––––––––

Justin surfaced from a deep sleep, becoming slowly aware that he was warm and comfortable. He wasn’t used to feeling anything pleasant when he woke up after being invincible for that long. But when he reached within himself, as cautiously as if he was prodding a broken bone, he found neither the blank numbness of invincibility nor the physical misery and mental anguish that normally crashed over him when he emerged from that state. He felt dizzy and weak, but nothing worse than that.

Also, he was in a real bed, with a firm mattress beneath him, a pillow under his head, and soft blankets over him. That too was strange. He lay very still, keeping his eyes closed and his breathing exactly the same as before, feigning sleep. He might have been captured—

No, purred his snow leopard. 

That was also unfamiliar. His snow leopard hissed and growled, snarled and screamed. He didn’t purr. Justin hadn’t even known he could purr. Until...

With that, his memory returned in a flood. He recalled how Fiona had broken into his hideout, how they’d been attacked and escaped together, and then holed up at, of all places, the Ritz Carlton. He remembered his decision to let go of his invincibility, and how he’d braced himself for the return of gnawing hunger and crushing exhaustion, bitter guilt and bleak despair, a desperate need for sleep and nightmares that would make him wish he’d never sleep again.

And he remembered looking into Fiona’s eyes.

He’d seen them before, of course, but he’d been invincible then and so he’d perceived them without emotion. Just as he’d perceived her without emotion. Both times they’d met, he’d felt driven to protect her. He’d supposed that was due to the remnants of his sense of duty and desire to do the right thing. But it had been a bloodless compulsion, shorn of the blazing determination he’d felt in combat to save his buddies or die trying.

As for Fiona herself, he’d noted that she was tall for a woman and slim, moved like she’d been trained to fight, had blonde hair and green eyes, and was about his age.

When he was invincible, nothing was beautiful. Nor was anything ugly. Everything simply was, with no value attached to it. He could look at a rainbow arching over a green hill and a heap of rotting trash in a dark alley, and have no desire to see one rather than the other.

When he’d taken off his shield of ice and let his snow leopard back into his heart, he’d been deluged with feeling. Fiona wasn’t just a tall blonde woman, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She wasn’t just capable of moving quickly, she’d leaped like lightning to shield him with her own body.

And her eyes—he could have looked into her eyes forever. They were a bright clear green like rain-washed grass, like tiny leaves unfurling in spring, like beach glass held up to the sun. When he’d seen them, really seen them, he’d felt his heart start to open like a flower.

And in that instant of gazing into that incredible green, he’d somehow seen straight into Fiona’s soul. He’d sensed courage and intelligence, discipline and pride, kindness and loyalty and a smoldering passion hot enough to burn him to ash if it ever caught flame. He couldn’t imagine that he’d mind.

For a split second, he’d been overwhelmed with feelings he’d thought he’d never experience again. Hope. Joy. Desire.

Then his snow leopard had purred, She’s the one. She’s our mate.

The big cat’s words sent Justin crashing back to Earth. He couldn’t have a mate. Him, paired with this amazing woman? She should be free to fly to the highest of heights, not be chained down to a broken soldier. His life was a shambles. He’d done terrible things he could never atone for. His body was a ruin, his mind a battlefield.

And he was going to die.

No, his snow leopard had snarled. We will live for our mate!

I will not! Justin had shouted silently, stumbling backward as if his snow leopard had been a real beast crouched in front of him rather than a voice inside his mind. I can’t. I won’t.

You will! His snow leopard’s voice had risen in a terrified—and terrifying—scream. You must!

Do you still think I’m getting a happy ending? Justin had demanded with bitter sarcasm. Seashells and wedding bells and babies on the rug? What a joke! I’m going down in flames, and I won’t take her with me!

Justin frowned, trying to recall what had happened after that. He had a vague recollection of darkness closing in on him, as if he was peering into a shrinking tunnel. He must have passed out. And then Fiona must have laid him on the bed. She’d have to be strong to have wrestled him off the floor—but she must be a shifter too. He wondered what kind. Maybe a big cat, like him. She moved like a cat.

Yes, purred his snow leopard. We are two of a kind.

Justin knew what his inner predator was implying, but he ignored it rather than arguing. Fiona had said she needed protection, so he’d protect her. If that required laying down his life for her, he’d do it gladly. But he could never be her mate.

