The male standing twenty feet away, staring at me with an unreadable expression, was someone I'd never expected to see again. Someone I'd convinced myself was a figment of my imagination, a fever dream born from trauma and desperation.
He looked like something out of a fantasy. The kind of dangerous, beautiful creature that shouldn't exist in the real world. His thick dark blonde hair caught the light, streaked with gold and bronze that made me think of a lion's mane. It tumbled past his collar in thick, lustrous waves that looked impossibly soft. The kind of hair you wanted to run your fingers through just to see if it was real. His face was all strong angles—broad nose, sharp cheekbones, defined jaw covered in dark stubble that only made him more devastating. Full lips that I remembered the shape of, even after all these years. Lips thathad whispered reassurances in the darkness and brought me to ecstasy.
But it was his build that made my mouth go dry. Broad shoulders straining against his simple black t-shirt, arms corded with muscle visible even from this distance. He stood tall and commanding, his presence filling the space around him like a gravitational force that drew every eye in the market, whether they realized it or not.
And yet, there was something in the way he held himself—a tension, a hesitation that seemed at odds with all that raw power. His hands hung at his sides, but his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for something. For me.
And those eyes. Golden-honey brown eyes that burned into mine with an intensity that stole the breath from my lungs. Eyes I'd seen in my dreams almost nightly, haunting me with their mixture of strength and gentleness.
The world tilted. Images flooded my mind in a dizzying rush. Rough stone walls slick with moisture, the acrid smell of smoke and blood, strong arms lifting me like I weighed nothing. His voice, low and urgent, rumbling through his chest and into mine. The feeling of absolute safety in the midst of unspeakable terror.
The night Teddy was conceived.
My vision blurred at the edges. I heard someone call my name, but it sounded far away, muffled, like I was underwater. My knees buckled.
The last thing I saw before darkness took me was him moving toward me, those honey-brown eyes wide with concern.
I awoke to the familiar floral pattern of Mei's sofa cushions pressed against my cheek. My head throbbed, and for a blissful moment, I thought maybe I'd dreamed the whole thing.
Then I heard Doc Pritchett's voice with his distinctive Australian accent. "There she is. Easy now, Ruby. You gave us quite a scare."
I blinked, trying to focus. Doc's face swam into view, his bushy eyebrows drawn together in concern. Behind him, Craig hovered anxiously, his dark blonde hair rumpled like he'd been running his hands through it. Mei knelt beside the sofa, her delicate features tight with worry.
"What happened?" I croaked, though I knew exactly what happened.
"You fainted," Mei said softly, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. Her touch was gentle, soothing, but nothing could slow the racing of my heart.
"Blood pressure's fine," Doc said, snapping his medical bag shut. "Probably just the heat and not eating enough. You taking care of yourself, Ruby?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Outside, I could hear voices on Mei's front porch. Clemon Peters' nasal whine carried through the screen door, complaining about something or other.
And then—that voice.
Deep. Rich. Like aged whiskey and dark chocolate, smooth and intoxicating, with an accent I couldn't quite place, something exotic that made every word sound deliberate and important, like he was reciting poetry. It rolled over my skin like warm syrup, raising goosebumps along my arms.
"I merely wished to ensure she was well. I did not mean to cause distress."
Him.
My heart hammered against my ribs. He was right outside, just beyond that door, separated from me by nothing but a thin screen and the weight of five years.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, sitting up too fast. The room spun, and Mei's hands steadied me. "Really, I'm fine. I just need some water."
Craig moved immediately, disappearing into Mei's kitchen.
"Ruby," Mei said quietly, her dark eyes searching mine with that uncanny ability she had to see straight through me. "What's going on?"
I couldn't answer. Couldn't form the words. Because that voice outside was speaking again, and my entire body remembered it. Remembered the way it had sounded in the darkness, urgent and protective, telling me to hold on, that I was safe. The way it had wrapped around me like a shield, promising me that everything would be okay.
The voice that had whispered to me during the worst moment of my life—and given me the most precious gift I'd ever received.
"Everyone out." The words burst from my lips before I could stop them. My hands were shaking. "I need everyone out. Please."
Craig reappeared with the water, concern etched across his kind face. "Ruby, what—"
"Out!" My voice cracked, too loud, too sharp, bordering on hysterical. "I'm sorry, I just—Mei, please. Everyone but Mei."
Doc straightened, exchanging a sideways glance with Craig.
