Wed to Jack Frost, page 1
Wed to Jack Frost
Arranged Monster Mates
Layla Fae
Copyright © 2023 Layla Fae
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Content note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Afterword
Free Monster Romance
Books In This Series
Books By This Author
Dedication
I have 24 books out and not one of them is dedicated to my wonderful, hard-working, supportive husband. I hereby rectify this horrible oversight.
My beloved, darling hubby—this one is for you.
Content note
I’m so used to writing trigger warnings for my books, I thought long and hard about what to include here, but truth is, I don’t think there is much triggering content in Wed to Jack Frost. It’s filled with cozy intimacy, smut, and Christmas fluff.
That said, there is verbal abuse and parental neglect in the heroine’s past, mentioned briefly.
Now for the kinks and other yummies! This book includes: femdom, pegging, tail play, praise, gentle degradation, impact play, fur brushing, knotting, knotting cuddles, penetrative sex as well as non-penetrative sex, use of a magical lubricant, size difference, virgin heroine, own sperm consumption by the hero, and orc milking porn.
I hope you enjoy this Christmas monster romance! See you on the other side.
Chapter 1
Jack
“For the last time, Mother, I am not getting married,” I said, keeping my voice calm and respectful, even though I was seriously annoyed. “I’m going there to undo this mess. That’s all.”
Mother harrumphed and folded her arms on her chest. She was about three heads shorter than me, a festive apron embroidered with holly covering her torso and legs, the silver fur on her arms shiny from brushing. With a pointed look, she glanced at my fur, which hadn’t been brushed in weeks, and tsked.
“Is that what you’re wearing to your wedding?” she asked, her face wrinkling in genteel displeasure. “Boy, that woman will run for the hills when she sees you.”
I glanced down, wondering what in a reindeer’s ass was wrong with my leather britches. They covered the important bits, which was all that mattered. And who needed a shirt when they had a chest full of bluish, maybe a bit tangled but very warm, fur?
“Good,” I said through clenched teeth. “Because I am not getting married. I’m too young! Also, she’ll run no matter what I wear, Mother. You know how humans are.”
A troubled look crossed her face before her orange eyes glimmered with renewed determination. Mother never let worries settle on her shoulders. She brushed them off just as she brushed tangles out of her fur.
“Well, do what you must,” she conceded, turning around to pummel her large, clawed fists into a big chunk of dough that smelled of spices and honey. Her tail swished with agitation, but when she looked at me, her eyes were kind. “And if you do marry her, the second house down the street will be yours. Just as promised.”
I leaned down carefully, mindful of my antlers, and gave her furry cheek a kiss. “Don’t worry, Ma. It’s not my time yet.”
She sighed but said nothing, taking her emotions out on the dough instead. I cast one final look at the spacious kitchen, with the merry fire roaring in the hearth, gleaming copper and steel pots hanging in neat rows, and garlands of dried herbs dangling under the ceiling. Even though I knew I wouldn’t bring my human bride here—I wasn’t going to marry her—I couldn’t help but look at our house with fresh eyes, wondering what a human would think of it.
The room was large, the ceiling high, just like all ceilings in the house that was the Frost family seat. The men in our family were tall, reaching up to seven feet including the antlers.
The floors were made of wood, worn but clean and polished, and beautiful fairy candles stood on the windowsills and shelves lining the walls. They burned in hues of orange, pink, and yellow, their magical fires flickering enchantingly.
The official Yule celebrations would start in two days. The Yule Lads Parade would come through our small mountain town, and after that, the Yule season would be officially open. But Mother always started decorating and baking long before then. Hence the colorful fairy lights.
The kitchen was easily the hottest room in the house with its fire roaring at all hours of the day, so I stepped out with a sigh of relief, quickly cooling off in the corridor.
It wasn’t easy to keep the enormous house warm in winter, and only the key rooms had a fire going most of the time. Kitchen, the living room, and long ago—the nursery. Now, me and my brothers were all grown up, and the oldest two, who were married with children, lived in the two houses flanking the main one. There were five of us, and at 54, I was one of the youngest, with only Cris younger than me. My two unmarried brothers lived in the family home, too.
Those were the rules. Single men lived with their parents. Married ones got their own houses.
I didn’t mind living with my parents. For one, I spent most of my time in the carpentry workshop where I made furniture using the old family methods, so we only crossed paths at mealtimes. And even my married brothers, Ruslan and Ivo, brought their families to dine with us most of the time, so living apart didn’t really mean being apart. Family stuck together.
Soren and Cris lived in the family home, and it was mostly their fault—and Ivo’s—that I was in my current predicament. Namely, betrothed to a stranger through the matchmaking temple.