“Justin?” It was Fiona’s voice, clear as crystal and pitched soft. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, his mouth and throat dry. He coughed, then opened his eyes.

Fiona sat in a chair by the bed. She was so beautiful. His glimpse of her in the short time between when he’d been able to see beauty and when he’d passed out hadn’t been enough. He drank her in unashamedly, savoring every detail.

She had fine hair so blonde it was nearly white, braided and wrapped around her head like a crown. She’d put on a more casual outfit than the ninja-like clothes she’d worn before, black pants that showed off her long legs and a blue blouse that clung to her breasts and gave her eyes, her incredible eyes, the aquamarine shimmer of a tropical lagoon.

She examined him with concern. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” he said automatically.

Embarrassed to be lying there in bed while she sat over him, he tried to sit up. Before he was even fully upright, his vision grayed out and the room spun around him

Fiona put her hand on his chest, pushing him back down. “Are you trying to make me pick you off the floor again? Stay where you are. I’ll get you something to drink.”

He lay still, breathing deeply, willing his dizziness to subside. The room came back into focus, and he watched her open a well-stocked minibar.  

“Jack Daniels,” he called. “On the rocks.”

“First thing in the morning?” she called back. “No wonder you can’t sit up.”

“I was kidding.” In fact, he hadn’t had any alcohol in... years, he realized. Apex didn’t put minibars in their prisoners’ cells.

“I know.” Fiona pulled a small plastic bottle of orange juice from the back of the minibar and brought it to him. “I can hold it for—”

“No!” He wanted to protect her and be strong for her.  It was bad enough that he’d passed out and made her pick him up; he was hardly going to make her hold the bottle to his lips like he was an invalid.

Then, realizing that she’d made him a kind offer and he’d responded by shouting at her, he added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But I only got dizzy because I sat up too fast. I should be fine if I take it slow.”

“Okay.” She sounded doubtful.

She probably had reason. Justin still felt light-headed. “You can give me a hand, if you like.”

“Since you ask so nicely...” She leaned over and wedged her arm under his back.

The action brought her so close that her breasts almost touched his chest. He could feel her body heat, and smell a faint scent of flowery soap and an even fainter one beneath that, a warm and living aroma that had to be her own natural scent. Justin inhaled deeply, taking it in. It gave him a strange feeling, partly like he was dreaming and partly like he was more awake than he’d been in his entire life.

A rush of heat went through his body, making him very aware that he had one. When he was invincible, his physical self was nothing more than a tool, something he was aware of but couldn’t feel himself, like a gun in his hand. Now he was suddenly alive within his body, experiencing scent and touch... and desire.

He wanted Fiona. Wanted her with an intensity he hadn’t felt in... years, it must be. He wanted to strip off her clothes, cup her breasts in his hands and feel her nipples hardening against his palms, press her nakedness against his own—

Sit up first, purred his snow leopard, sounding distinctly amused.

Jolted back to reality, Justin hurriedly helped Fiona raise him, bracing the heels of his hands on the mattress and pushing himself up. Once he was leaning against the headboard, she removed her arm and slid a pillow behind his back.

“Thanks,” he said, wishing he could ask her to put her arm back.

“No problem. Here you go.” She uncapped the orange juice and held it out.

He reached out, but his hands were shaking. He’d spill it all over the bed if she gave it to him.

“Sorry,” he muttered again. “I really did a number on myself this time. If I was my patient, I’d tell me off. And then put in an IV drip. Don’t worry, though, orange juice is lower tech but just as good. I’ll be fine once I get my blood sugar back up.”

Fiona gave him a curious glance, then slid the bottle into his left hand. She cupped her own hands around his, holding it still.

“You remembered,” he said.

“Remembered...?”

“That I’m left-handed.” It touched him. She knew him, even in such a small way. There were so few people left who did.

“I never forget a person’s gun-hand,” she replied. “Now drink.”

The warmth of her hands steadied him deep down, as much as her grip steadied his tremor. With her support, he brought the bottle to his lips without spilling a drop.

