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Chapter 1
Jack
“For the last time, Mother, I am not getting married,” I said, keeping my voice calm and respectful, even though I was seriously annoyed. “I’m going there to undo this mess. That’s all.”
Mother harrumphed and folded her arms on her chest. She was about three heads shorter than me, a festive apron embroidered with holly covering her torso and legs, the silver fur on her arms shiny from brushing. With a pointed look, she glanced atmyfur, which hadn’t been brushed in weeks, and tsked.
“Is that what you’re wearing to your wedding?” she asked, her face wrinkling in genteel displeasure. “Boy, that woman will run for the hills when she sees you.”
I glanced down, wondering what in a reindeer’s ass was wrong with my leather britches. They covered the important bits, which was all that mattered. And who needed a shirt when they had a chest full of bluish,maybea bit tangled but very warm, fur?
“Good,” I said through clenched teeth. “Because I am not getting married. I’m too young! Also, she’ll run no matter what I wear, Mother. You know how humans are.”
A troubled look crossed her face before her orange eyes glimmered with renewed determination. Mother never let worries settle on her shoulders. She brushed them off just as she brushed tangles out of her fur.
“Well, do what you must,” she conceded, turning around to pummel her large, clawed fists into a big chunk of dough that smelled of spices and honey. Her tail swished with agitation, but when she looked at me, her eyes were kind. “And if you do marry her, the second house down the street will be yours. Just as promised.”
I leaned down carefully, mindful of my antlers, and gave her furry cheek a kiss. “Don’t worry, Ma. It’s not my time yet.”
She sighed but said nothing, taking her emotions out on the dough instead. I cast one final look at the spacious kitchen, with the merry fire roaring in the hearth, gleaming copper and steel pots hanging in neat rows, and garlands of dried herbs dangling under the ceiling. Even though I knew I wouldn’t bring my human bride here—I wasn’t going to marry her—I couldn’t help but look at our house with fresh eyes, wondering what a human would think of it.
The room was large, the ceiling high, just like all ceilings in the house that was the Frost family seat. The men in our family were tall, reaching up to seven feet including the antlers.
The floors were made of wood, worn but clean and polished, and beautiful fairy candles stood on the windowsills and shelves lining the walls. They burned in hues of orange, pink, and yellow, their magical fires flickering enchantingly.
The official Yule celebrations would start in two days. The Yule Lads Parade would come through our small mountain town, and after that, the Yule season would be officially open. But Mother always started decorating and baking long before then. Hence the colorful fairy lights.
The kitchen was easily the hottest room in the house with its fire roaring at all hours of the day, so I stepped out with a sigh of relief, quickly cooling off in the corridor.
It wasn’t easy to keep the enormous house warm in winter, and only the key rooms had a fire going most of the time. Kitchen, the living room, and long ago—the nursery. Now, me and my brothers were all grown up, and the oldest two, who were married with children, lived in the two houses flanking the main one. There were five of us, and at 54, I was one of the youngest, with only Cris younger than me. My two unmarried brothers lived in the family home, too.
Those were the rules. Single men lived with their parents. Married ones got their own houses.
I didn’t mind living with my parents. For one, I spent most of my time in the carpentry workshop where I made furniture using the old family methods, so we only crossed paths at mealtimes. And even my married brothers, Ruslan and Ivo, brought their families to dine with us most of the time, so living apart didn’t really meanbeingapart. Family stuck together.
Soren and Cris lived in the family home, and it was mostly their fault—and Ivo’s—that I was in my current predicament. Namely, betrothed to a stranger through the matchmaking temple.
Not bothering with a coat, I stomped out of the house, over twenty Yule bells decorating the front door ringing fiercely when I shut it. The day was bright, the pristine snow reflecting the weak winter sunlight with blinding whiteness. I had cleared a path this morning, so I walked down to the gate, the piles of snow on either side of me reaching up to my hips.
“Uncle Jack!” little Mary called, waving at me from the neighboring yard where she played with her brother. “Where are you going? Will you bring us presents?”
I waved back and shook my head with a grin. “Just running an errand, and no presents for you yet, little fiend. Have to wait for Ole Frost like everyone else.”
She pouted, her furry face twitching adorably, and I grinned before heading up to the main square where the portal was. I might have even brought them some candy, but temples didn’t sell any. And what theydidsell wasn’t suitable for children. My cheeks grew hot under the fur when I thought about the pamphlets I’d been sent along with the confirmation of my match.
As a member of the larger races, I was apparently required to procure a special oil that would “help my bride accommodate me without being injured”. Which just meant, in common speak, that I was likely too big for her and would rip her apart with my cock. I snorted. One more reason not to bother with humans.
They just couldn’t handle us.
I huffed angrily, speeding up to the sound of snow crunching under my feet. I shouldn’t have agreed to the Yule dare game with my brothers. Though to be fair, I never expected Ivo to give me such an outrageous dare.
We all knew about the matchmaking temples, and more and more males of other races used their services to get human wives. No one in our town ever did, though. We were a traditional folk, and we married for normal reasons: for love, because the girl was pregnant, or to force peace upon feuding families.
To pay for a bride, even if the money was a kind of dowry that supported her family, was ridiculous. And to get matched to somebody using just a drop of blood—preposterous.
So when Ivo dared me to send a sample to the temple, producing an official blood-drawing kit, I thought it was a prank. Because the mere idea of applying for a human bride was laughable. Humans were fearful, weak, and ridiculously fragile. On the rare occasions when human traders passed through our lands, they got injured more often than not, slipping and breaking their thin legs on perfectly even ground.
They stared, too. We Frosts were a friendly bunch, always calling out greetings to strangers, but instead of answering, most humans just gaped with their mouths hanging open. Mother maintained they were afraid because we were big, antlered, and furry, as opposed to their small, furless bodies that required layers upon layers of clothes to stay warm.
