Page 4

Skinnier, shorter than him—check.

Broken wrist, badly bruised, barely able to stand now the adrenaline was wearing off—check.

Hungry—check.

Thirsty—check.

Trapped in a corner—triple check.

What would happen if she slipped her fingers over that rough-skinned palm? Would he grab her, yank her out? Drag her off and rape her the way her father warned her men outside the community did?

Not that the meninthe community were any better, she told herself.

“Little owl, you keep slidin’ down the wall there, I’m gonna have trouble getting you out. No one’s gonna hurt you here.” He wiggled his fingers. “Put your hand right in mine. That’s all you need to do.”

The warmth was beginning to addle her brain. It was finally starting to burrow under her frozen skin, sinking into her battered muscles until her body became a giant ache. Along with the discomfort, a horrible kind of fatigue nagged at her.

If she passed out, he was going to haul her out anyway, wasn’t he? What harm could she do by taking that step voluntarily? The end result was the same.

Warily, Tamsyn extended her right hand, surprised by the unsteadiness. It was practically dancing on the end of her arm, jittering away with nerves and hunger and whatever else. She set it lightly in his, snatching it away when his weight shifted.

“Close but no cigar, darlin’. Nice and easy,” he coaxed.

Exhaling slowly, she tried again, allowing him to gently curl his fingers around hers until he had a firm grip on her. Instead of yanking her toward him, he drew her out carefully, tugging lightly on her hand until she wobbled stiffly from her hiding place.

Merrick led her from the storage cupboard into the hallway, grabbing his phone, then closing and shutting the door so she couldn’t bolt back in. His gaze roamed over her a second time. “Got ice in your bones, and some pretty nasty wounds. That wrist sprained or broken?”

Tamsyn used her body to shield the injured appendage from him. It was twice the size it should be now, the skin hot and stretched too tight, her pulse echoing where the bone was snapped in two.

“No good hiding, little owl. You need help, you’re gonna get it.” Merrick lifted the phone between them. “Grit, I’m taking our visitor upstairs to wait for Linnie.”

“Is she okay?”

“My guess is she’s been better.” He reached out and pinched the back of her hand. “Dehydrated, obviously hasn’t eaten in a while. Banged up, bruised, and broken. Skittish,” he added, his lips twitching when she took a step back. “Concussion, maybe—her eyes are a little unfocused, and she’s cold enough she doesn’t know she’s shaking.”

Well, that was a lie.

Merrick’s eyebrow rose; his hand released hers, lifting to cup her cheek. She thought his grip was warm when it encased her colder one, but the feel of that wide palm covering her cheek was like a brand, heat searing into her skin. “She’ll need some fresh clothes when Linnie’s done with her. What she’s wearing is as ripped up as she is.”

“Leave that to me. What size?”

“Just send a robe over for now. She’s on the small side.” Reclaiming her hand, he urged her to take a couple steps toward the stairs. “Thanks.”

The lights shimmered and splintered into a thousand pieces for several long seconds. She shook her head to clear it, but that only made the illusion worse. Taking another small step on suddenly heavy legs, she swayed, forcing her knees not to buckle.

Merrick cursed and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Here, darlin’, let’s get you upstairs before you collapse on me.” An arm hooked her around the backs of her knees, another across her shoulders. She was caught up in powerful arms, curled gently against a broad chest. “It’s okay if you need to pass out.”

Oh, she was floating. It took too much effort to hold her head up, so she rested her cheek against his shoulder. Everything hurt. As she slowly warmed up, so did the pain.

Merrick held her gently but firmly, climbing the stairs as though she weighed nothing. Each step jostled her, irritating her injuries. “Christ, you’re like a block of ice.”

Right down to the heart of her, she agreed silently. It felt like she’d never be warm at the core again; the bitter wind had driven winter into her bones. Running away in the middle of January probably wasn’t her smartest life decision, but given the alternative…

Dying in the mountains was preferable to—

“Merrick!”

He turned at the top of the stairs, sending the world spinning around her. Once it started, she didn’t think it was going to stop. Fisting her good hand in the soft material of his shirt, she anchored herself before the momentum picked her up and flung her into oblivion. “Violet, thanks for coming.”