The juice was sweet and tangy and cold, fresh with no chemical aftertaste. Justin couldn’t remember the last time he’d had real orange juice. Probably it had been before he’d been captured by Apex. Unexpectedly, a memory stole into his mind, of sitting at a kitchen table at dawn, drinking a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and watching the sun rise. He didn’t remember why he’d been up so early or how long ago it had been. But he could recall the peaceful quiet and the gold-streaked sky as if it had been yesterday.

When he’d finished drinking, Fiona asked, “How do you feel now?”

“Better.” He’d felt strength flowing back into him with every sip.  “I should eat something before I try to get out of bed, though.”

She gave him a sharp glance. “A week on that too, huh?”

He nodded, trying to think of a way to change the subject. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t want to talk about it either. Every aspect of his power was painful: what it was, how he’d acquired it...

“Why?” Her tone wasn’t demanding, but neither was it one that he could ignore. “What were you doing that was so important that you couldn’t stop to eat or sleep for an entire week?”

And then there was the part he least wanted to discuss: why he used his power.

Tell her, hissed his snow leopard. She is your mate. She needs to know.

“I...” Justin abruptly felt shaky again. His skin prickled as he broke out in a cold sweat. “Can we hold off on that for a bit? At least until after breakfast?”

Fiona touched his forehead. Her fingers were cool and comforting, and he couldn’t help wishing she’d leave them there. “You look like you need a doctor, not breakfast—”

“No!” The yell burst from his throat without his intention, loud enough to make his own ears ring. She jerked her hand away. Lowering his voice, he said, “No doctors. Seriously, I don’t need one. I’ve done this before and I recovered fine, with no help at all.”

“How’d you manage that?” she asked dubiously.

“Lay where I’d fallen until I managed to fish a few granola bars out of my emergency supplies,” he admitted. “I’m all out, though. I was going to buy more today, but...”

She shook her head, clearly unimpressed with his emergency planning. “I’ll call room service. I’m hungry too, actually.”

He didn’t like the idea of some stranger walking into the room when he couldn’t even get out of bed. But the alternative was Fiona going out alone to fetch something, and he liked that even less.

“I’ll give you the code to turn off the door alarm,” he said. “But can you pass me my bag first?”

She handed him his duffel bag, and he took out his gun. He gripped it, making sure his hand was steady enough to shoot.

“You’re fine,” Fiona said. “You could balance a dime on the barrel.”

He glanced at her, startled and a little alarmed. He’d trained doing exactly that. “You’re not active-duty, are you? On some kind of mission...?”

To his immense relief, she shook her head. He wanted nothing to do with the military. There was no telling who might be passing info on to Apex. “I’ve never served. The people who taught me were vets, though. You?”

“Air Force.” He hesitated, wondering how to describe his current status. He was listed as killed in action, but saying so himself was a contradiction in terms. Finally, he said, “Not any more.”

“Were you a doctor?”

“No. I have paramedic training. But I was a PJ—that’s Special Operations pararescue. Parajumpers.”

Fiona was nodding. “I know. One of the guys who taught me was a PJ.”

For all that he thought he’d left that life behind, he felt the stirrings of pride. “No wonder you shoot so well.”

To forestall any further questions, he bent over to stash his gun under the covers, where he could feel its cold metal against his hip. It made him feel better to know it was there. He might not be able to leap up and punch anyone, but he could shoot from where he was. If he needed to, he could protect her. “Do you want my other gun?”

She tugged at the collar of her blouse, exposing an exquisitely sculpted collarbone and the strap of the shoulder holster.

“I should’ve guessed,” Justin said. “Keep it, it suits you.”

“Thank you, don’t mind if I do.” She passed him the room service menu. Deadpan, she said, “Order anything. My treat.”

“That’s very gentlemanly—I mean ladylike—of you, but I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. I insist on picking up the check.”

“See if you still want to when you read the prices,” Fiona remarked.

He thought of the million dollars he’d confiscated from Elson. Then he opened the menu and read the prices. “Whoa.”

Now she was openly laughing. “You should see your face! This is the Ritz.”

“Twenty-eight dollars for sausage and eggs!?” Justin exclaimed, indignant. “Twenty dollars for sliced fruit and a Danish?!”

“The Ritz,” she reminded him. “Seriously, I can cover it. I’m on the job. It’s a business expense.”

Justin couldn’t help asking, “What is your job, exactly? Are you FBI?”

