by Anya Nowlan
Dash took his glass, opened the freezer and came to the conclusion that there was nothing there worth eating—though Blitz had stocked it well before leaving—and walked over to the big couch and the magnificent fireplace that it faced. The storm outside was ridiculous, as it had been in most of the northern hemisphere since a few days before Christmas all the way to now. But it did make for a nice view out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, opening up to a stretch of thick, untouched Idaho forest and Wolf’s Eye Lake in the distance.
Dash put the glass down on the coffee table and started throwing logs into the fireplace, mechanically building a fire while his thoughts were thousands of miles away.
“You want some dinner?” Vix called, apparently having better luck with the hidden bounty of the freezer than Dash had.
“Sure,” he said begrudgingly, crouching down in front of the hearth and striking a match on the side of it, drawing flame.
He looked at the dancing, licking tongues for a second before flicking it onto the logs along with some crumpled-up newspaper. The fire roared to life almost immediately, curling around the dry twigs and logs and beginning to crackle. Dash took a deep breath, remaining there for perhaps longer than he needed to, watching the blaze.
There was something soothing about looking at the intense heat of a fire after being on the road, or in the skies as it were, for much of the past few months. Their job rarely gave the Frost brothers a moment to catch their breaths, but Christmas was, obviously, brutal. Every second was carefully planned, plotted, and accounted for.
The guys who handled logistics for them, including their brother Ru who always did a few runs as well, always struck Dash as sort of demi-gods for managing the fleet of massive jumbo cargo haulers and the temperamental men who piloted them. It was a disgustingly busy time for them and even now, with Christmas behind them at last, Dash knew there was plenty of work to do by tying up loose ends, distributing packaging, picking up excess, and etcetera. It was all the things the rest of the Frosts were doing, with the slight exception of Blitz, him, and Vix.
Every year, one or more of them got put on time-out and told to cool their heels before Christmas—this year it was Blitz—and three of them were rotated into vacation more after the first rush of Christmas was over. There were plenty of reasons for that, but most important of those was the fact that none of the Frosts were very good with taking any time off unless someone forced them to.
The fact that Blitz had chosen this year to volunteer for the whole week, including New Year’s, would have struck every one of the Frosts as extremely odd if they weren’t all well aware of the little delivery Don and Pran had made to Georgia. Blitz Frost finding love during Christmas had to be on the top of the list of things Dash found hard to believe. And though he was far too proud to admit it, he wasn’t completely innocent when it came to feeling a slight bit of jealousy toward his older brother.
That may have been an even bigger shocker to Dash than the bit about Blitz.
He only realized that he’d been crouching like a damn gargoyle for a long time when the smells of food started penetrating his gloomy thoughts. He sniffed at the air—pizza—and looked up, meeting Vix’s gaze. Vix was leaning on the counter, looking far too pleased with himself, a mild smirk on his lips.
“Dinner will be done in a minute. You okay, man?”
“Like a kid with an Xbox,” Dash grumbled, standing up and grabbing for his drink again.
“You ready for the ball tomorrow?” Vix asked casually, obviously trying to make it look like it was no big deal at all that he was asking.
But Dash was no fool. He shot his brother a look that told him in no short order to choose his words carefully, because after Rio, Dash was in no mood to play nice. They’d dropped Vix’s plane off at North Pole Central and taken Dash’s to get to Shifter Grove. It wasn’t protocol, taking one of their own planes to Shifter Grove, but nothing else could navigate the weather and apparently at least one Frost brother had to be in attendance at the Winter Ball.
“Ready? You mean do I have a mask and a drinking habit to get through it? Sure do,” Dash scoffed as Vix bent to take the pizza out of the oven.
“Hey, we’re supposed to make the family proud. Be the best reindeers we can be in that pile of wolves, bears, and tigers,” Vix laughed, cutting slices and tossing them on two plates in high stacks before handing one of them to Dash.
