A Bite of Frost Anthology
Genre: Paranormal Romance
A collection of short stories that will tickle your toes with a touch of frost and warm your heart with a love bite of romance.
by Lashanta Charles
/vetr/ /vɛːtʏr/ /veːtʊr/
Faroese, Icelandic, Old Norse
noun meaning winter
“on the outskirts of Sault Ste. Marie, lives the most powerful Vetur wielder”
Groomed to be pure perfection in the eyes of a never-satisfied mother, Cyan struggled to find her place within her clan. She knew her responsibility to them, but she had yet to deliver. She was supposed to be theVetur and yet, she wasn’t. They accepted her, failure and all, they still loved her. But love and acceptance are futile in the eyes of time. And time is something she can’t take for granted because soon, it will run out.
Refusing to tempt fate, and for their own selfish gain, those closest to Cyan betrayed her in the worst way possible. Secrets. Lies. Absolute deception. She didn’t break though. She snapped.
And when she snapped, time no longer mattered because she would end them all.
Movement flashed and they were there before me. The three strangers. I hadn’t thought it was possible for them to look even more menacing, and yet they did. Backs straight, no longer slouched carelessly, and bulging muscles poised to either attack or defend, they were a sight to behold. But their leader; the one front and center, three steps ahead of the two flanking him? He was glorious. His dark hair grazed his wide shoulders. Honey brown eyes glared at me, his lips stretched into a thin line. Black clothing head to toe, made a valiant attempt at concealing his powerfully built physique. Hands as big as dinner plates remained loose, palms open and facing me, at his sides. Loose and empty. He’d chosen to face me without a weapon, but his entire aura radiated danger. How he managed to simultaneously seem relaxed and alert was beyond me, but Vetur recognized the true peril in the room. It wasn’t The Queen. It wasn’t the warriors at my back. It wasn’t even the formidable duo flanking him. It was him alone. My power urged me to confront him. Fight him. Make him conquer us. One corner of his mouth ticked up into a smirk and the movement drew my eyes. When I realized he’d been watching me analyze him my eyes narrowed in irritation.
“Little fox,” his baritone flowed across to me like a warm palm caressing my face and I barely suppressed a full-bodied quiver. “I’d like the opportunity to take that challenge.” He finished with a dip of his head and a slight bow, never taking his eyes off me. Those eyes. That body. His voice. Every aspect of him tugged at me and I fought to resist it. Fought to remember the challenge I’d issued to The Queen to kill me. Did he think he could take me?
My eyebrow rose in question as I realized the ice within a three feet radius of him and his men had begun to melt. Drawing back up to his full height, he took a few steps toward me. Also, had he just called me a fox?
“Not accepted! You will keep your distance from my heir, Valen! Cyan, you will stop this foolishness and do as you’ve been told,” The Queen shouted just as Kormen spoke up.
“Cy you cannot do this!”
Calm that I hadn’t even noticed settle over me receded in an instant, giving way to a seething rage at their interruption. I needed to speak with this beautiful stranger. Needed every single interaction he gave and they wanted to prevent that. Celeste continued to spew threats, not even realizing the monster she’d unleashed. Pulling one of my knives back into myself, I flicked a free hand in Kormen’s direction, burying him in an avalanche of snow. I’d deal with his betrayal later. Eyes narrowed to slits, I focused on the woman who birthed me. The bane of my existence. “You went too far this time, mother. If you want me to stop this then you’ll have to kill me.”
Her eye twitched. The only indication that my words had a negative effect on her, but I ignored it. My second knife materialized in my palm again and with little thought, I sent them both sailing through the air with her as my intended target. Valen, who seemingly read my mind, moved barely a moment later. Jumping, he plucked both knives from the air. His hands sizzled as the ice melted in them. Son of a . . .
“Let the record show that I vehemently object to that whole killing you suggestion,” he stated, his voice still calm and collected.
LaShanta Charles is from South Carolina, but currently lives in Tacoma, WA. She’s married, has three tiny humans who constantly mooch off of her, and is active duty in the US Army. She’s a homebody who adores SLEEPING, reading (romance, especially RH, paranormal, and sci-fi), eating, white chocolate mochas, SLEEPING, Reese’s PB Cups (but only the ones stuffed with Reese’s Pieces), and writing. Oh, and she hates spiders; why do they need EIGHT legs?