She shook her head. “Private security. Very well-paid private security.”

“Well, I’m a very well-paid vigilante. So eat up. On me. But since you’re obviously an independent woman who likes to pay her share, you can buy me a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll buy you an entire pot of coffee. Which in this place is a substantial financial sacrifice, let me tell you. What do you want? I’ll call it in.”

He tossed the menu back to her. “Steak and eggs. And a side of bacon and hash browns. And the pastry basket, whatever that is.”

“That’s a lot,” she said doubtfully. “Especially when you haven’t eaten at all in a week. Won’t it make you sick?”

“No. I’ve done this before, remember?”

With a shrug, she picked up the phone and ordered. When she was done, she reminded him of the alarm code. He gave it to her and watched her deactivate the alarm, then stash it in his duffel bag. Then she went back to the minibar and rummaged until she found a bottle of apple juice.

“To tide you over till breakfast comes,” she said.

“Thanks.” Justin took it from her, half-regretting that he no longer needed any help holding it. Being able to drink a bottle of juice without assistance was a pretty low bar. But he missed having her fingers covering his.

“You look better,” Fiona said as he drank it. “I think you need another six nights’ sleep, though. At least.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He hoped she hadn’t stayed up all night to make sure he didn’t stop breathing.

“I did. I watched you for a while, but you just seemed to be very deeply asleep. So I went to sleep too.” A faint pink blush stained her cheeks. “On top of the covers.”

“You could’ve gotten under them,” he remarked. “It’s not like I was in any condition to try anything.”

“You wouldn’t have anyway,” she shot back. “You’re an old-fashioned gentleman.”

“Absolutely. So you’d have been doubly safe.” But the banter about the beds reminded him of something. “Hey, we need to get ready before the waiter comes in. We’re posing as a couple. And you asked for a tray table, so presumably we’re both having breakfast in bed. I’m fine, I’ve got my shirt off and the blankets over my pants. But you should be in pajamas or a nightgown or something.”

Her flush deepened, though her expression didn’t change. “I know. I’ll go change into something more breakfast-in-bed-like.”

She snatched a small suitcase from the closet and vanished into the bathroom with it, leaving him alone in a bed that suddenly seemed big and cold and empty.

My mate, he thought.

He’d been trying not to think about it. The whole thing was a cruel cosmic joke. But Fiona knew it too, so they’d have to discuss it sooner or later. Justin winced, thinking of everything he didn’t want to talk about and would soon have to. Maybe if he just gave her the absolute minimum she needed to know, it wouldn’t hurt too much. And once he told her, she’d know, and then it would be over. He’d never have to talk about it again.

Like pulling off a band-aid, he thought. One quick rip is the way to go.

She took her time in the bathroom. He wondered if she was avoiding getting into bed with him. He’d thought joking about it would make it less awkward and embarrassing, but maybe he’d only made it more so.

She emerged from the bathroom. Justin felt his jaw falling open, and closed it with a snap.

Don’t stare, he told himself.  

It was hard not to. She stepped delicately across the floor, catlike in bare feet. He tried to just watch her feet, since that wasn’t one of the sexier parts of the body. Only on Fiona, they were. Hers were narrow and graceful, with high arches and slim ankles. The more Justin fixed his gaze on them, the more he felt like he was developing a foot fetish.

He raised his eyes. Fiona’s legs seemed to go on forever, slim but strong-looking, like a ballerina’s. Her light blue nightgown was short and silky, swirling around her knees and floating upward with every step she took. She’d taken off her bra to preserve her cover, as no one wears a bra under a nightgown. Her nipples were hard enough to make points against the thin fabric. Because the air was cool? Or...?

Justin forced his gaze upward from her breasts, reminding himself that he was trying not to embarrass her. The lace around the low-cut neckline clung to her chest, its creamy color only a little paler than her skin. She’d taken her hair out of its braids and brushed it out, so it fell down her back like a cascade of white water. It stirred and floated with static electricity, adding to the impression of flowing water.

It was going to be rough sitting in bed with her in that barely-there outfit, feeling her body heat just inches away, and not being able to touch her.

Then touch her, hissed his snow leopard impatiently.

Be quiet, Justin replied.