“Right. Because that’s what I need after being in the air for twenty-one consecutive days. Some small-talk with a pack of wolves about how there aren’t enough herbivorous mammals in Shifter Grove for them to stalk and irritate,” Dash grumbled, taking his plate and resigning himself to the couch.
“You know none of them are like that,” Vix said, following Dash with a mouth full of pizza. “Besides, a Frost has always gone to that event. Even when there were five people in attendance because that’s all we had around Shifter Grove. Now it’s a real shindig. They’re holding it in a mansion. The Warfangs have been building that place for years now, for a snow leopard I think.”
“You keep saying names thinking that I know them,” Dash commented, kicking his feet up on the table and almost pushing his glass off along with it.
Still, as he chewed the decidedly bland pizza, his thoughts roiled around the possibility of getting out of the house the next evening. He was beaten and battered, yes, and with any luck he would be sleeping twelve hours a night for the next five or so days, but if he knew anything about himself at all then it was that he needed to keep in action to stay out of trouble. He wasn’t even going to try and deceive himself—if there was a commotion to be caused, he’d be the guy doing it.
Hell, maybe if he made a big enough mess of the ball, none of his brothers would try and drag him to it again? Sounded like an excellent way to get out of post-Christmas break for the next ten years.
Smirking to himself he took another bite, feeling his muscles relaxing. Who knew, he might even find a cute girl at the party, one not claimed by someone looking for a fight, and have some fun. Or, actually, maybe it would be better if she were claimed. Bigger fight. It didn’t sound like too bad of an idea, now that he thought of it.
“What are you plotting, Dash?” Vix asked suddenly.
Dash paused, looking at his brother. Vix’s dark brows were muddled together in a frown and he was practically glaring at Dash, one hand holding up a slice of pizza like it was a knife, pointed at Dash in an accusatory fashion. Dash lifted his hands, grinning slyly and shaking his head.
“Me? Nothing. Wasn’t thinking about anything else other than how well I’m going to sleep tonight, knowing we’re going to have some fun tomorrow evening. Hey, do you think we should call Cupid, see if he handled that mess with France?” Dash asked, trying to veer Vix off the scent.
With his bloodhound of a little brother with him, Dash couldn’t be entirely sure that he’d be left in peace to cause a commotion. Vix was one of those guys with morals and good breeding. Spirits only knew where he got those from, considering the mass of brothers he had been raised with, and over all the years, he’d probably been the most conscientious of the Frost bunch. Well, he and Ru, but they were pretty similar in that regard.
“Uh-huh,” Vix said, taking a bite of the slice he’d been wielding like a weapon against Dash. “You watch out, man. I’m not above tackling you in the middle of a masquerade ball, you know.”
“Counting on it,” Dash noted, ducking as a slice of tomato came hurtling toward his head.
CHAPTER THREE
Blair
“I can’t believe you dragged me here, Aubrey,” Blair said, smoothing out the front of her dress nervously as she clung to Aubrey’s arm.
They had arrived only minutes ago, but Blair was already overwhelmed. Her job as an architect in Los Angeles took her to plenty of breathtaking places, but this mansion in Idaho was taking the cake. It had at least three floors and the grounds were massive, complete with a sprawling drive up to the front of the house. It was b
uilt in the style of a ski cabin, just ridiculously larger and more posh.
Everything was thought out to perfection, every detail carefully crafted and planned. Blair didn’t have time to get overwhelmed by the sprawling mass of guests because she was so busy cooing over the house itself. It had those wide, sweeping staircases that always made her think of Gone With the Wind and the kind of floor-to-ceiling windows that made her feel bad for whoever was tasked with keeping the place clean. But it sure was impressive.
“Do you want a drink? You look like you need a drink. Stay here,” Aubrey told her, laughter in her voice as they’d entered the main hall and Blair was staring slack-jawed at the ceiling, admiring the careful wood carvings that sprawled the length and width of it.
It took her a moment to realize that she’d been left alone. Biting her lip, Blair looked around, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She was wearing the silver dress they’d decided on the day before, but she’d gone with loose, natural curls in an elegant up-do instead of the pained and preened jagged rolls that she’d tried the day before. With Aubrey’s expert hand, even her makeup looked good.
