And then, she shivers. It's small at first, just a tremor. But then another, stronger. Her body is warming up enough to try to generate heat again.
"That's it," I breathe. "That's good. Keep going."
The shivering increases, violent and uncontrollable. It's actually a good sign. It means her body is fighting back. But it also means she's going to wake up soon, disoriented and confused and probably terrified.
In bed with a strange man who's seen her half-naked.
This is going to go well.
Her breathing changes, deepening. Her eyelids flutter.
"Easy," I say quietly, even though I know it won't help. "You're safe. You're in my cabin. You were hypothermic and I had to get you warm."
Her eyes open. Hazel, unfocused, struggling to process where she is. She looks up at me. Looks down at herself, wrapped in blankets. Looks at the bare chest she's pressed against.
I brace for the scream, the panic, the accusations.
Instead, she whispers: "You came for me."
"You were dying," I say roughly. "Someone had to."
"You didn't look yourself." Her voice is hoarse, barely audible. "I felt it. When you carried me. You were different."
Fuck. She was conscious enough to remember that?
"You were delirious," I lie. "From the cold. You don't know what you're talking about."
She closes her eyes, a small smile touching her blue lips. "Liar."
Then she's out again, slipping back into sleep. But it's real sleep now, not unconsciousness. Her breathing is steady, her heartbeat stronger. Color is returning to her face.
She's going to be okay.
I slump against the headboard, exhaustion crashing over me like a wave. My whole body aches. The shift took more out of me than I want to admit. Five years of repression doesn't go away easily.
But she's alive.
This stubborn, reckless, infuriating woman is alive and warm and sleeping in my bed.
And the mate bond I felt in the forest is still there, thrumming between us like a live wire.
I'm so fucked.
Chapter 5 - Autumn
I wake up in stages.
First, there's warmth. Glorious, all-encompassing warmth that feels like being wrapped in summer sunshine. I haven't been warm in so long that for a moment I just float in it, boneless and content.
Then there's pain. My hands sting. My knee throbs. My ribs ache with every breath, and there's a sharp pain along my cheekbone.
Then there's awareness.
I'm in a bed. A real bed, with a mattress and blankets that smell like pine and woodsmoke and something else, something musky and wild that I can't quite place.
And I'm not alone.
My eyes snap open.
