Cyprian's boots hit the reinforced concrete with a heavy, resonant thud that reverberates through the entire platform. His wings snap closed around me, shielding me from the worst of the rain as he sets me down with careful, deliberate gentleness.
My legs don't work.
That's the first thing I notice.
My knees buckle the second my heels touch solid ground, adrenaline crash hitting like a freight train. Cyprian catches me before I can face-plant onto expensive Italian tile, his hands closing around my waist with that perfect combination of strength and absolute control.
"I have you," he says.
"Yeah. I noticed."
My voice comes out shaky.
Breathless.
Completely unhinged.
Because I just committed high-profile corporate espionage in a four-thousand-dollar evening gown, dropped a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound bio-engineered super-soldier with a single elbow strike, and survived a three-story freefall through a shattered glass wall.
I'm shivering.
Not from fear.
From cold.
The rain has soaked completely through the obsidian silk, turning the custom gown into a freezing, clinging second skin. My hair is plastered to my face. The diamond choker feels like it weighs ten pounds. My heels are somehow still intact, which feels like a minor miracle considering everything else that just happened.
Cyprian's skin radiates heat.
Not normal heat.
Volcanic, protective, absolutely sweltering heat that cuts through the freezing rain like a furnace. His chest is pressed against my back, his frame curled around me, and the temperature difference is stark—my body is ice-cold and trembling, and he's a living space heater wrapped in slate-gray skin and leather wings.
"You are freezing," he says.
"Yeah. Jumping through windows in the rain will do that."
"I should not have—"
"Don't."
I twist in his grip, turning to face him.
His amber veins are glowing soft gold, but there's tension in his jaw. Guilt in his eyes.
"Don't apologize for saving our asses," I say. "That was the most insane, terrifying, absolutely badass thing I've ever experienced, and I'm not going to let you feel guilty about it."
His chest rumbles.
Not a laugh.
A purr.
"You are shivering."
"I'm aware."
"I will not allow you to remain cold."
