Embers (Blaze Series Book 3) by Erika Chase Page A

my name, the tears burning hot and fierce as they run down my face.

Snow White: Winter’s Chill – Chapter One
     
    The wolf growls, a low, dangerous sound,
full of hunger and rage. All the strength drains from my body, and my throat
closes too tightly for me to scream for help.
    The wolf’s coat is ragged, a mottled gray
and black, skin slack against sharp ribs. Spittle drips in long strands from
its jaws, steaming when it hits the snow. The wolf’s yellow eyes are locked on
mine and its tail is down, low and tense. Its growl is a sneer, exposing
jagged, rotting yellow teeth.
    It moves closer—slowly, deliberately, but
even with terror gripping me, I manage to match its movements, taking tiny,
petrified steps backward. The crisp white snow crunches beneath my feet, but I
don’t dare take my eyes off the wolf. The moment I do, it will spring, I know.
That red jaw will close around my throat.
    My heart pounds.
    A feathery plume of steam streams from the
wolf’s jaws as it breathes. Its pink tongue hangs out, and for a moment I
wonder just how scarlet my blood will be, spilling out across the snow as the
wolf rips me to shreds.
    I gasp when I bump into something hard and
unyielding behind me. There’s an awful, painful pulling at my head when I try
to move, and I realize the rough winter bark of the huge oak tree I was just
walking next to, has caught some of my long black hair.
    The wolf growls again.
    I don’t want to die .
    The realization catches me by surprise. It’s
a thread of steel cutting through the thick fog of panic I’m floundering in,
and a trickle of strength seeps back through my body.
    I don’t want to die.
    Slowly, I bend my knees and inch closer to
the ground. The wolf is silent, and that’s almost scarier than its growl.
There’s a dead branch, slick with ice, by my foot. A feeble weapon against the
wolf’s sharp teeth, but I won’t go down without a fight. The wolf’s hungry,
wild eyes follow my every movement. Its body stiffens; its tail lashes
furiously. I freeze, the blood drumming in my temples, before gradually
standing up again, gripping the dead stick.
    Please, I
think. I don’t want to die out here.
    I let out a long, unsteady breath. The wolf
settles back on its haunches, ready to spring. Suddenly, I’m calm. My only hope
is to get in one good blow when it comes for me. Maybe then it will seek easier
prey.
    If it knocks me over, I’m dead.
    It’s as though the wolf can hear my thoughts
and it uncoils and launches itself at me. Fear overtakes me and I drop the
branch, shielding my face with my hands as though that might somehow offer some
protection.
    Fool! Fool! I
open my mouth to scream, finally, as the wolf leaps toward me, slavering, its teeth
coming straight for my neck—
    “Back!” a voice shouts, and suddenly a man
is there, battering the wolf aside with his steel shield. The force of the blow
is like a hammer, and it slams the wolf to the ground. The wolf howls in pain
and outrage, thrashing in the snow until it can finally get back to its feet,
now looking more pitiful than anything else.
    Cold steel shines in my rescuer’s hand,
gleaming in the hard winter light, like the sun reflecting off the packed snow.
    “Come on!” he yells, and stamps a heavy boot
into the ground. He beats his sword against his shield and the sound rings out
as clear and strong as a silver morning bell. The wolf shoots one terrified
glance at him and bolts back into the safety of the trees, its paws churning up
the snow behind it as it disappears into the endless snowy lines of
bare-branched brown elms.
    My breath comes back with the force of a
hurricane. I slump against the tree, landing on the hard ground with a thud
that reverberates through my whole body. My heartbeat hammers in my ears.
    I stare at him, seeing him properly for the
first time, and all I can think is, this is the most beautiful man I’ve ever
seen in my life.
    He’s wearing some kind of uniform, a long,
forest-green