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Rowen

Lifting Sierra from the cold tile floor felt like cradling a live ember in my arms. Her skin scorched against mine, droplets of water still running in rivulets down her naked body as I carried her from the bathroom. Her silver hair hung in wet ropes, dripping onto my already soaked shirt, but I couldn't care less about the state of my clothing. All that mattered was the precious, trembling woman in my arms.

"I've got you," I repeated, my voice rougher than I intended as I moved through our chambers.

She weighed almost nothing, supernaturally light despite the curves that filled my hands. I'd carried weapons that felt heavier, yet none had ever been as dangerous to me as this small creature. The way she clung to me, her face buried against my neck, her breath coming in small, heated pants against my skin. It tested every ounce of control I possessed.

"Cold," she murmured, despite the fever raging beneath her skin. "I'm cold."

Our bedroom was dimly lit, the artificial twilight of my realm casting long shadows across the floor. I moved toward the nest she'd meticulously constructed over the past few days, a fortress of blankets and pillows arranged according to some instinctualpattern only she understood. It dominated our massive bed, a perfect sanctuary designed specifically for what was coming.

As gently as I could manage, I laid her in the center of her creation. She whimpered at the loss of contact, her hands reaching for me as I pulled away.

"Don't leave," she whispered, those silver eyes wide with fear. "Please, Rowen."

"I'm just getting you a towel," I assured her, my hand lingering on her cheek. "I'll be right back."

I returned moments later with one of the plush black towels from our bathroom. She hadn't moved, still curled on her side exactly as I'd left her, her body trembling slightly. The sight of her, naked, vulnerable, her silver hair spread dark with moisture across the pillows, made something in my chest constrict painfully.

Sitting beside her, I began to gently dry her hair, moving the towel in careful circles against her scalp. She leaned into my touch like a cat seeking affection, her eyes drifting closed with what looked like relief.

"Better?" I asked, my voice dropping to that register I reserved only for her.

She nodded, a small smile touching her lips. "You're so gentle sometimes," she murmured. "No one would believe me if I told them."

A low chuckle rumbled through my chest. "Let's keep it that way. I have a reputation to maintain."

Working my way down her body, I dried her shoulders, her arms, the elegant line of her spine. Every inch of skin revealed as the water dried away seemed to glow with an inner light, the celestial blood in her veins making itself known as her true heat approached. She was transcendent, caught between worlds, not quite angel, not quite witch, not quite human. Something unique and precious beyond measure.

When had this happened? When had this small, defiant creature carved a Sierra-shaped hole in the darkness where my heart should be?

I remembered our first meeting with perfect clarity. Her standing in that ramshackle shop in Colorado, silver hair cascading down her back, those unusual eyes widening as she recognized what I was. Most humans cowered before me. Most supernatural beings knelt. Sierra had looked me dead in the eye and told me to get out of her store unless I was buying something.

She was just thirteen years old at the time.

I'd been captivated immediately.

Then came the years of watching from afar, ensuring her safety while keeping my distance, knowing that my presence would only accelerate the awakening of her powers, and would bring her heat crashing down before she was ready. Her body was much too young for that.

The agony of seeing her cry, believing I'd abandoned her, used her and discarded her...it had nearly broken me. But it was necessary, or so I'd told myself. Better she hated me than suffer the consequences of a premature heat with no proper mates to see her through it.

And now here we were. The moment I'd both dreaded and anticipated for years was upon us. Her true primal heat, amplified by the angel blood flowing in her veins, would likely push all of us to our limits. I thought we were out of the woods after her first heat, but the fates decided that we needed to be tested yet again.

"What are you thinking about?" Sierra's soft voice drew me from my memories. Her eyes were open again, watching me with something like wonder as I continued to dry her legs, her feet.

"The first time we met," I admitted, allowing a rare smile to touch my lips. "You threatened to hex me with public flatulence if I didn't buy something or leave."

Her laugh, weak but genuine, was music to my ears. "You deserved it. You were being an arrogant ass."

"I'm always an arrogant ass," I countered, tossing the damp towel aside. "It's part of my charm."

"Is that what you call it?"

I stretched out beside her, gathering her still-warm body against mine. She came willingly, curling into me, her head finding that perfect spot on my chest where she seemed to fit like she was designed to rest there. My hand stroked up and down her bare back, feeling the softness of her skin, the delicate ridge of her spine.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked, pressing my lips to the top of her head.

She nodded against my chest. "For now," she murmured, her voice already growing heavy with exhaustion. The heat was draining her energy, her body preparing for the onslaught that would soon consume her completely. "Just...don't let go."