Not that anyone gets to see it under this mask, she thought, adjusting the silver, white, and black cover on her nose a bit, the lace tickling her skin every now and then.
Only now did she really take a second to appreciate the extent of the party she’d found herself in. All of Idaho seemed to have come together, though Aubrey told her in no few details that most if not all of the people there would be shifters or their mates. Most all of the men were tall, strapping, wide-shouldered, and handsome even when coming from Los Angeles’s unrealistic standards.
And the women? Wow. For a place known for plaid and jeans, the Shifter Grove populace sure knew how to clean up well. Aubrey’s comment had been that it was because of all the weddings in the area—everyone had gotten their evening wear game down to the T. Her vision got blurry from the countless colorful, gorgeous, full-length dresses and the creative masks as people whizzed by, the huge banquet hall choked to the rafters with people laughing, dancing, and having a good time.
Blair took a breath and took a few steps aside, finding that she was blocking the entrance into the room. She found herself squished by a table just in time to hear some sort of a racket coming from her left. Curiosity got the best of her and she raised up on her tiptoes, trying to see over the heads of the very tall men around her, and failing miserably. All she could tell was that there was a lot of laughter coming from one end of the room and then considerable shouting.
It wasn’t more than a couple dozen seconds until the body of a muscled, devilishly handsome man wearing a wide grin and a striped mask with gold accents came scuttling through the crowd. That was really the only way to describe what he was doing. He was hunched over, his knees bent, rushing through the mass of bodies like he was trying to disappear in it, sometimes throwing glances over his shoulder.
His hasty exit ended at Blair when he grabbed her by the hips and spun her around quickly to hide behind her, his back against the wall.
“Hey!” she protested, trying to bat his hands off of her. “The hell do you think you’re doing!”
But there wasn’t too much fire to her words. Firstly, he’d caught her off-guard, and secondly, it’s hard to argue with someone who makes your body hum with one touch more than your boyfriend did over the course of five years. Literally, her body felt like it was thrumming with electricity, sudden jolts running through her in endless succession, hot and cold. She sucked in a breath and held it, dumbfounded.
What the hell is this? I haven’t even had a drink yet. I can’t be drunk!
“Shh,” he hushed her gruffly, squeezing his fingers into her hips a bit and damn near making her moan as a result.
It was ridiculous. Blair felt ridiculous. She could have easily wrangled herself free from his grasp and put distance between them, but she didn’t want to. She kept telling herself that it was the shock because it had happened so fast, but her body wouldn’t listen to a word of that. His touch felt good. That’s why she didn’t leave.
“Dash freaking Frost, if I get my hands on you, I’ll—” But Blair never heard what he was going to do. The tall man stomped past her, barely exchanging a look as he was obviously looking for someone, on his way out the room.
The man keeping a firm hand on her laughed as soon as he had passed, standing up and twirling her around by her hips. Face to face with his grin, Blair considered holding onto that breath for a moment longer. Jesus Christ, he was gorgeous. And she wasn’t the kind of girl to go goo-goo over a dimpled chin and chiseled cheekbones, but this man put the house to shame and that was saying something.
His smile wavered for a second and his hands lingered on her for maybe a smidge too long before he let her go, and Blair was sad to see him do it. Twinkling hazel eyes and a broad grin completed the package, but there was plenty to like even if he’d been growling and glowering at her. Come to think of it, a little growl would have been interesting…
“Sorry, sugar. I needed somewhere to hide and I figured Vix couldn’t see past that beautiful body of yours to catch me. I’m Dash Frost. Who do I have the pleasure of using as a human shield?” he asked, stretching out his hand, which had long fingers and a rugged paw that Blair would have preferred to have around her waist again.
She cocked a brow at him and shifted her weight on one hip. Why was it that the cute ones always said the dumbest things?
“Aren’t you being a bit forward, Dash?” she asked, though she couldn’t completely hide the grin that wanted to curl on her lips.
