Forged in Smoke by Trish McCallan

Author:Trish McCallan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781503945494
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2016-07-18T18:30:00+00:00

Faith awoke slowly, vaguely aware of a strong, rhythmic throb against her ear. Heat cocooned her, rocked her in a firm embrace. She sighed, a low hum of satisfaction, and snuggled closer to the warmth toasting her right side from cheek to hip.

The rocking stopped.

“Faith? Open your eyes for me, sugar.”

The entreaty in the deep, Southern-spiced voice forced Faith’s eyes open. Not that she could see much through the shadows surrounding her. But what she did see was confusing—like a band of arms encircling her and a broad chest against her cheek.

“You awake, baby?”

She would have thought she was dreaming, except for the tension in the smooth, rich voice rumbling against her ear. She recognized that voice. Responded to it.

“Rawls?” She started to stretch, but the bands of steel encircling her constricted, holding her in place.

“How you feelin’, baby?” The normally smooth voice was rough, raspy.

She frowned slightly, unease jiggling. Why did he sound so raw? But the disquiet was impossible to maintain when she felt so wonderful—warm, cozy, cared for.

“I feel great.” She sighed again, nuzzling her cheek into his chest. And it was true. She did feel great. Better than she could ever remember feeling. Which begged the question. “Why are you carrying me?”

There was a noticeable lift and fall to his chest, as though he’d taken a deep breath, followed by an even bigger exhale. And then the rocking started again.

“Do you remember what happened?”

She thought back, images unfurling in her mind.

Explosions overhead. The ceiling cracking and tumbling down. Dirt and concrete plunging through the gaping holes. Fleeing. Agony in her arm and chest. The inability to breathe.

Her heart must have acted up. Hardly surprising considering they’d faced the very real possibility of being buried alive. She glanced up, relieved to find the concrete above her head intact. Rawls must have hauled her to safety. At least they didn’t have to fend off that particular danger at the moment. The first time had obviously put enough stress on her heart to trigger the tachycardia. Thank God she’d saved that last dose of Cordarone.

“Thank you,” she mumbled on a deep contented breath. The earlier crisis so dim and dreamlike, it didn’t have the power to pierce her current serenity.

“For what?”

His voice sounded closer, and she could swear something was nuzzling the top of her head.

“For getting the Cordarone into me. I would have died without it.” An unwelcome realization scratched at the contentment. She must have been totally out of it, because she didn’t remember taking that pill.

“Yeah . . . ” That odd rasp was back in his voice. “I couldn’t get to the pill. I didn’t save you. Kait did.”

“Kait?” She raised her head, trying to make out his face in the shadows surrounding them. Where were the flashlights? But then the renewed tension in his arms and the rawness to his voice distracted her. There was more to the story than he was telling her.

“She healed you.” Thickness ironed out his drawl.

“Healed? Why did I need healing?” She tried to remember.

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