Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(6)

“The king and his host have left Faerie to personally notify each of the winners of the contest,”

explained the announcer. “In the ancient tradition of the tournament.”

“Is that Highway 8?” said somebody at the other end of the bar.

“Whoa,” said another patron, “they’re close.”

I glanced to Shalini. She was staring at the TV transfixed, her mouth partway open.

“Holy shit!” someone shouted. “They’re getting off at exit 13.”

“That’s, like, two blocks from here,” said Shalini quietly.

What was everyone on about?

Oh, the fae king and his bride spectacle.

I heard Shalini’s voice next to me, breathless with excitement. “Have you ever seen King Torin in person?”

“No. I’m sure he’s perfectly acceptable looking, but…” I trailed off, as an icy sense of unease spread through my chest.

I lost focus on what she was saying as the table seemed to wobble before me. My mouth felt unpleasantly watery. The margaritas had been a bad idea.

I dropped my head into my hands, and Andrew’s perfect features bloomed in my mind. “We were going to plant apple trees.”

“What? What are you talking about?” asked Shalini.

The sound of motorcycles pulled my attention up again. Outside the windows, the first of King Torin’s host roared past. The rumble of the engines was like a small airplane taking off, but if the noise bothered the patrons of the Golden Shamrock, you’d never have known it. They pressed their faces to the windows as one, two, three, four motorcycles drove by.

I was shocked to see that it was still light outside because it felt like the middle of the night. Who got this drunk in the daylight?

“Oh, my God!” Shalini’s voice cut through the deafening noise. “He just went by—wait, is he stopping?” Her voice had become disturbingly high-pitched.

The entire bar had crowded around the glass, their collective breath clouding it, fingers smudging the window.

“Oh, my God!” Shalini said again. “There he is!”

I found myself stumbling off the stool, moving closer to the window to see if I could get a look. I shoved in between the dork who’d wanted a threesome and a woman who smelled like Lysol.

“Oh, wow,” said Shalini, completely awestruck. “Oh, wow…”

Slowly, the door of the Lamborghini slid open, and the fae king stepped out. In the late afternoon, his black hair took on a golden sheen. He was tall and well-built, dressed in a dark leather jacket and black pants. He looked like an otherworldly Calvin Klein model, gilded in the sunlight, his tan skin a sharp contrast to the icy blue of his eyes. A faint hint of stubble darkened his square jaw. His hair had grown longer since the last pictures I’d seen of him. No longer close cropped, it was dark and wavy.

With a twinge of embarrassment, I realized I had my nose pressed against the glass, and I was gawping like all the rest.

He surveyed the fa?ade of the Golden Shamrock, his pale blue eyes glinting in the light. What was he doing here? He couldn’t be after me since none of the fae knew who I was.

He leaned against the side of the Lamborghini, arms folded. It took me a second to realize he was waiting for the rest of his host to arrive.

King Torin gestured toward the bar, and two of his guards slid off their motorcycles to head inside.

Next to me, Shalini whispered, “Do you think they’re coming for you, Ava?”

“No way. There’s gotta be another fae woman in here.”

I scanned the bar, looking for another fae girl like myself. We weren’t usually hard to spot. Our slightly elongated ears and unusual hair colors were typically a dead giveaway, but as far as I could tell, everyone in the bar was human.

One of King Torin’s host pushed open the door, a man with long black hair and bronze skin. He was built like a brick house. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

“The fae king wishes to stop for a drink.”

I stifled a giggle. The fae king was probably used to centuries-old wines from the finest vineyards in Bordeaux. He was in for a treat at the Golden Shamrock, where the only things aged were the food and the clientele.

I was about to tell Shalini this when King Torin stepped into the doorway of the Golden Shamrock, and I felt my jaw drop.

I’d known he was gorgeous, but in person, his beauty hit me like a fist. Sure, I’d seen his face on a thousand gossip magazines. The square jaw, the devilish smile, the glacial blue eyes that seemed to twinkle with a filthy secret. But those left out some of the details I could see up close: the charcoal black eyelashes, the slight dimple in his chin.

Adonis in the flesh? Godlike? Was this some kind of fae magic?

I’d always thought Andrew was a ten. But if Andrew were a ten, I’d have to invent a completely new scale, because he didn’t compare to the fae king.

The king’s gaze locked on mine, and I stopped breathing entirely as an icy chill ran down my spine. Suddenly, I felt as if frost were spreading from my vertebrae outward.

Shadows seemed to gather around him as he crossed the bar, and the patrons stepped away instinctively. I’d heard he had this effect on people, that his mere presence was enough to bend humans to his will.

The bartender’s hand was shaking as he poured King Torin a whiskey.