Page 69 of A Court of Fire and Frost

She doesn’t give me time to answer before she kicks the door. It flies open, and a blaring alarm rings into the night.

“Come on!” she yells.

I follow her lead, my legs pumping as we run into the dark night. Snowflakes cascade around us in a flurry as we escape. Shouts fill the air, but we’re Fae and faster than them.

Soon, the woods envelop us both. The thrill of our small crime electrifies me, sending jolts of warmth through my veins until I can't help but let out a laugh. I shouldn't do that—we're in the gods-damned Winter Court, and nothing about this is particularly funny—but I can’t help it.

"I've never done anything like that," I say breathlessly.

Elva lets out a low growl, pulling me harder until the shouts and wailing alarm are lost to the wind.

We made it.

Then, she spins around with a smirk on her face. Her eyes are ablaze. She drops her bag on the forest floor and pins me against a tree trunk. Her lips crash over mine in a hot kiss. Every part of me is on fire. I match every move of her mouth with an intensity I didn't know I possessed.

Snow is falling harder, and the world is like a white bubble around us. It's just us; for now, I don't care about anything else. Her hands travel down my sides, pulling me closer to her. The fire deepens, becoming an inferno within me.

Her teeth graze the edge of my mouth. They are soft at first, then harder, like the snow under our feet. Her tongue darts out, probing at my mouth, seeking entrance, and I part my lips willingly, letting her in.

I'm utterly drunk on her when she suddenly pulls away. "Stick with me, Fire Fae," she says softly. Her face is flushed in the cold, and her lips are swollen.

Mine.

Her hand strokes down my arm. "This is just the beginning."

Chapter28

I Will Protect Him

ELVA

One month later

"Nathan, if you hold the sword like that, you'll be gutted like a fish before you can even utter a word."

He’s standing in the middle of what has become ‘our clearing’ near the Western Mountains, holding an ice sword I made for him moments ago. The weapon isn’t my most elaborate piece of work ever, but it will do the job.

I walk around him, placing my hand on his hip and slightly adjusting his stance before molding my hand around his. “Here, like this,” I say, adjusting how his fingers grip the hilt. “Otherwise, you’ll lose the weapon as soon as someone hits it.”

He nods, lifting the sword in both of our hands, and swings it through the air. It glides effortlessly, his muscles tightening with the effort. I can’t help but appreciate how the material highlights his body, nor can I ignore how his fingers hold the hilt of the sword with such strength.

He’s strong for a Summer Fae.

"There, that's better,” I say, squeezing his hand and appreciating the warmth emanating from his body. Despite being in the cold, he’s a Summer Fae through and through.

"It sure is," he replies, tilting his head back to steal a kiss. It's sweet and quick and speaks to our growing connection.

During the past month, we've spent every day training with weapons. To say it's been a learning curve is an understatement. Nathan is one of the least violent Fae I’ve ever met, and I can tell that the idea of using these weapons against another living being is bothering him.

I keep replaying the look on his face when I killed that Fae right in front of him. But it was kill or be killed.

And I will kill tens of thousands of Fae before I ever let them lay a finger on him.

He’s mine.

Mine to protect. Mine to teach. Mine to love.

We’ve cycled through a dozen weapons before landing on the short sword.

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