Not bothering with a coat, I stomped out of the house, over twenty Yule bells decorating the front door ringing fiercely when I shut it. The day was bright, the pristine snow reflecting the weak winter sunlight with blinding whiteness. I had cleared a path this morning, so I walked down to the gate, the piles of snow on either side of me reaching up to my hips.
“Uncle Jack!” little Mary called, waving at me from the neighboring yard where she played with her brother. “Where are you going? Will you bring us presents?”
I waved back and shook my head with a grin. “Just running an errand, and no presents for you yet, little fiend. Have to wait for Ole Frost like everyone else.”
She pouted, her furry face twitching adorably, and I grinned before heading up to the main square where the portal was. I might have even brought them some candy, but temples didn’t sell any. And what they did sell wasn’t suitable for children. My cheeks grew hot under the fur when I thought about the pamphlets I’d been sent along with the confirmation of my match.
As a member of the larger races, I was apparently required to procure a special oil that would “help my bride accommodate me without being injured”. Which just meant, in common speak, that I was likely too big for her and would rip her apart with my cock. I snorted. One more reason not to bother with humans.
They just couldn’t handle us.
I huffed angrily, speeding up to the sound of snow crunching under my feet. I shouldn’t have agreed to the Yule dare game with my brothers. Though to be fair, I never expected Ivo to give me such an outrageous dare.
We all knew about the matchmaking temples, and more and more males of other races used their services to get human wives. No one in our town ever did, though. We were a traditional folk, and we married for normal reasons: for love, because the girl was pregnant, or to force peace upon feuding families.
To pay for a bride, even if the money was a kind of dowry that supported her family, was ridiculous. And to get matched to somebody using just a drop of blood—preposterous.
So when Ivo dared me to send a sample to the temple, producing an official blood-drawing kit, I thought it was a prank. Because the mere idea of applying for a human bride was laughable. Humans were fearful, weak, and ridiculously fragile. On the rare occasions when human traders passed through our lands, they got injured more often than not, slipping and breaking their thin legs on perfectly even ground.
They stared, too. We Frosts were a friendly bunch, always calling out greetings to strangers, but instead of answering, most humans just gaped with their mouths hanging open. Mother maintained they were afraid because we were big, antlered, and furry, as opposed to their small, furless bodies that required layers upon layers of clothes to stay warm.
As I said. Fearful, breakable creatures.
It stood to reason, I wo
We drew the blood sample from my finger, sealed it, and Ivo made a point of following me to the portal to make sure I sent it. When I sobered up the next day and had just set out to withdraw my application, a messenger came from the temple, informing me I got a match.
Now, two days later, was the date of my wedding. My bride waited for me in the temple, and I was going there not to say my wedding vows, but to politely reject her.
Because I’d sooner freeze than marry a human.
Chapter 2
Scarlett
He was late. I paced from one end of the empty wedding chamber to the other, my stomping footsteps echoing louder and louder against the marble walls. It was so fucking typical of a man, I thought, clenching my jaw so hard, it hurt. Disrespecting his future wife right from the start.
Well, at least I knew what to expect of him. I could brace myself and take all the scorn and disrespect he would surely dish out, because I was used to it. My father had trained me well.
The heavy skirts of my woolen dress swished around me with every angry step, and I raked my fingers through my long, blond hair. Even though I had taken great care to brush it this morning, it was already frizzy, small curls forming where the snow had melted during my journey. The resulting look was likely hideous, and I gritted my teeth, refusing to let it bother me.
It did, though. I couldn’t help but think I should have worn a braid. I would have—if not for my mother.
“Leave it loose,” she said when I was getting ready in the morning. “That hair is your only womanly quality. You don’t want to scare him away with your boyish looks, do you?”
And even though that pill was so bitter, it burned my throat, I swallowed it with difficulty and did as she said. Because it was true. I didn’t want my future monster husband, no matter how repulsive, disrespectful, and tardy he was, to reject me. I would do anything for him to take me away. I desperately wanted to be free of my mother’s harping, the village people who scoffed whenever they saw me, and the deadly burden of my father’s debts crushing me every night so hard, I couldn’t breathe.
My father was dead, but in the final years of his life, he managed to drink away every last penny Mother and I made. He amassed a mountain of debts from goblin usurers, and goblins were known for one thing—they always got their money back.
Already, me and Mother had been insulted and threatened with arson. Only a few days ago, the goblins came again, giving us one last chance to pay up before they set fire to the old, neglected shack where we lived.
Being the goblins’ debtors immediately upset Mother’s and my social standing, already wobbly because of my father’s drunkenness. We were pariahs and no one was willing to help us.
