Chapter Three: Frost

Baila

I had a strange dream about a man with eyes so blue they frightened and entranced me at the same time. At first, he was a blue-eyed boy who got excited at the little things. His excitement and curiosity were infectious. I could hear his laughter as he ran through the meadow. Soon, he was a man with the same bright blue eyes. The only difference was that he had lost his excitement. His laughter was not as genuine and wild as it used to be.

I felt it. The emotion that swallowed him whole was not sadness or trauma. It was loneliness. I could feel his pressing need to have someone and to belong somewhere. I wanted to hold him. I reached out for him but the world swirled into different colors around me.

The dream changed, and I was drowning under the moon. I smiled up at the stars as hands reached down and pulled me to the surface. Frost. I heard the wind whisper. Air filled my lungs and I gasped awake.

The bed was warm and comfortable. Bed?! I sat up, looking around. Someone had saved me. I wasn't dead. I let out a loud squeal and bounced back in bed before jumping out of the bed. I was in the largest room I had ever seen. A wall and an open door separated the room from a long table covered in papers. It looked like a drawing room of sorts.

The bed took up most of the space in the room. I spun around, and a man was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. A man in a chair! I yelped, pausing to look at him. Was he the one who saved me?

I watched him cross his leg and lean back in the chair. His chest rose and fell heavily. I was sure he was asleep. How did he fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position? I took slow small steps towards him. He wore a white shirt and had an arm over his eyes.

His brown hair was dark at the roots. I was curious about how he looked. When I was only one foot away from him, I contemplated lifting his hand to take a peek at his face. I frowned when I saw the slash of red on his tunic shirt. Was he hurt? Did I hurt him?

I backed away, shaking my head. I needed to leave. I couldn't go back home. The witches would kill me for jeopardizing their future. I was sure even my mother hated me, but Ayesha's mother must have hated me more. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized that I had nowhere to go. Perhaps, I could leave the realm like other witches had done. But realm travel was a dangerous affair, and I did not know anyone who could take me through the golden sea and smuggle me through the portal.

Goddess!

My life was ruined. What had I done? Where was I? I had climbed over the black wall and fallen in the stream. Obviously, the sleeping stranger had saved me, but where was I? I looked out the broken window. There were wolves right outside the window. Wolves? Wolves weren't on this side of the realm.

I gasped. How far had I traveled? I couldn't have. No. It wasn't possible. But as I watched a wolf shift into a man, my heart stopped. Goddess! I had made everything worse. I was in Northwood. The city of wolves. No outsider had been to Northwood since the treaty was signed, and I, a witch, had trespassed into the territory of the creatures who betrayed the witches. If I didn't die in the river, I was about to die anyways.

But why would he save me if he wanted me dead? Maybe he wanted to know the witches' hideout. I scoffed, glaring at the man. He could forget about it. I had done enough harm. I was not about to send everything to hell by telling him the location of the last surviving witches. I needed to leave, and I needed to do it soon.

With sore feet, I hurried to the door. My hands had barely grazed the handle when a gust of wind blew my hair into my face and the sleeping man stood between me and the door. I breathed, ready to rip off my necklace if necessary. I reached for it instinctively, but the man simply shook his head. His tired blue eyes looked down at me.

"I only want answers to my question," he spoke softly, stepping away from me.

"I'll answer what I can," I ceded. He had saved my life. Werewolf or not, I owed it to him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and staggered back. For a moment, I feared that he would collapse, but he straightened his back and stood taller.

"I heard your voice last night. I saw through your eyes. I.......why?" he asked.

I frowned. I had screamed for help in my head. He couldn't have possibly heard me. How did he see through my eyes? It was new to me, and I didn't know what to tell him. I wished I could help, but unfortunately, I did not have answers to his questions.

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Did you cast a spell on me?" he asked, his eyes desperate for an answer.

Was he hoping I would say yes? Or was he hoping I would say no? I was confused. I had never been in a situation like this before. I had been weak and dying. I didn't have the strength to wake my demon or cast a spell.

"I did not," I replied.

