Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(11)

I stared at the phone as I hurled insults at him, rambling about Hitched and Stitched. Worse, the angle on me was deeply unflattering. I was disheveled, red-faced, slurring my words. Sweating. In the video, my eyes were half-lidded, my hair already a mess. The red stains on the sweatshirt gleamed under the bar’s warm lights.

“That is you, right?” I heard the reporter, but my fight or flight response had kicked in, and he sounded like he was speaking from a distance.

What was the best way to handle this?

Running away.

Ducking past him, I pushed the camerawoman out of the way and practically dove through the gate of the apartment complex. I spun right. I’d expected to sprint away down the sidewalk, but another TV

crew was setting up there.

Oh, crap.

Someone shouted my name, and I spun around again, ready to take off in the opposite direction.

Already, the first reporter and camerawoman were blocking my path. In hindsight, I probably should have tried to run back into Shalini’s apartment, but my thoughts were a blur of confusion. I eyed a gap between the end of the CTY-TV van and the car in front of it, trying to rush through.

My first thought had been to cross the street, but as soon as I stepped into the road, a car horn blared. A giant SUV was barreling towards me. In one terrifying second, I realized I was about to get hit.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The black shape of the SUV, the screeching tires, the horrified eyes of the driver. This was it for me.

In a fraction of a heartbeat, my life flashed before my eyes. The dark, early years I couldn’t remember except for a cold sense of fear. Then the face of my mom came into focus—Chloe’s kind smile as she baked me a carrot cake. Fragments of our happiest days together flickered before me: Christmases, birthdays, the time we’d visited Disney World. Her excitement when I finished my bartending course and got hired at one of the best bars in the city…

The memories turned darker.

There’d been the call in the middle of the night—the one everyone dreads. A doctor telling me she’d had a heart attack, that she hadn’t made it.

A sharp crack like a gunshot refocused me.

A glass pillar burst from the concrete, and the SUV slammed into it.

In the next moment, another pillar burst from the pavement beneath the news van. The van lurched sideways, then flipped onto its side. I stared, trying to understand what I was seeing.

No, not glass pillars. Ice. My jaw sagged. This certainly hadn’t been the relaxing jog I’d been anticipating.

What the hell was going on?

A powerful arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me toward the sidewalk.

“Ava, that was awfully foolish.” The smooth, deep tone of King Torin’s voice skimmed over my skin from behind me.

I turned to look up at his ice blue eyes, but he wasn’t moving away from me. His hand was still on my waist, as if I might run into the street again just for kicks. “What are you doing here?”

His lips quirked in a half-smile. “Keeping you from dying, apparently.”

“I was just about to dive out of the way. These reporters were hounding me because apparently, it’s a huge news story if someone is vaguely insulting to you.”

His blue eyes blazed with an icy light. “Vaguely?”

A camera lens glinted in the sun behind him.

“The TV people. They’re behind you.”

“Hmm.” Shadows gathered about him, cold on my skin. Torin was shielding me from the view of the cameras. As the reporter called his name, his shadowy magic thickened like heavy fog, swallowing the light and the heat around us.

The reporter’s voice faltered. “My sincerest apologies…”

King Torin didn’t bother to face him. His eyes were locked on me as he issued a command from over his shoulder. “Destroy the camera.”

Through the dark mist, I watched over Torin’s shoulder as the anchor grabbed the TV camera from his assistant and threw it on the ground. It shattered on the pavement. I winced. That couldn’t have been cheap.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?” I whispered.

“I’m getting rid of any witnesses. Today’s news is already bad enough without video of you trying to throw yourself in front of an SUV.”

King Torin’s eyes still pierced me. Behind him, the camerawoman and reporter were stomping the camera into bits.

“How did you get them to do that?”

He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know what glamour is?”

“Should I?”

“Yes.”

I jabbed a finger at his chest, which was like pressing a brick wall. “If you people wanted me to know things about the fae, maybe you shouldn’t have exiled me. And by the way, I got fired because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“Your crazed fans were threatening my boss.”

“How is that my fault?” He cocked his head, curiosity glinting in his pale eyes. “We’re getting sidetracked. Do you know anything about magic at all?”

His powerful body exuded a menacing chill, and I took a step back from him, breath clouding around my head. “Nope. Why would I? I don’t even remember Faerie.”

Torin’s features softened almost imperceptibly. “Glamour,” he said quietly, “is a special kind of magic we use to influence humans and a few weak-minded fae. It allows us to help them forget things.”