The sound of his voice cut through everything—the smoke, the cold, the residual panic clawing at my chest. The familiarity of it soothed something deep inside me, something raw and shaking. It made me feel safe.
His face appeared over me, blocking out the smoke.
Roman.
He reached for me and lifted me out of the snow before I could say a word. His arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling me flush against his chest.
His bare chest.
My thoughts were thick and sluggish. My head was heavy, like it couldn’t quite stay upright on its own. Phantom made a small, offended squeak as he was pressed awkwardly between our bodies.
“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Roman demanded, pulling back enough to look me over.
He seemed panicked.
Roman was never panicked.
The sirens were louder now. Red lights flashed somewhere in my peripheral vision.
When I didn’t answer right away, his expression sharpened further with worry. I realized then that I was sitting on his lap in the snow. I hadn’t even noticed when he’d dropped down with me.
He reached for my hands.
The moment his large, warm fingers wrapped around mine, pain shot up my arms in a blinding rush.
I gasped and jerked away. Roman pulled back just as quickly, his brows slashing downward.
My hands.
Fire.
There’s a fire.
My head whipped around toward Hearthstone Security. Fire trucks were pulling in along the street in front, tires crunching over gravel and ice. I caught flashes of red and yellow as firefighters moved, uncoiling hoses and sending water arching toward the structure.
Someone said my name again, but it sounded muffled.
Rough fingertips touched my chin, gently but firmly guiding my face back toward him.
“Palmer, sweetheart, I need you to focus.”
The casual endearment pierced through the haze enough to make me blink. The world around me sharpened a little.
My hands throbbed. The sting pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I was cold and shivering, or maybe trembling from fear. I couldn’t tell the difference.
“Are you injured anywhere else besides your hands?” he asked, his voice lower but no less urgent.
He was holding my wrists, carefully this time, my palms facing upward. I caught a glimpse of the red, angry skin. The first signs of blisters were forming.
My heart clenched.
No.
I couldn’t ruin my hands.
Tears welled up, hot and overwhelming.
Roman forced my chin upward again, cutting off my view of the damage. All I could see was him. His eyes were dark and blazing, something fierce simmering in their depths. It wasn’t just worry…it was rage. A protectiveness I’d only ever glimpsed before, now burned bright and unrestrained.
