A Touch Of Frost Book Novels & Stories

From the very first day I met him, I felt this impossibly stubborn feeling that never went away ever since. He hesitated a second before his fingers wrapped around mine. "Now try again." Frost looked at our joined hands, then at the table. He didn't even seem to do anything at first but soon, ice suddenly began to bloom from where our hands touched. My breath caught as I watched it spread down his arm, across mine, then onto the coffee table in the most intricate, beautiful patterns I'd ever seen. “No way,” Frost muttered in disbelief. We both stared at it, then at each other. "Holy shit," I breathed.

The smell of burning wood and fresh sawdust pulled Frostina out of her week-long sleep. ​Frostina opened her bright blue eyes, her neck throbbing with agonizing pain. Her pampered body had gone into a deep shock-induced coma after her terrible hanging attempt. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her blurry vision. As she looked around a simple, cozy wooden cabin, her heart skipped a heavy beat when she saw Buck quietly changing the firewood in the stone hearth.

It wasn’t an attack—it was… a test. I gasped as the frost nipped at my skin, as an aching chill settled into my bones. But I did not pull away. I did not resist. Instead, I embraced the cold, letting it flow through me, over me, becoming one with it. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Thank you.” The snowflakes stilled. The cold faded, replaced by something almost… gentle. The elf regarded me for a long moment before nodding. “You understand,” it said simply. “Take what you need.”

Touched by a Vampire Eternally Yours, #1 By: Sophie Slade *** Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity. ~Henry Van Dyke Prologue

AUTHORESS POV "Kingston please,you are hurting me"Vida's voice was teary .Her wrist was beginning to redden as his grip tightened.His weight pinning her slender form to the cold hard wall was almost too painful to endure but struggling now could bring harmful results.Dangerous ones even.He left her waist to and held her face trying to kiss her making the towel she wrapped around herself fall , leaving her stack naked in front of Kingston. The pained worsened as his grip tightened even more.He held her waist with his other hand and tried kissing her again while she turned her face else where .She was trying to get out of his grip but the more she tried,the more he got more angry.

I coughed and gagged as icy fingers dug into my flesh trying to rip my throat out. I heard Kayla's loud scream as she rebound from the ground and reached up as if to snatch me out of death's grip. But whatever it was lifted up and out of her reach. The ghostly fingers around my throat were so cold that my windpipe began to freeze. I tasted ice mixed with blood in my throat and the more the fingers tightened, the more ice coated my throat until shards of it began to crack and slide into my stomach.

Slipping out of the bed, and held one hand out in front of my face. A bright orange glow heated up in the middle of my palm, sparking into an orange flame. The heat of the flame spread warmth up my arm. A smile curled onto my lips at the sight of my magic. Chanting an incantation to light the candles and a fireplace if this bedroom has one. Bringing my hand up to my lips, the fire tickling the palm of my hand, I blow the flame out. I turn on my heel to view the bed I awoke in. A queen-sized bed with black satin sheets, the right side of the bed a mess from where I threw the covers off.

Amora I open my eyes in bed, blinking into the soft darkness of my motel room. Something woke me—some noise or movement. I sit up, the blankets falling away from me, then shiver as I realize I’m naked. Frost stands in the corner, his pale eyes glittering. He’s focused on me, his body vibrating with barely restrained tension. A pastel desert print rests on the wall over his head, though it’s watery and insubstantial. More like the suggestion of a painting than the actual thing. Frost’s tattoos wave gently over his skin, just as insubstantial in the darkness. We stare at each other as headlights pass the window and illuminate the sharp angles of his face. Chiseled like granite.

she said before putting Kerra on the bed and leaving the room. She climbed down the stairs all the way to the Great Library, running her hand over the fabric of her tunic to straighten any possible wrinkle before stepping inside. Novices were either searching for books or seated around the tables studying. Near the staircase that led to the level below stood a tall man with long white hair—a Snow Elf. He was reading a book, and for one moment, Ayla had the impression he was Nixx. Her heart throbbed painfully. She still missed Nixx. Everyday. Drax also. “What is magic to you?” the Snow Elf asked Ayla the moment she stopped next to him. His eyes were fixed on the page he was reading from.

And every window in the hall — every tall summer window in the old stone walls of North Ridge, standing open to the June night — iced over. From the inside. Not slowly. In an instant, the glass going white, frost spreading from the center of each pane outward in perfect geometric patterns, delicate and precise and entirely impossible in the middle of summer with the evening temperature still warm outside. The hall went completely silent. Claire looked at Nora's gold eyes. She looked at the frosted windows. She looked at the bouquet in the box, the frost on it unchanged, still exactly as cold as it had been — as though it had been kept at this temperature for six months, for a reason she was