Betrothed to Jack Frost (NOW A PUBLISHED SERIES!)

4)Jack Frost

Elle released a noise that was a cross between a yelp and a garbled scream. It was a strange sound that she remembered hearing on the old Three Stooges shows her grandfather watched. It was very unattractive but it was the first noise to leave her throat as fear overwhelmed her.

Fiddling with the lock and pushing open the door, Elle bolted from the closet, only to go sprawling to the floor as her bare foot caught the slick ice the footprints left. Her elbow hit the ground as her forehead nearly struck the hardwood floor as well. Grabbing her frying pan tightly, Elle scrambled to get up before launching herself down the hall.

"I called the police!" she shouted, quickly making her way to the front door. She whipped a couple lights on as her intruder lazily walked out of the closet and down the hallway.

Shaking, Elle felt her teeth chattering as she tightened her grip on her trusty frying pan. "I haven't seen your face! Get out and then you don't have to kill me!" she shouted crazily, launching herself up the stairs two at a time to make it to her bedroom. As soon as she got to her cell phone she could call the police.

To her fear, a low laugh from the intruder came next. "We both know you didn't call the authorities, Evangeline..." a voice called up the stairs, a soft laugh finishing the man's words.

Elle slammed her bedroom door and locked it behind her. Her brain was reacting quite slowly. The man's words were processing even slower. How would he know her name? Elle didn't recognize the voice. Turning, she hurried and made her way to her backpack. Phone—phone— phone—phone—phone!

It was the mantra she repeated to keep her mind at ease. She needed to find it. Someone broke in, someone who knew her name, and someone who just happened to know what closet she was going to hide in. That moment was probably what scared her more than anything. The man had known where she was going to hide. How?

"Dammit! Where the hell is my phone?" Elle hissed to herself, scrambling around her bedroom. Tossing pillows and papers was not helpful; the phone was not where she thought she had left it.

"Naughty little mouth you've got," the musical voice said from behind her. It caused Elle to pause her frantic searching. Face going white, she quickly deduced her intruder was inside her bedroom. All sense of bravery she felt was now gone. "I see your father's foul language has rubbed off on you," the man said.

Turning around, Elle found a man sculpted from pure ice not far behind her. He was dressed in deep blue clothing, rich with hues of different shades of navy. His long jacket covered the back of his neck, but it was the man's face Elle stared at with petrified fear. The man didn't have a face. He literally looked to be made of ice. Elle saw what appeared to be eyes, ears, a mouth, and a nose, but they were all made of ice alone.

The man's face, neck, and hands are the only body parts that were visible, and yet they too were all made of ice. He was intimidating for Elle, not only because he got through a locked door, but he was also a good six inches taller than her as well as being broad chested over her slender figure.

Elle looked between the man and the door, not understanding how the monster got through the still-locked wooden door. He surely didn't climb up through the two-story window. Elle released a terrified scream before taking the frying pan in her hand to whack the stranger roughly across the face. Elle was good with her hit. She was spot on with accuracy and she hit him very

hard. Tragically, it seemed Elle's move was rather pointless. Holding the pan, she found it developed a large dent in it from where it made contact with the strange ice man's head. Sadly, it didn't seem to affect him. The monster didn't budge, let alone chip any ice from his head.

"Ow," said the creature, his ice lips pressing together in a tight line.

It didn't seem to Elle as though he truly meant that remark. She watched him in silence, her eyes darting back and forth between the man and her weapon. Elle had never hit someone to the face with a frying pan before but she had expected a bit more too happen than absolutely nothing. Any chance of screaming locked her throat. She couldn't work out even a gurgled sound. The ice man/creature seemed to be watching her as if he were studying her. It was almost as though he was watching her as if she were the strange one in this scenario.