“Would you like a drink?” the stranger said.
“Sure. And do you know what I would like even more?”
“What?”
“Your name.”
“Iav.”
“Iav?”
For some reason, another shiver rushed through my body.
“What’s your name?” Iav asked.
“Emma. My name’s Emma.”
“Nice to meet you, Emma.”
Then Iav did a very strange thing.
He bent down and kissed me on the hand.
“Another mojito?” he said.
His thumb gently caressed the back of my hand and his eyes—my God, those eyes!—drilled into me, pinning me in place.
“Um, uh, yeah, yes,” I managed. “Please.”
His smile curled the corners of his lips into a full grin and, not taking his eyes from mine, he said:
“I like it when you beg.”
“I’m not begging,” I wanted to say, but the words died on my lips.
A ripple of goosebumps ran through me, a knock-on effect from the earth-shattering kiss we shared.
I hadn’t begged but I knew right then and there I would if he told me to.
What was happening to me?
Vai
Seeing her sitting with her friends in the club made all the effort to find her worthwhile.
She was beautiful with shoulder-length hair and a smile that lit up the room.
She was dressed in a bright yellow dress half a shade darker than her hair.
Stunning.
To think I came this close to dying on the slopes of the Wailing Mountain, this close to never setting eyes on her.
I shivered at the memory of the unbearable cold as I scaled the Wailing Mountain’s sharpest slope.
My body strained against the wind that pummeled me from every direction, seeming to come first from the left, then the right, then directly ahead.
But never from behind.
It couldn’t be seen to aid me in my mission up the sheer cliffs.
The mountain had battled me every inch of the way.
Sometimes it shoved me forward before sweeping my feet out from under me.
Nothing was easy when it came to scaling the mountain.
Nothing but succumbing to death.
And many had.
Too many.
The mountain was said to be home to the spirits of those who’d fallen on its slopes, failing to make it to the summit.
They were said to be the origin of the mountain’s name.
It wasn’t the wind that wailed but the souls forever trapped on its snowy tips.
They would never reach the summit, would never learn the identity of their fated mate.
They inhabited the wind and the snow and the shifting rocks beneath my feet.
Every time a man fell on the slope, his spirit was added to the challenge.
It was such a long and honored ceremony that many creatures that lived on the mountain made it part of their annual cycle.
Some followed in our wake and ate at the scraps we left behind.
Others were interested in our ordeal and followed with idle curiosity.
Others liked to hunt us.
It took all my skill to overcome the vicious creatures and reach the summit.
I still bore the scars from those battles.
But they were just that.
Battles.
I never looked back.
Turning back only made you realize the distance you had covered would still be there on the climb back down.
The summit was right there, I told myself.
Just ahead.
Just a little further.
I’d told myself the same thing since my very first step.
No matter how many times I said it, it didn’t make it any truer.
Except for when the last step onto the peak finally came.
Then and only then would I be right.
I struggled up the incline, digging the tips of my boots in the ice.
My breath was ragged and sore in my throat, the temperature so cold it clouded about my face, but the wind snatched it from me the moment it was born.
I raised the oxygen canister to my lips and sucked what little remained inside.
The wall of white peeled back like a curtain, revealing the majesty of the view on the other side.
And in the instant it was there, it was gone again.
Many men had fallen at this point, right when they should have been celebrating victory.
The howls on the wind grew louder.
I couldn’t decide if they were cries of victory or jealousy.
The snowdrift rippled like the coils of a snake.
As it waved, it revealed something within its folds like a magician’s show.
Standing before me, tall and glorious, was a mirror carved from ice.
Its outer rim was smooth and perfect, without blemish.
Its glass shimmered with light.
It was unaffected by the buffeting snow and wailing winds.
I reached the small flat expanse of the peak and pulled the muffler free from my face.
It wasn’t wise to bare skin to the elements but I wanted to see her clearly, unimpeded by my protective clothing.
I joined a long line of ancestors who’d journeyed up these precipitous slopes, the most hallowed place in the entire empire.
One of the few that hadn’t been destroyed by the Shadow.
I eased up the slope a few more feet to stand before the circle of ice that shimmered with holy light.
I fell to my knees before it.
A blast of light from an unknown source glinted off its surface and revealed not my reflection but the image of someone else.
My fated mate.
In the mirror’s shimmering surface, I saw her.
She was as beautiful as I knew she would be.
She was humanoid, with two arms and legs.
Her arms lay splayed out from the blankets entwined around about her, her hair spread across her face.
There was no disguising her beauty, how gorgeous she was.
Drool seeped out the corner of her mouth and her left foot protruded from one corner of the bedsheet.
She snored loudly and the bitter cold that slashed at me with each powerful puff of wind eased, forgotten as I gazed upon her.
Warmth spread from the center of my chest to my outer limbs, comforting my frozen hands and feet.
I memorized every line of her face.
I would recall it for the times ahead.
The dark, hard times.
The glow of light in my chest coalesced and formed a tight ball.
I peered down at my chest and pressed a hand to my heart where I felt that golden glow
