Page 63 of Salvaged Hearts

But it never seemed to be less startling to suddenly be deprived of such a critical sense, especially as pain slammed against my eyes, around my cheekbone, jaw, and teeth.

“I’ve got you. Wrap your arms around my neck.”

“What—” my question was cut off as he scooped me into his arms, moving gently for his usually abrupt nature. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of my wife.”

“Greyson.”

“Alice.”

“Put me down.” Even as I said it, I leaned into him, tightening my hold and soaking up his mouthwatering scent.

“I will.”

“On the floor.”

His low chuckle warmed my bones. “Nice try, Mrs. Hart.” Someone rushed past us, and I heard a foot hit the bedroom door a breath before he was gingerly placing me on a plush comforter. “Hang on, I’ve got you,” he repeated, and I felt him rearrange the linens as I soaked up the darkness, pain easingwhen the light of the hallway no longer assaulted me. But it would get worse before it got better. So, so much worse.

A moment later, half of Greyson’s face was in my view, and he was trailing warm fingers down my arm to cup my hand, bringing it up to place pills in my palm. “Here, water,” he urged, pressing a cold glass into my other hand.

As I tried to adjust past the flashing lights to see the cup, his hand guided the other up to my lips. I popped the pills in my mouth—three, if my thumb was correct—and knocked them back with the water.

Mission accomplished, I eased down onto the luxurious feeling mattress and melted into the safety of something solid beneath me and the surrounding darkness. Closing my eyes, I cursed the strobes but tried to remember the breathing techniques I’d learned over time.

“You get them a lot?” he asked softly, concern thick in his voice.

“Not so much anymore. Mostly when I’m stressed.”

“Those days Leighton called in sick for you?”

“I thought she talked to Paul,” I whispered, the sound of my own voice like nails on a chalkboard.

“There are very few things Paul doesn’t tell me.” He ran a soothing hand across my forehead, and I leaned into the touch. “Now, relax, baby. You’re safe.” I nodded against his skin, unwilling to admit my grief when his touch vanished. Something about pain this acute robbed me of my logic, leaving in its place the most intense terror of being abandoned.

Being trapped in a body that spontaneously renders you helpless is a special kind of hell.

Eyes closed, still trying to unclench my jaw, my ears strained at the rustle of fabric. Stiff fabric, by the sounds of it. There was a soft thud and muffled footsteps and then the mattress dippedbefore those warm fingers returned to draw a sigh of relief from my lips.

More soft footsteps proceeded a less graceful landing on the bed, and I smiled when Greyson said, “She’s alright, Cap.” There was the undeniable whine of his Shepard a beat before his heavy weight landed on my legs. My fingers found fur and then the cold wetness of his snout.

“You’re both ridiculous,” I giggled weakly. “Thank you.”

“Harts take care of their own,” Greyson supplied simply. The soft kiss against my forehead had to be imagined. But he was stroking soothing lines across my face. “You confirmed that today.”

“What?” I whimpered.

He huffed a soft laugh before saying, “You were a Hart in true form today. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something as sexy as you telling those reporters to get off our property.”

I nearly choked on my laugh, wincing as the pressure of it slammed into my forehead. “You’re hilarious.”

“I mean it. You’d think you grew up dispersing those assholes. You wielded our name like a blade.”

“Even a dog fights back when provoked.” Some distant part of my mind registered his use ofourname.

“Well,your fightwas sexy as fuck. I’m so sorry it cost you.” When his claim pushed me to argue, but the pain sent me wincing instead, he demanded, “Rest, Alice. Preston’s bringing up coffee any minute.” I nodded softly and let his reassuring touch lull me toward the promise of sleep.

Sleep buried the pain. Sleep was theonlysafe space. But his soft voice caressed my senses, keeping me on this side of consciousness because his next words hung heavy, like a confession. “This is agonizing, Alice.” Somehow, I believed him and could hear pain in that familiar timbre. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

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