I’m watching Evander’s outrageous physiology now, moving in the shadows and firelight.He’s beautiful.He’s graceful.He’s sexy.
He saved my life.
I wonder how it would feel to get that kiss I’ve been dreaming of, his mouth capturing mine.
Or how it would feel to be beneath him as he makes love to me.While I brush my fingertips across the cut muscle of his shoulders and arms.The line of his cheek.The chiseled chest.
And stare into those deep violet eyes.While I throw my legs around his waist and beg him to take me.
Okay, Phoebe.This is a life or death situation.Get ahold of yourself.
At least now I’m sure I’m alive.And that a near-death experience isn’t enough to stop me from my Evander-related daydreaming.
Evander stands.Turns.Stops.
My head reflexively tilts backwards as I look up at his face.He hovers, intent and stern.Light flickers over the rugged planes of his face.
I remember how, when he was recovering from surgery, I would sometimes steal a few moments to simply watch him sleep.I would study his mouth, his chin, his neck.Once, I picked up his hand and held it in mine and reassured him that he would recover just fine.
He doesn’t remember any of that, of course.
“I had no idea you were such a badass, Phoebe Travis.”
I nod, ridiculously, my head still thrown back.I stare up at him.I must look like a complete derp.
Evander takes a step closer to me.I can feel the energy radiate from his body.
I’m not sure what’s about to happen.
CHAPTER 19
Evander
I gaze down at Phoebe’s upturned face in the firelight.She looks equal parts terrified and awestruck.Intimidated, even.While that’s understandable, it’s not optimal.
Of course it’s unnerving for her to be trapped in this killer blizzard with me.Phoebe is untouched, innocent.And she’s no doubt aware of my reputation, as overblown as it might be.So a lot of reassuring will have to happen.
I need her to believe in her abilities.Phoebe has to remain confident that she can survive.
Because this storm is a motherfucker.Whiteout conditions persist, along with brutal winds.There’s well over three feet of heavy, wet snow on the ground, with snowdrifts over my head.
It’s so cold out there that my top-of-the-line tactical watch—with all its gauges and gadgets—has stopped working, turning it into a useless chunk of minerals, glass, and plastic.I took it off my wrist.
When I was up on the roof, removing snow while anchored by a makeshift tether, I got a full appreciation for this storm system.It’s a vicious, wild predator that will take advantage of the slightest hesitation, the first weakness it sees.
Human or structural.
It tried its best to take me out while I was on the roof.And I’m not convinced that this rattrap of a cabin will hold under its ongoing assault.
I need to work on a contingency plan.
I offer Phoebe a smile that I hope comes off as reassuring.
Badass—that’s what I just called her.And I meant it.Her resilience has surprised me.
I know this is good ole Phoebe Travis—the cheerful, sweet, good-girl-next-door, the girl I’ve known all my life.But in many ways, it feels like I’m meeting her for the first time.
This is brave Phoebe, the woman who fought to stay alive when many others would have succumbed to the icy water.