A faint pink flush colored Fiona’s chest and began creeping upward toward her face. He had obviously been staring at her much too long. To break the tension, he said lightly, “You’re much better prepared than me. I completely forgot to pack my pajamas.”

Her blush faded as she replied with apparent relief, “No pajamas. No granola bars. Did you at least remember your toothbrush?”

“‘Fraid not.”

“Well, I’m not sharing mine. You’ll have to hit the gift store.”

“At the Ritz? Bet it costs a hundred bucks.”

“That’s because it’s gold-plated,” she said promptly.

Justin chuckled. 

A knock at the door made him start. His fingers closed over the gun over the covers.

Fiona went to the door, looked through the peephole, and gave him a nod. But he noticed that she stood behind the door as she opened it, so as not to be in the line of fire if there was any. She opened the door and let in a maid with a push-cart.

“Good morning!” The maid pushed the cart to the bed. To Fiona, she said, “You can get back in bed. Snuggle up!”

Fiona smiled at the maid, and got in bed beside him. She snuggled in next to him as the maid began setting up a large tray table. He sucked in a deep breath at the feeling of her warm body pressed into his. He could feel her chest rise and fall as she breathed.

“Isn’t this nice, honey?” she said sweetly.

He leaned his head against hers. Her loose hair was just as silken as it looked. Strands lifted with static electricity, and clung to his cheek and throat. He had to swallow to make sure his voice would come out smooth before he could say, “It sure is. What a break from the office.”

“You two just relax and enjoy your breakfast,” said the maid as she set an array of dishes on the tray. Then she indicated a remote control on a small table within reach of the bed. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the door has an electronic lock with a remote control. So you don’t have to get up when I leave—you can lock the door from the bed.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Fiona. “No, I hadn’t noticed.”

Justin hadn’t, but he suspected that Fiona had. But she smiled and nodded as the maid demonstrated, then set it back on the table and went out with a wave. When the door closed behind the woman, Fiona raised the remote control and pushed the button. The door clicked as the lock engaged.

For a moment, neither of them spoke or moved. Justin could feel his pulse thundering in his ears. He was excruciatingly aware of every square inch of his skin that was touching hers. It was impossible to focus on anything but that, and on knowing that he should move away from her that instant, and being completely unable to bring himself to do so.

You have to, he told himself. You know her beast spoke to her too. Leading her on is cruel.

“About the mate thing...” he began.

Beside him, he felt her stiffen.

When you had something hard to say, you had to just say it. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but... I just can’t.”

What are you saying? growled his snow leopard. Quick, apologize and beg her to forgive you for your moment of madness!

Be quiet, Justin said silently.

Stop telling me to be quiet, hissed his snow leopard.

Be quiet, or I’ll make you be quiet, Justin retorted.

With a final angry hiss, the big cat subsided.

Fiona had pulled away from him but was watching him intently, her face unreadable. He couldn’t tell if she was hurt or just felt incredibly awkward.

“Look,” he said. “I’m a mess. I think that’s pretty obvious. This has nothing to do with you. You’re great. I just...”

“You just can’t,” she finished. Her voice was chilly. “I get it, all right? That’s all you have to say. I don’t need a detailed explanation.”

Justin was immensely relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was give her a point-by-point breakdown of the extent of his damage and the bleakness of his future.

The next moment, he was ashamed of his own relief, which he had gained at her expense. He’d started a conversation that had obviously made her uncomfortable, when he knew she needed his protection and couldn’t just leave. In fact, he realized, she was literally trapped: with a full tray table over her legs, she couldn’t even easily get out of bed.

Justin picked up the remote control. “Do you know what this is?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Weren’t you listening to the maid?”

“It’s a time-reversal device.” He indicated the light dimmer. “I’m going to hit this button and jump time back... Let’s see... Two minutes.”

She was staring at him as if he was a lunatic, but he was used to that sort of look.

“And then this whole conversation will have never happened,” he went on. “We’ll be back where we were before it began, a well-paid private security agent and a fucked-up vigilante pretending to be a couple, about to enjoy their three thousand dollar breakfast in bed.”

Her mouth quivered with reluctant amusement. “A well-paid fucked-up vigilante. Don’t forget that part.”

“Well, of course. Otherwise I couldn’t afford the time-reversal surcharge.”

