Prologue — Elias Frost POV
Frostvale.
A town that looked like it had been carved out of sugar and snow. Lights twinkled on every corner, wreaths draped over lampposts, and the smell of cinnamon and pine clung to every crisp gust of winter air. The kind of place that made ordinary hearts feel like children again—but mine was anything but ordinary.
And there she was. Again. Grey eyes glinting like frost on the lake, delicate fingers brushing against the glass reindeer at a Christmas stall. I could trace the curve of her smile if I wanted, memorize every tilt of her head, every flutter of her lashes. I could buy her every single ornament in this damn market, and she wouldn’t even notice the man behind the mask.
I watched her wrap her lips around a candy cane, slow and deliberate, and I felt it—the heat crawling up my thighs, the way my body betrayed me with want. I imagined her looking up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, innocence dripping through that perfect, vulnerable frame. And then the darker thoughts took over, impossible to silence: what it would feel like to have her on her knees, trembling for me, the warmth of her mouth and the glitter of her hair spilling like fire against the cold winter air. Respectful, of course… in my own way.
I lingered at the edge of the crowd, a Santa hat cocked over my head, a reindeer mask with long horns hiding my identity, a black scarf with red reindeer patterns wrapped around my neck. One of many tourists, blending in. But none of them could see what I saw.
This was my town. My world. My obsession.
I didn’t want to scare her. Not yet. I had to keep it perfect, like wrapping the most exquisite gift under the Christmas tree. A smile, a laugh, a glance in my direction—just enough to make her think the magic in Frostvale was real.
And inside me, it roared, untamed. I wanted to run my hands through her hair, to whisper unthinkable, deliciously wicked things into her ear. I wanted to drape her in sparkling tinsel, sticky sugar on skin, my hands leaving marks in all the right places. The very thought made me shiver, made me ache with a hunger that no peppermint bark or hot cocoa could ever satisfy.
I had to be patient. I had to be precise. One wrong step, and she’d vanish, and the dream—the obsession—would crumble like fragile glass underfoot.
So I stayed in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Christmas lights reflecting off her hair, snowflakes catching in her lashes. She didn’t know it yet, but she had already walked into my world, and I would not let her leave.
Not ever.
She wandered from stall to stall, pausing with delicate curiosity, tilting her head this way and that, hands brushing against ornaments, lights, little trinkets that would make a lesser man soft with sentiment. And then she froze.
A crystal reindeer. Gleaming, perfect, intricate, the kind of thing that seemed carved for her alone. Precious red stones set into the antlers like little drops of frozen fire. She leaned in to read the price tag, eyes narrowing, lips pressing together, and then… that little frown. Disappointment.
Too expensive.
The sight of her walking away, so unconcerned that she couldn’t afford it, made something dark and delicious coil in my chest. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her leave like that. My impulse flared hotter than the torches lining the festival paths.
I bought it.
A thousand dollars. Nothing. Change. A trifle when it came to the life I commanded, the power I wielded. But the look on her face when I handed it to her? That was priceless.
Her little smile, her wide grey eyes sparkling like the snow around us, would be mine to savor. And my mind didn’t stop there—not even close.
I imagined her later, curled into the firelight, holding that crystal reindeer in her hands… and then me. My hands on her, tracing the curves of her body, my cock pressing insistently against her warmth, sliding into her slick heat as her little gasp trembled into a shiver. The thought made me hard in an instant, urgent, insatiable. I wanted to bury myself inside her, watch her little body quake, hear her breath hitch, taste her in every possible way.
I followed at a distance, invisible, silent, my eyes never leaving her. Each step she took was a spark under my skin, each glance she threw at a decoration or a passing crowd sending jolts of want through me. I was the shadow in the lights, the pulse beneath the carols, the thought she didn’t even know she had yet.
And I would have her. All of her. Slowly, carefully… or recklessly, if the need demanded it. Anything to see that little angel of a body gasp, moan, shiver, and melt under me.
Because she belonged to me.
