Of Frost and Fire
Prologue
"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings."
― Anais Nin
The deep voice of the stranger was the first and only thing that greeted her long before her eyelids, which had remained drooping for up to ten hours up until now, pushed open.
"Is it possible that you finally woke up, Miss. Cuthbert?" His dark blue eyes, which were raging like a windy day's sky, met hers and her heart skipped a beat.
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