T. Grey: Chains of Frost

She couldn’t pretend that everything was okay, because it wasn’t. Even Lucinda had

stopped by to inquire over her health—she’d lied and said she was fine.

This only made her feel worse. She hated lying. One lie lead to another to another... Her gut hurt to a near excruciating level. Was it because she was dying or because something bad was coming?

She hoped it was the latter because dammit she didn’t want to die. She wanted to live in this ridiculous castle that had open windows and cold floors and sleep next to the vampire she loved.

The lethargy she felt deep in her bones was overwhelming. She’d never felt anything like it. Did all beings feel differently when they died?

When she was younger, she used to wonder in moments of morbid curiosity how she

would die. She’d envisioned being murdered by demons, vampires, another succubus—all it would take was one lop of the head. She’d even pictured grand events, like would she survive a nuclear bomb? She seriously doubted any of the supernatural beings could. But who knew?

Now she was in the middle of dying. She hadn’t been “fed” in three of the longest days of her entire life. This was not how she wanted to die.

And now she was in a battle of the instincts. Her instinct to survive shouted at her to take any man, even a teensy weensy orgasm from him, or even a quick lay, and she’d be back to feeling well in an instant. But the thought of taking another was so appalling that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. And she’d fully thought it through during her recent bedridden days. She’d considered the different warriors who might help her and what she might possibly be able to stomach.

None of it would work. She was in stupid, stupid love. Where was her damned demon?

Was it done coming after her? The last she’d heard from Telal and Rayn the demon was amassing some sort of army from below the rift.

“God, Lily, what did you get me into?” she muttered into her pillow.

That’s it. She was going to do it. She’d been thinking about it all day. She had weighed her choices between dying and finding another. She really didn’t want to die. Dying at 29

because she was too scared to ask some male she didn’t know for help was just embarrassing.

What had her papa told her when she was young? Making out, giving or getting orgasms, or sex would work. Her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. Geez, Papa could still embarrass her from the grave.

Chloe sat up in bed and the room spun around her. She waited until it settled before she put her feet on the floor. Her legs trembled and she used the bed for support to lift her up.

Chloe didn’t know how long it took her to find her bedroom door or to find her way

down to the castle’s main floor but she was sure it was over an hour. At least that’s how it felt.

She was panting with exhaustion. Her skin was clammy with sweat.

She had to sit at the bottom stair and hang her head for a few minutes before she was able to finally move again. She looked everywhere, ready to find any warrior. Her eyes were wide, heart beating with fear. Was she already too late?

Would she finally find some warrior to makeout with only to fall dead at his feet? A door opened at the end of the hall. She spotted thick, short hair.

“Rayn!” She’d meant to scream but it came out as a hoarse croak. Bless the warrior

though because he turned towards her, his face pulling into a deep frown. He was in front of her in a second.

“What’s wrong, Chloe?”

“Dying.” God, did that sound dramatic, but it was the truth.

The warrior’s face paled. “Let me get the Commander. Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

Shaking her head, Chloe said, “No. He won’t. Hates me. Please, kiss me.” Her heartbeat sounded abnormally loud in her ears and Rayn’s voice sounded faraway when he spoke as if he was still at the other end of the hallway. Tears filled her eyes. Please don’t let me be too late.

“I can’t kiss you. You’re the Commander’s. You’re under his Protection. He’d kill me.”

Chloe might have smiled bitterly if she could. Instead she fumbled forward a step and he caught her by the arms.

“Hates me. Please, Rayn. Help me.” Her throat felt scratchy and tight like it’d been scrubbed with a bar of Lava and then buffed with some sandpaper for an added touch.

Rayn looked over her with a grimace, probably taking note of how awful she looked. She hadn’t exactly had time to spruce herself up in the bathroom before she got here.

Finally, he nodded. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her waist. His frown

deepened. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Kiss me.”

Shaking his head, he brought his lips down to hers. There was no instant healing in his kiss. But the room stopped feeling like she was in a kid’s Etch A Sketch being shaken all around.

He kept his tongue safely secured in his mouth as she did hers. He slanted his head and kissed her a little more firmly and her knees stopped shaking. Thank God, progress.

Her arms lifted, wrapped around his thick neck to hold him still. Her breaths came faster and she held him to her forcefully, her instinct to take as much out of him as she could. She had no other thought but of finally feeling whole.

Suddenly, his mouth was no longer against hers. Chloe blinked in time to see Rayn in a crumbled, groaning heap at the bottom of the staircase. His legs twitched and then he was struggling to get up.

Chloe turned and her heart squeezed tight.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” asked the source of her pain.

She swallowed once and felt her throat close to working order again but not quite healed all the way yet. “Why, isn’t it Commander Tyrian en Kulev, leader of the Atal Warriors. You grace me with your incredible presence.” She tried to bow but ended up stumbling forward. He grabbed her to steady her then quickly withdrew his hands.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said icily.

Rayn finally stood and wobbled up to them, favoring his right ankle. “She was dying. I kissed her. No tongue, I swear.” Chloe sensed the violence in Tyrian coming to a boil. She took an unsteady step towards him, putting Rayn behind her. Tyrian cocked a brow at her.

“Don’t hurt him for what he did. He helped while you did nothing.”

Chloe felt herself falling backward. She took a breath as air breezed around her, but then Tyrian caught her before she hit the ground, picking her up in his arms.

“What have you done to yourself?” he asked angrily. Chloe felt him moving but

struggled to make sense of the rooms now spinning around her. The kiss had helped, but she was three days starving. She needed more.

“You did it. You threw me out.” Her heart broke. God it hurt to say it aloud. To put sound to the words that cut so deep. A soft cushion met her back. She stared up into the ice blue eyes that she’d grown to love.

“Besides,” she added bitterly, “You told me to choose another warrior. I did your

bidding.”

Tyrian stalked away from her with a curse. “I know what I said, woman.” Finally, he came back to her and gave her no time to think before his mouth was on hers.

Chloe twisted, turning her head away. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I told you what I felt and you threw me out like I’m nothing to you. Why would I want your kiss now? When it’s angry and hard and uncaring?”

His eyes darkened. “The way I kiss isn’t any different than it was before. Just let me help you.”

“Now you want to help? I swear that if I could throw something at you right now I

would. You’re a bastard who’s pushing away something that could make you so happy.” Don’t cry, Chloe.