Kershov was bounding down the mountain a heartbeat after he sent the barrage of stones toward the wolfess, gigantic paws carrying him with surprising grace over jutting rocks and skidding paths of pebbles. She would not have been able to see him obscured by fog and shielded by the granite outcropping pointing from the cliff face right above her—but she’d have to be blind not to notice the massive white beast suddenly barreling through the mist straight toward her, far larger rocks clattering on his heels. “MOVE!” He barked the command the way a father might shout at a pup, a cry tinged with both authority and anxiety for the little one’s safety. If this strawberry-hued damsel failed to run in time, the glacial gladiator would simply move her himself—veering from his path to charge straight toward her slimmer frame, jaws lashing out to grasp her scruff and drag her. Regardless if she heeded his order or not, Ker planned on saving the fae from the danger he had purposefully placed her in; not a single stone would strike her if he had his way and removed her fast enough.

His self-made avalanche dissipated quickly. Without his claws to pry them loose from their beds, no more rocks had reason to hurl themselves down the mountain. The winter dragon had stepped away from the rust-tinged lass after ensuring her safety . . . but now her turned on her with ears thrown forward aggressively and a low growl thrumming in his breast, tail sailing over his spine. “What is wrong with you? Why didn’t you run out of the way?” Kershov felt very aware of how his face must look to the girl . . . already half-demonic thanks to the mutilated side of his muzzle, an entire section of his jowls shredded away to reveal glistening teeth and dark gum tissue. It was a smile that never portrayed any humor—only bitterness and cruelty. Coupled with his colossal size, the frost-born Pharaoh easily came off as intimidating and monstrous; however, he knew certain tricks that would soften his ferocious façade and making him easier to trust. Someone with a horrifying deformity might also be taken as wise or brave—and these were the qualities he attempted to exude while he stared down the stranger.

“Have you never been on a mountain before?” His voice ground out with a demanding, worried tone, as if accusing her of her own ignorance. How dare you explore, young lady? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? He took a deep breath through is nose, feigning an attempt at finding calm. “Excuse me . . . I don’t even know you’re name, and here I am berating you. I suppose it’s because I might not have had the pleasure of meeting you at all had one of those stones hit something important.”