Page 19 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
“Fine.Fine,” she said to no one in particular. “What I’m doing, I don’t even know. I’m taking your photo and sending it to my mother.” Before he could growl or complain, she held up her comm unit and grabbed his photo. “Caught in storm. Sheltering with this guy. He probably won’t murder me,” she spoke aloud as she typed the message.
“I’m not going to…why would you think that?” He ran a hand through his hair again and tugged on an ear.
“Safety first and…sent. Now, you wanted me to follow a stranger to a secondary location? I hope there’s candy.” She batted her eyes sweetly, which earned her another ear tug. He was sort of cute for a cranky guy.
“My house is near. We need to go now before the path is washed out. Here.” He handed her the orb.
She stared at her hand, confused.
“It’s a shield.” He pressed the orb, and it unfurled into a thin, nearly transparent piece of fabric. “This is the hood. Fasten it here,” he said as he adjusted it on her shoulders. In that moment, when he was caretaking and not snarling, she felt the air spark with electricity.
Thunder crashed again. She jumped.
Right, those sparks were actual electricity and not attraction. She needed to get her head on straight. Lusting after the first guy she saw after Tomas was such a bad idea.
The muddy floor squished under her feet. She didn’t love the idea of running out in the downpour, but she didn’t want to stay in the hut any longer. Her foot slipped and her arms flapped as she fought against gravity, but it was no use. She closed her eyes, prepared to land on her back.
The man caught her before she hit the ground. His powerful arms wrapped around her waist, holding her above the muddy floor.
“Oh,” she breathed. Those sparks? Not her imagination.
“Ready?” he asked, helping her to her feet.
Flustered, she adjusted the raincoat—poncho?—on her shoulders. “I’m Mari. You got a name?”
“Winter.”
Winter
Merry. Human names were strange.
He led the female to the old farmhouse. Water covered the path, rushing over the ground as it traveled downhill. He had planned to return before the storm. The bright flashes of lightning in the relative darkness of the storm promised a headache. He only wore the protective contact lenses, but they were not enough to shield against the bright flare of a lightning strike.
The female stumbled on an unseen stone. Reaching out, he caught her elbow and steadied her. Her uneven gait suggested an injury, requiring her to be mindful of each step.
Frustrated at her slow pace, he dropped the malfunctioning bot to scoop up the female. Cradled in his arms, she wiggled and squirmed. “Put me down!”
“You are too slow,” he said, because that decided the matter.
It was almost pleasant to carry the female, to feel her softness and her heat. He could do without the flailing of her feet and her voice wailing like a high-pitched alarm. Fortunately, the storm drowned out her pointless howls.
The winds increased as they reached the building.
Once they were inside the entry, she said, “You left your bot.”
Odd how she managed to sound angry about the sacrifice he made to carry her. He appreciated how she was upset on his behalf; it showed compassion. She had a caring heart. His appreciation had nothing to do with the way the wet garment clung to her curves.
“Yes. I am displeased,” he said, tearing his eyes away.
He had wanted to capture as much data as possible before the storm. He issued a command for the bot to return to its dock, but it continued on, scanning and mapping as the rain increased, working mud into the treads and, no doubt, the inner circuitry. The machine should not have malfunctioned as it did from a little rain. He would have words with Chase.
“Sorry. You didn’t have to leave it behind to carry me.”
He wanted to say it was no great sacrifice to leave behind the malfunctioning machine. Most likely, it could not be repaired. Instead, what came out was a growled, “You were too slow.”
His ears twitched. Winter fought the urge to hold them still. The gravity of the situation struck him. He invited a strange female into his home. He knew nothing about her. She could be a spy from a rival company, or a journalist there to sniff out secrets. He didn’t know what was worse, but he found it difficult to think when she was so wet and almost pretty.
For a human.