The man's face fell, and he took several steps away from me. He muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair and tugging on it violently.

I was worried. I hadn't said anything wrong.

"You're a witch," the man muttered, turning his back to face me. He walked into the room with the table and poured himself some wine.

Had he gone mad? I watched in horror as he ripped open his shirt and flung the pieces away. He gulped down the wine and walked across the room to a shelf facing the long table. When he turned sideways to reach for a book on the shelf, I saw it. It was only a brief moment, but I would recognize that tattoo anywhere.

On the left peck of the man's chest, swirling ink formed a huge snowflake with a snarling wolf. I knew that picture. It was the sigil of house Caldore. I had seen it in books and read about it in stories. The older witches whispered it in the tales they told my village at night.

Wolves with hearts as cold as ice and skin that snow melts upon. I was in Northwood, and what was worse was that I knew the man who was rummaging angrily through the books in his room. I should have realized it the moment I saw his glowing blue eyes.

This was him. The lycan king.

It was tradition for the lycan kings to have the sigil of house Caldore imprinted on their chest. Frost. The name slammed into my chest so hard, I staggered back. I decided to take my chances. I didn't know why, but I called out to him.

"Frost," my voice was so soft, I thought he didn't hear me, but he paused and looked up from the books scattered on the table.

I walked through the door and into the room with the long table. "Frost," my voice shook. I was scared out of my mind. What was I doing calling a man by a name I heard in a dream?

"I'm Nolan," he shook his head, "Nolan Caldore."

Goddess. I really did know how to find trouble.

"I'm sorry for calling you that," I said. "I thought you were someone else."

"It's fine," Nolan replied, going back to his books.

Now I did not know what to do. I had nowhere to go and no idea of how to fix the mistake I had made.

"You're certain you don't have answers to my questions? You didn't cast a spell by mistake?" Nolan asked, breaking my train of thought.

Oh yes. He had heard my voice and seen through my eyes. Perhaps it was an accident that happened every thousand years and it had happened to us because I had never heard of such a thing. A lycan seeing through a witch's eyes.

"I was too weak to cast a spell, but perhaps, it is possible," I responded. It seemed as if Nolan wanted to hear that I had cast a spell on him, forcing him to save my life.

I sighed. I had more important matters to deal with. Should I head back home? No. I was an outcast by now. Yet, home was the safest place for me at the moment. If I went back home, the high guards would hunt me down, and if they found me, they would kill anyone I was with.

The room went quiet. When I looked at Nolan, I noticed he had stopped flipping through books. What was he looking for? He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked up to me.

"I need to figure something out. I need to know the truth about something very important. Can you help me?" he asked in a pleading tone.

I lost myself in his bright blue eyes. "You saved my life. I will do whatever I can to help."

"Can I kiss you?"

That was certainly not the kind of payment I had in mind. I furrowed my brows, searching his eyes to know if he was serious.

"Not the way you think," Nolan chuckled. "It is only a kiss."

Twelve blasted hells! A kiss in exchange for my life was a tiny price to pay. I stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. Before I could change my mind, I pressed my lips to his. He growled, pulling me closer to him. Nolan wrapped his arms around my back and waist.

I felt a hum in my gut. Slowly, it became a tingling sensation that wrapped itself around my heart and squeezed it tight. My demon stirred, and I shoved Nolan away. I turned my back to him as I felt my eyes glow their usual red color.

What the hell was that? My demon had not woken up, but it almost had. I took in deep breaths, thinking of a time when this happened to me, but I found none. It had never happened to me before.

I turned to face Nolan, who was still breathing heavily. His blue eyes were glowing brighter.

"You can't leave," he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I didn't know why, but that small gesture of him wiping his mouth had hurt me.

"Why not?" I frowned, focusing on the situation at hand instead of how his lips had tasted. He tasted like rain and wine.

"I don't know," Nolan replied. He looked genuinely confused.

I thought things through. Until I figured out a plan, I needed a place to stay. It would only be for a few days. But as Nolan's eyes returned to normal and he still looked at me with that broken and tired expression, I felt a strange sense of foreboding.