Bill Carter was starving and dying of exposure when he fell
asleep by the standing stone in the Russian Arctic. Sacrificing his life to
save his friends, he never expected to wake up, warm, safe and healed, in the
presence of the immortal Snow Maid.
Polina had been alone for decades, her youth slowly draining
away as belief in her faded in the world above. She had taken Bill's life in trade for those of his companions. Would the heat of their passion ignite an eternal love, or were the differences between them too great?
“Stop it stop it stop
it!” she gasped, still giggling, barely able to get the words out. She
slowly got control of herself. She stood up, Bill helping her. Then he stood
back, looking at her with astonishment.
She was visibly growing younger before his very eyes. As he
watched, the last remnants of crow's feet vanished from her eyes and the
corners of her mouth. Faint age spots disappeared from her throat. Pale gold
hair flowed like a molten river down her back, without even the slightest trace
of gray. Her stomach shrank, the last remnants of her belly disappearing as her
waist drew inwards over the curved swell of her hips. Her bosom tightened,
breasts rising round, high and firm from her chest, with not the faintest hint
of a sag. Even through the fabric of her dress, he could see the firm outlines
of her nipples pressing into the cloth.
She was amazingly, radiantly, incandescently beautiful, as awe-inspiring and terrible as a blizzard on the plains.
She caught his shocked gaze. Her hand flew to her face and a
sudden inward look came over her as she delved deep into the spirit world.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh my! Oh!”
Her eyes grew wide and soft, the pupils dilating with desire. She ran
her hands down her body, gently wondering, mouth curving in a smile as she felt
the loose fit of her dress over her belly, took in the place where the fabric
of her bodice strained to contain her newly restored breasts. Her thighs
shifted, rubbing against each other, and she made a pleased sound low in her throat as warmth grew in her womanly core.
She looked up again,
glorious eyes shifting hues even as he looked, from ice gray to wintry blue to pale green. He flinched back in fear from her hungry gaze and she took a step
away from him, eyes closing as she fought for control.
“She's here. I'm
not…Bill, I'm not ready. I didn't think she would come so soon.
“My friend, please forgive me. I must leave you tonight. I must…I will see you tomorrow.”
A trifle unsteadily, she walked out of the room.
She felt like howling her triumph to the heavens. She felt
like weeping in despair.
She was the Snow Maid again. After decades of forced
celibacy and crushing loneliness, she had it all back. Power. Youth. Beauty.
And it would all be dust in her mouth if she didn't have the love of the small, strong, impossibly courageous young man who had captured her heart with his silent bravery, in the face of challenges that would have driven
most men mad.
She could take him, she knew. Overpower his mind with the
strength of hers. Use his body to slake her lust and break him to her will.
She shuddered in revulsion. No. He had done every task she
set him to with a willing heart. She would not betray him that way. He was fond
of her, she knew. He had been courteously polite with Grandmother, and she thought that his relationship with Mother was deepening into real friendship.
If he hadn't made me laugh…