Frost (Midnight Ice Book One) - Preview!

Chapter One

When Pandora Scott woke on the morning of her twentieth birthday, she knew there'd be no cake, no flickering candles waiting to be blown out with a wish, no presents to rip open, no friendly voices teasing her in song, no cards waiting in the mail slot downstairs.

Because Pandora Scott didn't have friends.

She didn't have family.

And even though she was immortal, she didn't have time for birthdays.

There would, however, be other things she liked. Blood. Threats. Danger. And lots and lots of money. An entire bathtub full. So much she could wipe her butt with the stuff without giving a damn. Not that she'd keep it all, but...

The alarm on her nightstand started beeping.

"I'm up, I'm up," she grumbled, speaking to herself as she slapped her hand down on the plastic clock, annoyed to be pulled from such a glorious train of thought-on her birthday, no less! But in her haste, she smashed the thing completely to pieces.

Somehow, the broken bits kept beeping.

"Oh, come on." She groaned, fangs sliding out with her frustration. After forming a fist, she pounded the alarm to dust and then rolled over, opening her eyes just enough to take in the world outside her window.

Two months in New York, and it was the eighth clock she'd smashed.

This city was definitely getting to her.

And yet...

Pandora smiled, hand still covered in plastic shards as she closed her eyes, blissfully listening to the hustle and bustle taking place outside. New York was loud and busy, especially for a person with supernaturally enhanced hearing. Cars honked every second of the day. Pigeons squawked. People spoke nonstop-in their apartments, in restaurants, walking down the street. There was no peace and no quiet, but Pandora loved it. Because there was so much room to pretend, so many lives to lose herself in, so many places a girl could go to forget.

The enclave had been different.

Isolated.

Highly secure.

Inescapable.

She'd grown up in the middle of the woods, far off the main roads, tucked in a valley in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. But the enclave had needed to be hidden to keep her people concealed from normal human life, to keep their secrets safe. The ancient Greeks had first called them titans. The original gods. The creators of all things.

They weren't. Not even close. But the name had stuck.

Titans.

In the ancient times, they'd wanted to be treated as gods among men. Almost every culture referenced them in some way. The Greek god Zeus. The Aztec god Camaxtli. The Roman goddess Minerva. The Celtic god Alator. The Egyptian god Seth. The list went on. They had once been the kings and queens of wars and hunts, of strength and immortality, of power. And they'd let themselves fade into myth, into legend. Because they were never meant to be gods or celebrities or saints. Thousands of years ago, they'd been given power beyond belief for one purpose and one purpose alone-to protect mankind from the evils it didn't even know existed.

Werefolk.

Witches.

Demons.

Fae.

And a hundred other supernaturals whispered about in storybooks.

Pandora had been born to protect mankind, raised to use her power for good, bred to join the Order of Othrys-the titan police force that kept the peace all across the globe, in every continent, every country. Not all supernaturals were evil, but as the saying went, when they were good, they were very, very good, and when they were bad, they were horrid. If any creature anywhere stepped out of line, threatening people's safety, they'd face a titan soon enough. And they'd lose.