Paxton had the fire crackling powerfully before he turned and unstacked the cots. He winced as his ankle popped back into place. He’d broken it twice over the last couple days, and then the avalanche had cracked it a third time. His healing cells were back to full force, though, and for that, he was grateful. Taking Vero’s blood—his brother’s blood—had definitely sped up the healing process. “Did you find blankets?” he asked, his senses tuned to the outside and any possible threats.
“Yes.” Hope brought a stack of thick comforters from the nearest storage bin. “These look homemade, hand quilted.” She frowned, looking fragile. “It’s an odd thing to leave here.”
He shrugged, his heart pounding. For her. “Let’s get you out of that dress.” It was wet and bloody, and she was shivering so hard, her lips were turning blue.
“Gladly.” She turned around. “You have to untie this thing.” The corset was intricate, and it was tied well, so in the end, he had to just rip the edges apart. When he released her, she sighed. “Oh, thank goodness. That was unbearable.”
He finished tearing the delicate material open, and diamonds scattered across the cabin floor; they were probably worth a small fortune. The need he felt to protect her was overwhelming. She was everything. He couldn’t believe that she’d chosen him. “What were you thinking?” he asked.
She turned, holding the material over her breasts with both arms. “What do you mean?”
“You knew he was going to kill you if you chose me.” Though he hadn’t wanted her to sacrifice herself, he’d figured she’d say yes and then think of a way out. “I thought you’d acquiesce to gain yourself more time.” He’d never forget, for as long as he lived, the second she’d chosen him. His blood heated until ancient drums echoed in his skull.
“I considered doing so,” she said, her eyes soft, her gaze flicking away as pink filtered across her cheekbones. “But you remember when we were little, and you told me once that you’d had a really good day made up of a lot of perfect moments?”
He remembered exactly. He’d spent the entire day with her family, and her mother had fed him macaroni and cheese. And they’d baked cookies. Then he played his guitar while Hope had played the piano. It wasn’t her favorite thing to do, but she’d done it because it was what he’d wanted, and it had been one of the best days of his life. They’d been maybe eight or nine years old. “I remember,” he said.
The firelight made her hair glow and her eyes glimmer like sapphires, the real kind that were darker than those man-made. “I took that to heart. Life is full of moments. In that second when I had to choose, when I had to say it out loud, there was only one thing to say, and it was your name.” She shrugged, looking so beautiful his heart hurt. “I can’t explain it, Paxton. Even if it meant death, I chose you.”
Nobody in his entire life had truly chosen him. She flayed him right open. He should do the right thing and get her to safety, away from him. His life had just imploded. As a half Kurjan, he wouldn’t be trusted anywhere. Where would he even live?
But he couldn’t let her go. She’d shown unbelievable courage in taking her stance, and he had to do the same, regardless of the future.
Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood was his future.
She kicked a foot against the sparkly dress. “Ice is forming on this thing.”
“Turn around,” he said gruffly. She did so, and he released the band around her waist. They had to get her out of the sopping wet dress so she could warm up. “You’ve been mine for about five hours, and I’m not taking very good care of you.”
She stepped gracefully out and kicked the material, along with cute pink panties, to the side.
He tried to look above her shoulder, but her ass was perfect, curvy and full. His hands itched to touch. A scaly looking black book came unstuck from her thigh and fell to the floor with a loud thud. She reached for it and tossed it onto a spare cot. “It’s the other half of the dragon-scale book.”
He grinned, amusement taking him despite the danger facing them. The raw desire coursing through him wasn’t going anywhere. Hundreds of years from now, even if he were half-dead, he’d still want her with the same intensity. “You hid half of an ancient book in your panties?”
She dropped the bodice and reached for a blanket to wrap around herself before turning to face him. “Yes. Drake didn’t want me to have it, so I stole it.” She met his gaze directly. “The book can wait. For now, I don’t need the archaic ‘mine’ language.” Her chin was up and her eyes a deep blue, while her wet auburn hair was beginning to curl around her bare shoulders. The woman looked like a sprite trying to be a warrior. A beautiful one.
“That’s unfortunate.” He cupped the side of her face and leaned in to kiss her before rubbing his thumb along her full bottom lip. She tasted like oranges and vanilla beans. It was a miracle. His miracle. He didn’t deserve her, but he was keeping her. Forever. “You chose me. It’s done.” Then he took her mouth the way he wanted, full and deep, for the first time not holding anything back.
She moved into him with a soft sigh, her mouth so soft beneath his. The woman had stolen his heart eons ago with a simple kiss, and it beat just for her. Hard and fast right now.
He slid his arm inside the blanket and flattened his palm across her entire lower back. Her skin was so soft it almost drove him to his knees. Pulling her even closer to his body, he bent her back, taking and pouring as much of himself into her as he could. He caressed her waist and didn’t miss the little tremor that ran through her.
Her skin was so soft, he closed his eyes and just let himself feel her for a brief moment. He’d always been gentle with her because he knew the second she gave him the go-ahead, he would take full advantage. The decision had to have been hers, but she’d made it.
Whether she understood that completely or not was a moot point now.
He deepened the kiss, flexing his fingers and showing a hint of aggression. She gasped in need and pressed her body against him. Yeah. She was exactly perfect for him.
Blood roared in his ears, and then he calmed, needing her more than he would’ve ever imagined. He clasped one hand in her hair and pulled her head back, his gaze on hers. Her eyes were soft and sleepy with desire. “Tell me you want this,” he ordered. He had to be sure.
She needed to be sure.
She blinked. Wariness filtered into her eyes, a soft hue of vulnerability that was all Hope. “I do want this.” Her voice trembled. “Whatever happens next, it isn’t going to be easy. For either of us or our people.”
“I’ve never wanted easy,” he murmured. “I’ve only wanted you.”
Her eyes flared and softened. “Pax.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised.