Winter Rose by Rachel A. Marks

Author:Rachel A. Marks [Marks, Rachel A.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Shadow Of The Wood
Published: 2011-11-21T05:00:00+00:00

PART FOUR

I awake, emerging from sleep slowly. I didn’t have a nightmare. There was no blood in the night. Is this what peace is like?

And then I feel him, arms surrounding me, strong and unyielding. His breath fans my cheek. His steady pulse moves against my palm.

I stiffen and look up at his sleeping face, my own heartbeat quickening at his closeness.

He smells like pines and earth, and some distant scent all his own.

My fear turns me to stone.

Fear he might touch me. Fear that he won’t.

His eyes open and he greets me with a smile. “You’re awake,” he whispers. “You okay?” He rubs my shoulder gently, one human comforting another, but to me his hands are made of fire.

He must notice I’m trembling. His smile fades, and he says, “I’d never hurt you, Little One.”

I look away, shame filling me as dark memories cloud my head again. “I’m not a child,” I say. Like a confession of my sin.

“I know.” He puts his finger under my chin and lifts my eyes to his. “I know what happened to you, Rose.”

My mouth opens to say something, to deny it all, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t do that, Rose. Rebecca told me about Hunt ‘cause she was worried about you.”

Just the sound of someone else saying that man’s name aloud makes my whole body shiver. The pain creeps back inside me, the sweet warmth of Luke’s arms fading as the ice fills my heart again.

I look over to Becca, her small body curled on her pallet, her dark shadowed eyes closed in a fitful sleep. She whimpers and clutches at her blanket and my chest tightens. I start to rise, to go to her, to tell Luke he should comfort her and not me—

But he takes my face in his hands, his fingers catching in my hair. “Never think you deserved that, Rose. You did the right thing.” His eyes turn hard with anger and pain. “The bastard deserved to die. He deserved worse.”

I look at him in shock and amazement. He’s in pain. For me.

Then the strangest thing happens, even stranger than my peace—I reach out to him and bury my face in his chest.

He isn’t afraid of me. He knows and he isn’t afraid.

I didn’t even realize it mattered, but the relief that fills me is a rise of my soul, tingling in my fingers and toes.

He strokes my hair and I don’t pull away. I let him comfort me. I let him give me something I’ve never had from a man’s hands, and lie in wonder at the feeling of the warmth that fills me again. Just for a moment.

Daylight’s coming and Becca will be awake soon.

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