Page 11 of Frost
My mouth goes dry, and I reach for my coffee, mainly as a distraction from his heated gaze. Crazy how eyes like ice can make me feel like I’m burning from the inside out.
“You’re nervous,” Jack says, his hand falling back to his lap.
“No, I’m not.”
He rises from the couch and steps toward the front door. “I should go.”
“Why?” I stand and face him, feeling ten kinds of pathetic. I’ve never been so needy before. I don’t even know Jack. He could be a crazy wild man who butchers people like some of the horror movies I’ve seen.
“Haven’t you heard?” His eyebrow arches. “I’m Jack Frost. At night, I paint the world in ice and snow and create fernlike spirals on frosted windowpanes.”
The door opens, and he leaps out into the night. I rush outside after him and look up at the sea of shimmering stars breaking through areas of the otherwise overcast sky. Cold air fills my lungs, and when I exhale, my breath releases in a visible cloud.
“Jack?”
Silver catches my eye, and I look to see him sitting in the nearest tree. “Go inside and warm yourself by the fire, little light. The night is sure to be a cold one.”
And then he jumps into the air and disappears from my sight.
I go back inside the cabin and sit at the desk to work, but my thoughts are consumed by Jack and everything that happened today. One thing’s for sure… a week here won’t be enough. Not only am I inspired to write, but I’m also intrigued by the mystery of Jack Frost. More importantly, I’m interested in the real man behind the legend.
After refilling my coffee, I open up the Word document to where I last left off. The plot unfolds easily as I type.
In my book, Jack hears of a potential new threat and he goes to investigate. However, then he sees a boy with raven-black hair and emerald-green eyes, a boy who makes his heart skip a beat. It’s the same boy who’s destined to raise an army of the dead and enslave all of humanity.
The story will have adventure, a touch of forbidden love, and heart-stopping action.
I write late into the night, the story pouring out of me and onto the page. I haven’t been this excited for a book in a long time. When my eyes start to get heavy, I save my progress, then brush my teeth and slide into bed, shivering at the cold sheets.
Once settled, I glance out the window in front of me as it starts to snow again.
“Is that you, Jack?” I ask, smiling to myself.
I receive no answer, but I don’t expect one. I know in my heart it’s true.
Closing my eyes, I imagine him soaring through the air, ice shooting from his fingertips as he rides the north wind and brings winter to the world. I fall asleep sometime after that. In the middle of the night, a noise at the window wakes me. Something warm presses to my cheek, and my eyes flutter open. All I see is silver before my lids fall shut again.
“Good night, Luka,” a sweet voice whispers beside my ear. “May you chase the stars in your dreams.”
Chapter Four
I send an email to my publisher shortly after I wake up to tell them about the new book. Now that I have a clear direction, I know I can get it written fairly quick. They give me a February deadline before I have to send it off to the editor, which is more than enough time.
After fueling up with coffee, I sit at the desk and write until noon. I knock out two chapters and brainstorm the next one as I eat a turkey sandwich for lunch. The sound of snow sliding off the roof makes me look out the window.
The sky is clear, and the sun shines on the white-covered ground, but the sun is deceiving. The temperature last I checked was barely above twenty degrees Fahrenheit.
“Your name sounds so warm. Like you’re the sun and I’m the icy north wind.”
I smile as I recall Jack’s words. The feel of his fingers on my skin as he caressed my jaw is engrained in my memory.
Will he come back today?
I faintly remember something from last night—a voice telling me good night followed by soft lips pressing to my temple. But I don’t know if it’s real or not.
Fantasy and reality seem to be mixing a lot lately, and it’s hard to tell which is which.
Too restless to sit still, I bundle up in a heavy coat, boots, and gloves and head outside. Jack was right when he said I’m clumsy in the snow, so I don’t go far. I walk to the edge of the yard where the tree line starts and stand in place, breathing in the winter air.
