Page 37 of Sight of Fate

“Charli, sweetheart. It’s Teague. It’s me. You’re safe,” he says, pulling me into his arms. His chest heaves as he holds me tightly. “Andros is contained. Macklin’s got him. He can’t hurt you.” His voice is raw and real, not in my head.

Shuddering, I bury my face into his neck and breathe him in. “Promise?”

His arms tighten around me. “Promise.”

“I called for you.”

“I know. I heard you, sweetheart. I came as quickly as I could.” He gently sweeps the hair back from my forehead and curses. “We need to get you to a healer.”

Shifting my body, he stands, lifting me with him. “Unfortunately, they’re all out at the farm for hatchling season.”

“Hatchling?” I ask with a groan as my body protests every step we descend.

He hesitates. “Dragons are called hatchlings when they’re born.”

Immediately, I begin shaking my aching head. Vampires. Lions. Dragons. It’s too much. “No dragonsss. Doctor.” I frown when I hear myself slur. Why does it feel like I’m drunk? “Sleepy.”

Teague lifts my chin. “Damn it. Don’t go to sleep, Charli!”

“M’kay,” I tell him, opening my eyes. I stare at his slick skin. Am I hallucinating? Reaching out, I slide my hand across his bare chest. Hard muscle flexes under my palm. “Are you naked?”

He grunts. “I’m wearing shorts.”

Stairs blur as we race by. My brow furrows. “It’s winter.”

“The cold doesn’t bother me,” he says with a shrug. My head lolls back, and he stops. “Charli! Talk to me, sweetheart.”

I force my eyes open. “I like that.”

He races down the last steps and out onto the sidewalk. “What do you like?”

“Sweetheart,” I admit with a heavy sigh. “I’ve never had a guy call me something sweet.” Frigid winter air slices through my sweater, and I shiver. “Cold.”

He spins in a circle. “David, give me your coat.”

Heavy wool drapes over me until I’m covered. Burrowing into it, I smile. “Thank you…sweetheart.” I frown. “Nope.” Doesn’t fit him. I stare up at the handsome, dynamic man who’s staring down at me with a fierce scowl on his face. “Mad?”

Lines smooth, and there’s a rush of warmth in my chest. “Not at you.”

Darkness closes in on me until the only thing I see is his face.

“Open your eyes, Charli!” he orders, his tone urgent.

I smile, but my lids are too heavy.

“I’ve got you, Charli. Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He takes a deep breath.

A deep whooshing sound surrounds us. His arms become a steel cage, wrapped tightly around me as freezing air whips my hair. I turn my face into his warm chest and slip into the cool darkness.

A blunt finger slides over my face, tracing every feature.

Teague.

I’m here.

“Can you open your eyes?” His low voice is like a warm caress, tempting me, but I press my face into his hard chest. “That’s okay. Sleep a little longer.”

I snuggle into him, automatically inhaling the cologne he favors. I like this dream. Feels real. Until his hand skims down my back. That’s odd. I never let anyone touch me there, not even in my daydreams. The tips of his fingers slide across my lower back. Skin against skin.