Page 28 of Axel Martin

I set the cup down and reached for his hand, tugging him closer. “Come sit.”

He hesitated, like maybe he was afraid to touch me. Then he sat beside me—slowly, carefully. His arm brushed mine, and it felt like a jolt straight to my chest.

“You’ve been quiet since the hospital,” I said.

“You’ve been hurt.”

“I’ve also been awake. Mostly. And very bored.”

That earned a smile. “You’re the worst patient.”

“You love it.”

He didn’t answer, but he leaned in, brushing his thumb lightly over the bandage on my temple. His touch was feather-soft, reverent.

“You scare me,” he murmured.

“Because I chase tornadoes?”

“Because you own me. And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”

I leaned in. “You hold on tight.”

His lips hovered near mine, breath warm. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then kiss me slow.”

And he did.

God, he did.

There was nothing rushed in the way his mouth met mine—just heat and patience and the kind of hunger that came with weeks of missed chances. His fingers curled gently into my hair, the other hand anchoring at my waist, pulling me closer inch by inch.

I moved with him, careful but greedy, hands sliding beneath his shirt just to feel skin and strength. When we finally parted,breathless and tangled, I rested my forehead against his and whispered, “Okay. That was worth surviving for.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Good. Because I’m not finished with you.”

26

Lark

I’d just managed to change into real clothes—yoga pants and one of Axel’s T-shirts that hung halfway to my knees—when a knock rattled the cabin door like someone was trying to break in with personality alone.

“Who the hell…?” I muttered, wincing as I limped toward the door.

I opened it to find a petite woman in a leather jacket, curly auburn hair escaping from a half-hearted bun, and a carry-on suitcase that looked like it had been through three natural disasters.

“Wow,” she said, blinking at me. “You look like a raccoon that lost a bar fight.”

“Hi, Marley.”

“Hi, hurricane.” She shoved past me and dropped her bag with a dramatic sigh. “So, are you dying or just being overly dramatic again?”

“I got hit in the head by a gas station roof during a tornado.”

Marley snorted. “Classic you.”

She glanced around Axel’s cabin, her eyebrows lifting. “Okay, whatisthis place? Some kind of wilderness man-cave? There are knives on the wall. Are you dating a serial killer?”

---