A Touch Of Frost Book Novels & Stories

He held out his hand with a smile, and of course I took it. "We don't have music, and it's already midnight." I laughed lightly, but he had of course already thought of this. His phone was already in his hand and a soft string of notes began to play. It was "The night we met" by Lord Huron. The music seemed to swell around us and when I turned my gaze to Edward, my eyes caught something fluttering from the darkness of the sky behind him. As it grew closer I realized it had begun to snow. The flakes fell down and rested gently on each of us, melting only after a short moment. As the final notes of the song slid out, and the snow grew in volume, Edward's face grew nearer mine. His lips touched

“She believed that warmth belonged to everyone. You carry it without trying.” Nara smiled softly. “Then maybe you’re not the last flame after all.” --- The First Winter Time continued its quiet march, and the seasons deepened. The Flow’s rhythm slowed as the air cooled. For the first time in history, frost kissed the edges of the valley. The Children shivered in wonder and fear. The Flame Child stood among them, watching the white crystals form on leaves and branches. “What is this?” Kael asked, his breath fogging. “Rest,” said the Flame Child softly.

Five years after my parents' divorce, I met my mother at school. She had just finished a parent-teacher meeting for her stepdaughter, who was the top student in the grade, and was beaming with joy. The moment she saw me, her expression darkened. "Do you always come to school dressed like this? This is how your father is raising you?" She handed me a business card and said in a condescending tone, "Take this. Tell your father that I'll enroll you in the international program right away if he's willing to admit his mistake. It's better than staying in the regular program and struggling." I did not take it and took a few steps back. "No thanks, Ms. Stroll." She frowned, her eyes filled with

The Space Between Moons Chapter Six: The Name Between Them The frost was heavier than it had been all week. It lay across the pack lands in a thin white sheet, catching the pre-dawn light and throwing it back blue and silver, and Ivory's breath made clouds in front of her as she walked the east road faster than she'd meant to. The cold was useful. It gave her something immediate to be aware of that wasn't the message on her phone or the specific quality of those four minutes before his reply.

The marsh beyond the hollow walls stirred as if holding its breath. She felt everything. Rowan’s fury. Lucien’s hunger. Her own rising storm. She lifted her hands—fire and frost blazing in perfect symmetry. The marsh answered. Roots erupted through the floor in long, twisting spears. Fire burst from her palms in a column of gold, but frost intertwined with it—blue-white veins snapping through the flames like ice lightning. Wolves howled as frost sealed their paws to the stone, while the fire seared the air around them.

My heels clunk on the concrete ground as I hurried, while attempting to take a few sips of my water. I made it but just as I was about to open the door, a rough hand enclosed itself around my forearm. I spun around, coming face to face with Victor. This time, his expression was different. He seemed annoyed, a little deranged but most of all-the lust in his eyes was not the appealing kind.

Her map was dusted with frost, the sanctum a reminder of their triumph, the chill a test of their courage. Tess sheathed her sword, her hazel eyes sharp with vigilance, her voice firm, the wind howling through the chamber, the frost dusting her cloak, the sanctum a defeated fortress, the chill a distant threat. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, her blonde braid catching the dim light, Dawn growling softly beside her, the frost dusting her fur, the wind a howling challenge, the pack’s unity a radiant light in the cold. “We’ve done what we came for.” The sanctum’s walls glistened with melting ice, the wind howling through the chamber, the Frostspire a defeated adversary, the marrow god a vanq

I did not give them time to regroup. I opened my core and released the cold. Not the absolute zero I had used in the garden, but controlled and really precise. The frost spread across the ground, covering the path, the trees, the rocks. It reached the foxes and climbed their legs, their bodies, their tails. They tried to flee, but the cold was faster. One by one, they froze, their bodies locked in mid-stride, their amber eyes still burning with terror. The largest fox, the silver-streaked one, struggled against its prison. I walked toward it, my footsteps silent on the ice.

“Let’s get you settled.” He pushed me forward. Frost didn’t move aside right away. She waited until he was nearly touching her before she tilted her head, reached up, and cupped his jaw. Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth before she pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips. Then her hand slid down his chest, tracing the buttons of his shirt in a teasing stroke. It lasted only a second—but it was enough to make me grip the armrest so hard my nails dug into the arms. That bitch. That thief. Daring to taunt me in my own house just because she thought I couldn’t see.

2°C. A wave of frost, crystalline and geometric, began to bloom across my stone breasts, racing toward the copper sutures. It didn't look like ice; it looked like the silver-gray veins of the Mother's heart. "Mommy's turning white again!" Leo shrieked, lunging back toward me. He slammed his palms against my stone thighs. He tried to summon the static, to ignite the gold in his blood and thaw the frost creeping toward my heart. But the air around him didn't catch fire. It stayed cold.