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I jolted and gasped, my eyes shooting open.

“Dove?” Warrick said, voice so low I felt it.

My face was wet, and I was shivering.

“Your skin’s like fucking ice,” he said.

My throat hurt and a sob escaped before I could stop it.

Warrick wrapped his arms around me, rubbing those hot, rough-skinned hands over my skin, and I couldn’t bring myself to push him away. I needed it. I needed to be held so badly.

The cold slowly washed away, my body drawing warmth from Warrick, letting it soak through me.

“I’m okay,” I said, because the last thing I wanted to be in front of this male was weak or vulnerable.

“You were screaming, Willow, crying. You are not fucking okay. Why are you so cold? Why can’t I get you warm?” His voice was gruff, and yes, definitely filled with concern.

“It was just a…a bad dream, that’s all. And I’m starting to warm now.” But it wasn’t just a dream, was it? I squeezed my eyes closed. It felt too real. Ren turning from me…the contorted looks on my sisters’ faces. They were dead. Oh goddess, they’d all been dead. They filled my mind again, and I snapped my eyes open.

Warrick didn’t question me, but I got the feeling he wasn’t buying my bullshit. I was too shaken to try to convince him otherwise, though, the lies wouldn’t come.

We lay there in silence for a while, and as I slowly calmed, as the dream drifted away along with the ice under my skin and in my veins, I became more and more aware of the male surrounding me.

The way he’d held me, so…tenderly. He’d wrapped me securely in his strong arms, offering me support, and it felt more than just physical. One arm was across my middle, the other banded across my chest. One of his thighs was between mine, his front pressed to my back, his groin against my butt, and his bearded chin was on my shoulder.

It should feel restricting.

It didn’t.

He was warming me.

Comforting me as if he thought he could make it better if he could just get close enough.

And I liked it…way too much.

“You must think I’m pathetic.” I swallowed several times. “Weak.”

He made a rumbling sound. “Seen you hack off a demon’s head, dove. Several times.”

“You’ve also seen me cry,” I added.

“Also seen your dress torn, covered in my blood, crouched in front of me ready to take on an entire forest of creatures to protect me.”

There was a smile in his voice. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

The hand on my chest slid up, and he pressed a finger to my lips like he had the night before. His mouth came to my ear. “Enough,” he said roughly.

I didn’t try to pull away this time, no. A shiver slid through me at the dominant tone of his voice.

“No one has ever put themselves between me and danger, dove. Not ever. I’m alpha, that’s my job. But you did that.” His lips moved against my ear, and he breathed deep. “So no, not fucking weak, sure as fuck not pathetic.”

“Warrick…”

“You’re the strongest female I know, Willow.”

His finger traced my lower lip, and before I could stop it, my tongue darted out to taste his salty skin, needing it, craving it.

He stilled, his sharp indrawn breath loud in the quiet room.