”
Jerrick approaches the wash basin, dipping a second cloth and wiping his brow and neck and dumping it into the bucket, causing water to splash on me.
He crosses his arms.
“I won’t keep you any longer then, but I have cleared our schedule for the next few days, so be sure to wrap up all last-minute details because you’ll be indisposed,” he says nonchalantly.
The meaning behind his words has me biting my lip, tempted to imagine what they mean. Maybe something lustful and full of desire. The picture painted in my mind seeps into my core.
I swallow thickly, trying my best to remove the filthy image from my mind.
When he stayed in my chambers, I woke the next morning with him still there. And Sweet Makers, I swelled at the bliss of it.
Jerrick nuzzled into me as he slept, his light snore and little mumbles initially what roused me.
But I still cannot remove the feeling of his hard length pressed into my lower back. The feel of him set my skin on fire, the desire to grind against him, to wake him and lose myself in him ran through my mind and surfaces in moments like this when he is so close.
Fucking Deities, getting along with him is making my attraction to him worse.
Youaremarried to him, Tove.
I cower away from my tempting thoughts and ask Jerrick for clarification. “Indisposed?”
His eyes twinkle as he fastens his belt along his trousers. “I’m taking you on a hunt.”
My mouth slackens as panic sends out excuses. “I can’t go on a hunt. I’ve never been on one. Jonas might need my help with the party. We still haven’t made progress on your curse. I have to—”
Jerrick rests a finger on my lips, my mouth closing at the contact. He steps in, his intoxicating cologne clouding my sense of judgment.
