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I turn to sprint, to flee, but I’m ended by a freaking ceramic toad.

I stub my toe hard enough to see the deities.

When the Brauns chased me, I didn’t scream. When they carried me away, I didn’t cry.

But one stupid landscape ornament and my pathetic whimper-shriek silences the fight.

The roars and punches cut so completely, a confused cricket starts to sing.

I hop, holding my possibly disintegrated toe.

Ballet flats were a stupid choice.

I’m going to the next social in running sneakers.

Shit.

I have to go to another one.

I’m not sure I can walk, let alone run. Orion swoops in before I can find out.

He scoops me into his arms.

I wish I could say I flinched.

That I hesitated for even one second, thinking he was a threat.

But my body knows him.

His scent wraps me, and crisp, cinnamony apple burns off the lingering alpha stink.

“I’ve got you,” he purrs.

So soft.

His voice. His hands. Even his freaking sweater.

I loop my hands around his neck and nuzzle the fabric so I can scrub away the feel of that alpha’s nasty stubble.

While I pant like I’m still on the run, Orion shields my eyes and carries me away. He cuts through the bushes, popping out next to a bench at the campus pond.

When he sets me down, my arms go rogue, refusing to let go. Then I realize what the hell I’m doing and bail, scrambling onto the seat.

“Ow.” I flinch. My ribs ache, my skin’s scraped and bruised, and blood seeps through the toe of my slipper.

Pretty sure it needs amputating.

“Where are you hurt?” Orion drops between my knees, and my heart seizes. Then he takes my foot and softly strokes my ankle. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” I say from the high altitude where his touch sends me. Need climbing poles, the air’s so thin.

He cups my calf, examining the scrapes on my knees with the same focus he gives a screen full of code.

The same dedication.

That’s what knocks me back to earth.

I kick free of his warm palms.

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