He didn’t retract the hand though. He kept it there as he stared her down, his identity no longer hidden even if he wore the mask. But that was all fine for Blair. She didn’t know anyone here anyway.
“Me? Forward? Yes. Come to think of it, always. Why go around when you can go straight for what you want, right?” he said, flashing her another dashing grin, which seemed to be his thing.
Blair couldn’t deny that it made her a little weak in the knees, but she stood her ground. If anything, she didn’t want to be the kind of girl who would turn to mush at the feet of the first attractive man who paid attention to her... even if he had made her pulse with need from the very moment he laid his hands on her.
“Well, you’re going to try a bit harder with me, Dash. Like any self-respecting human shield, I expect a bit of wooing before I trade my name,” Blair said, smirking.
Are you flirting? You’re flirting, aren’t you? Stop it. Stop it!
But she couldn’t. Not really. Not when he was looking at her like he was inches from throwing her on the ground, tearing her mask off, and kissing her until she couldn’t deny him anything he wanted. And the fact that she felt this emotion so clearly and strongly was odd in itself. Why did he have this effect on her?!
“Fine, sugar. I’m just going to call you that. And I’ll come find you when you’re in a more cooperative mood,” he said, folding his hand into his pocket.
He gave her a look that made her heart throb like she was staring at the reincarnation of James Dean, and then pushed past her, nodding to Aubrey and Deacon as he evaporated into the throng of people.
“I see you met the horned devil, huh?” Aubrey commented, handing Blair a whiskey sour and sucking on the straw of her own drink.
“The horned devil?” Blair asked, surprised and feeling a tiny bit flushed as she took a hefty gulp from her drink.
She wasn’t sure what it was about that guy, but he got her oddly worked up. Never had she been the kind of girl who would play coy or barter with her name and number when she liked a guy, but with this one she suddenly felt like she needed to use all her feminine wiles to keep him still for more than a minute. Now that he’d left, she couldn’t help but curse herself for not giving him her name. But at least she knew who he was. That was something, right?
“That was Dash Frost, right?”
“That’s what he told me, anyway,” Blair said, a
little bit confused.
Aubrey gave Deacon a knowing look and Blair wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to be afraid or excited or a bit of both.
“He’s one of the Frost brothers. There’s nine of them if you’d believe it. But that one? I hear he’s a troublemaker. Not sure you want to be playing with fire like that,” Aubrey cautioned, as Deacon nodded discreetly behind her.
“What kind of trouble?” Blair asked, curious despite knowing better.
“Well, they’re not around much because of their jobs, but Dash is sort of a womanizer. I mean, looking like him, you can’t blame him, but… hey!” Aubrey said, giggling as Deacon poked her in the side with a grin.
“Aubrey North, are you regretting your life decisions?” Deacon teased, snaking an arm around her while Blair smiled at their overwhelming cuteness.
“Never! I’m simply trying to explain to my heartbroken friend here that maybe she shouldn’t mess with a guy who was regaling half the room with the most embarrassing stories he could think of about his baby brother a second ago, and who is known to cause a commotion wherever he goes! Is that so wrong?” Aubrey questioned, batting her long lashes behind her red and green mask.
“I guess not,” Deacon agreed with a sigh, scooping her into his arms and embracing her against his chest. “Tell you what, we should go dance and put all these stags out of your head once and for all. I’m bear-footed but I can twirl you around better than anyone else!” he promised.
Blair laughed as Aubrey practically dropped her drink on the table in an effort to rush off with her husband.
“You’ll be all right, won’t you? And you’ll stay away from that buck, right?” Aubrey called over her shoulder. Blair replied with a noncommittal shrug.
As soon as Aubrey was out of sight, Blair took a big swig of her drink and slammed the glass down, a sly smile playing on her lips. Hell no she was not going to stay away. Aubrey had spent most of the previous day telling her that a bit of mischief would do her good. So what could be more mischievous than grabbing a stolen moment with the biggest playboy in the region! No strings, no heartache, just fun.