So when I finally got my match from the temple, over a year after sending in my application, I wept from joy, even though I didn’t usually cry. The money my monster husband would pay for me was enough to cover my father’s debts. It would free my mother from his shadow and let me leave her and our unfriendly village behind with a clear conscience.
Did I dread marrying a monster? Maybe, but the benefits far outweighed the disadvantages. Because one good thing about the matchmaking temples was the generous settlements they required from the monster grooms in return for matching them with human women.
Getting away from my home village, a place of many dashed hopes and scornful looks, was an added bonus. But for all that to happen, I actually had to marry the monster and then have sex with him. Only consummated marriages were valid.
I stopped in front of the gilded door leading into the corridor outside the chamber. My hands shook, and I balled them into fists, trying to control the outward signs of my nerves. Because I wasn’t just angry at my groom for being late. The fury was, frankly, a cover-up. Anger was my usual way of dealing with the sea of fear underneath.
I was truly terrified of meeting my new husband.
Even though the priestess who processed my match told me what he was—a male from the old lineage of Frosts from the mountains—I had no idea what he looked like. Did he have fangs and claws? Batlike wings? Spikes running down his back? Was he stupid and brutish or gentle and refined?
I had no idea. Before today, I had never heard of the Frosts, expecting to be matched to something more common, like a troll, a vampire, or some type of shifter.
Or no one at all, if I were completely honest with myself. My father had drilled into me that I was undesirable, a shrew and a bitch unfit for marriage. Sometimes, his words got so deep under my skin, I believed them. But I also knew, logically, he was wrong. I could be kind and friendly. Maybe. Sometimes. Mostly toward women and children.
He simply never gave me a chance, because he had such a foul temper, the only way to deal with him was with snarls and barbed insults.
I hugged myself, squeezing my arms tight with nervous fingers, and looked around helplessly. There was no clock in the wedding chamber. I had no idea how much time had passed since the priestess left me here, telling me she’d be back in ten minutes with my groom. All I knew was the promised ten minutes passed a long time ago.
Was he simply late? Or was he stuck dealing with the paperwork? Maybe he had applied on a lark and now couldn’t pay?
I huffed and threw the door open, stomping out into the corridor leading to the main area of the temple. I wasn’t good at sitting patiently in a corner, and I wouldn’t do so now. If he was in the temple already, I would meet him head on, no matter how scared the prospect made me.
I walked fast, fueling my rage with fighting thoughts. So he thinks he can disrespect me? He thinks I’ll just meekly wait for him because he’s a big, scary beast? Tough luck, monster boy. I’m coming for you, and I’ll drag you to that altar with bare hands if I have to.
When I reached the main area, I stopped, looking around the brightly lit hall. It was big, with a domed ceiling supported by impressive columns made of veined blue marble. Circular stations were evenly spaced out on the marble floor, each manned by a priestess. On the far side of the hall, a portal shimmered with blue and green light, a bored operator standing by the golden arch.
It wasn’t overly busy—just six monster males standing at various stations. I narrowed my eyes, looking them over. An ogre, a dark elf, an unsettling male looking human apart from his wide, flapping ears, a plantlike creature with a row of sparkling eyes around their head, a large, strange beast sporting a set of feathery, pink-and-gold wings, and…
I took a step forward, my stomach lurching. I didn’t know how, but I knew. That was him.
Tall and muscular, the male was of a humanlike build, but burlier and wider in the shoulders than the human men I knew. His body, from the top of his head to his bare feet ending in blunt black claws, was covered in longish, gray fur that had a blue sheen to it.
A pair of short antlers sprouted from his temples, a symmetrical bony structure curling from their bases resting over his forehead, forming something that looked like a crown. His face was humanlike, the fur covering his cheeks short, longer only at his chin and jaw.
His eyes burned orange, his mouth set in a grimace. And maybe I would have dwelled on that unhappy expression, but my attention was instantly drawn to movement behind his leather clad thighs.
A long, furless tail that reached down mid-calf swished behind him in agitation. It was gray and looked strong, swinging rapidly from side to side while the monster listened to the priestess—my priestess—explaining something to him with an exasperated expression. Suddenly, he reeled back from the counter, the tail freezing, poised up into the air before it twisted, showing an incredible range of motion.
It wasn’t like a dog’s tail, that much was clear. It looked like it could grab things, winding around them with precision. Like another limb.
“Mister Frost, please, those are the rules! You have to at least meet the bride before you…”
The priestess lowered her voice, but that was fine. I was already striding toward my future groom, my fear folded into a tiny ball and buried under layers of fury and impatience. Here he was, refusing to even meet me, when my very survival depended on him. It was just so typical.
