She starts to closethe door.
“Wait,” I say, and the desperation in my voice stops her. “Please. I truly am injured.”
She peers around the door frame, takes in the blood again, and I watch her pragmatic nature war with her disbelief. “This is insane,” she mutters. “Completely insane. But if I’m having a psychotic break, at least my hallucination is polite and bleeding to death.”
She stares at me for another long moment, then seems to notice the blood soaking through what remains of my thermal gear. Her expression immediately shifts from bemused shock to professional concern.
“Christ, you’re actually bleeding. Okay, we can figure out the whole ‘aliens are real’ thing after we make sure you don’t die on my doorstep. Come on.” She steps back, holding the door wide. “Inside. Now. Before we both freeze to death.”
The invitation hits me with more force than any claiming bite. She is letting me into her sanctuary. Her domain. The place where she has built her careful independence and maintained her solitude.
She is choosing to help the monster, even when she’s not entirely sure I’m not an elaborate hallucination.
I cross the threshold into warmth and light and the overwhelming scent of her presence, and know that nothing will ever be the same for either of us.
“Close the door,” she says, already moving toward what appears to be a first aid station mounted on the far wall. “Before we both freeze.”
I do as she asks, sealing us into her sanctuary together. The sound of the lock engaging seems to echo with finality, cutting us off from the outside world and its complications. The storm howls outside, but inside there is only warmth and the steady competence of a woman who has decided to save a monster’s life.
Whether she knows it or not, she has just made the first choice in a courtship that will change everything.
And I intend to make sure she never regrets it—even if it means defying Mother Morrison herself and every regulation OOPS has ever written about personal attachments.
Some things are worth risking everything for.
She is worth risking everything for.
3
Not What I Expected
Fiona
ThefirstthingInotice is that he’s bleeding all over my clean floor.
The second thing I notice is that his blood is darker than human red, with an almost purplish tint that catches the Christmas tree lights in ways that make my brain hurt.
The third thing I notice is that I’ve just invited a seven-foot alien into my garage, and instead of having a completepsychological breakdown like a sensible person, I’m mentally calculating how much antiseptic I have in my first aid kit.
“Sit,” I tell him, pointing to my battered office chair. “Before you fall down and really mess up my floor. I just mopped this week.”
He moves with surprising grace for someone who’s obviously lost blood, folding his considerable height into the chair with fluid control that makes me think of predators. Big predators. The kind that could absolutely wreck my day if they wanted to.
Up close, he’s even more impossible—pale blue skin that seems to glow faintly, white hair that looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial, and eyes the color of winter ice that track my every movement like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
It’s unnerving as hell.
“What happened?” I ask, pulling the first aid kit from its cabinet and trying not to think too hard about what I’m doing. Because if I think about it—really think about the fact that I’m about to provide medical care to something that could probably bench press my truck—I might do something sensible like lock myself in the bathroom until morning.
“Hunters,” he says, his voice carrying that same careful formality from outside. Like he’s translating every word before he speaks. “They have become more... aggressive in their pursuit of what they call Jack Frost.”
“Right. Because you’re Jack Frost.” I grab antiseptic and gauze, hands moving on autopilot. “The monster everyone’s been seeing for three years. Except you’re not actually a monster, you’re just a really tall alien who apparently got shot by paranoid locals.”
Something that might be amusement flickers across his features. “Paranoid locals? I'm just a courier.”
“Well, they did shoot you. I’m assuming you weren’t actually threatening anyone when it happened.”
I gesture at his shoulder. “Take your coat off so I can see the damage.”
