Jennifer Estep: Killer Frost

I looked back over my shoulder at the checkout counter. The librarian waved me over before disappearing back into his office. I turned back to Logan and grabbed his hand.

“Come on,” I said. “This way.”

“What about the books?” he asked. “And Nickamedes?”

“He can wait,” I said. “Just like I waited for you—

and for all of this.”

Logan frowned, not quite understanding my meaning. So I tightened my grip on his hand and reached for my psychometry, letting him see all the memories that were attached to my mom’s scarf, the one Grandma Frost had given to me the night of the dance, the one that was carefully tucked away in my messenger bag. Then I reached for all the images and feelings—good and bad—from the snowflake necklace around my neck, the one he had bought me for Christmas.

I showed everything to Logan. All the battles we’d fought, all the enemies we’d faced down, all the heartache we’d endured. But most of all, I showed him my love for him and all my hopes for our future—together.

Logan sighed in understanding, and I let go of the memories and emotions.

“That’s what I’ve been waiting for,” I whispered, staring into his blue, blue eyes.

“Me too,” he whispered back.

I’d been thinking about that book of my life Sigyn had shown me, and I’d finally figured out why some of the pages had been blank. Now, I was ready to fill them in with new memories— my memories of all the experiences I’d have with Logan and the rest of my friends over the years ahead.

“So come on, Spartan,” I teased. “Let’s go. Unless you changed your mind about wanting to be alone with me.” Logan smiled at me, that slow, sexy smile I loved so much, the one that always made that warm, fizzy, dizzying feeling explode in my heart. “I would never do that,

Gypsy girl. Not with you.” “Good.”

So I grinned, pulled Logan back into the shadowy stacks, and pressed my lips to his, ready to start the next chapter of my life at Mythos Academy.

The one that I would write myself.