As if against her will, a laugh burst from her lips. Then, shaking her head, she settled back against the pillows. “Okay. Hit it.”

Justin pressed the button, dimming the lights, then brightened them again. He looked down at the tray-table in simulated surprise. “Ah! We have breakfast!”

“It seems to have magically appeared.” Her voice was distinctly sarcastic. “How nice.”

“This is the Ritz,” Justin said, imitating her inflections.

Once again, he startled a laugh out of her. Though their bodies no longer touched, they still sat close enough that he could feel the shift as she relaxed. “Stop talking and eat. I keep worrying that you’re going to pass out again.”

A pang that had nothing to do with the lousy shape he was in pierced his chest. Despite her light tone, he could hear that she meant it. He wasn’t used to anyone caring about him for his own sake, rather than because he was a useful tool they didn’t want to break.

Shane cares about you, hissed his snow leopard.

Justin didn’t want to think about Shane. Hoping to distract his snow leopard and satisfy Fiona in one fell swoop, he grabbed the first thing within reach on the tray, a bite-sized pastry from the basket, and stuffed it into his mouth.

His snow leopard wasn’t the only one it distracted. The flavor and textures burst in Justin’s mouth like a firework. Rich cream, tangy lemon icing, fluffy cake. Like the orange juice, the taste wasn’t just good, but shocking to his senses. It was as if he was tasting food for the first time.

Justin raised his mug of coffee, breathing in its scent, then took a sip. It was objectively excellent coffee. Especially compared to all the terrible coffee he’d had in his life. He’d sometimes gotten desperate enough in the field, when he’d needed to stay awake but hadn’t been able to take the time to heat water, that he’d torn open the instant coffee packets in an MRE and poured them into his mouth. Even burned and cold coffee was better than that, let alone the mellow smoothness of the cup he had now.

“Good, huh?” remarked Fiona.

“Best coffee I’ve had in my life. Best pastry, too.” He examined the basket. It was a treasure trove of pastries, from the vaguely healthy (blueberry muffins with a crumb topping) to the decadent (miniature chocolate cheesecakes) to the even more decadent (little pies that appeared to be entirely composed of salted caramel). “Want one?”

“Thanks, I will. When I’m done with my eggs.” She was working her way through a plate of eggs scrambled with lobster and topped with caviar, with fresh fruit on the side.

With that reminder, Justin turned his attention to his steak and eggs. He’d ordered them on the theory that he’d needed the protein. But now he wondered just how delicious they’d be, given the coffee and pastry. He cut into the steak and the fried eggs on top so the orange yolk oozed out over the char marks, topped his forkful with hash browns, and took a bite.

It was, unsurprisingly, the best steak and eggs he’d ever had. The meat was perfectly cooked and juicy, the egg flavorful, the hash browns just the right mix of crisp and soft. He finished it all, along with the (also best ever) bacon in record time. When he was done, he knew that he’d have no trouble getting up. He probably needed a bit more rest to be at his physical best, but his weakness was gone.

But he had no desire to get up. He felt perfectly content to stay where he was, in this comfortable bed with the best-ever pastries and coffee in front of him and Fiona beside him. Stealing a glance at Fiona, who had finished her eggs and was scooping up the last black pearls of caviar with a piece of toast, he thought, I’d be happy to pour a packet of instant coffee into my mouth, as long as she was there with me.

But that thought made him realize something. The Ritz’s food and coffee were great. But it had been a long time since he’d registered the taste of anything at all, good or bad. When he thought back to his last meal, he had a vague recollection of a burger and coffee in a diner. But he had no idea if the coffee had been burned or fresh-made, or if the burger had been juicy or overcooked. The meal had only been fuel to him, and eating nothing but a task he had to perform. He hadn’t even cared enough to find it unpleasant.

“Fiona? Thank you. This was wonderful.” He waved his hand over the breakfast tray.

“Thank you,” she replied promptly. “You’re the one who’s paying.”

He debated if he wanted to say more, so she’d understand how he was feeling—he didn’t want to open the can of worms that was “What’s wrong with you, really? What happened to you?”—but she’d given him something too precious to let it pass without even telling her.

Justin touched her shoulder. She didn’t jump, but he felt her draw in a startled breath. He dropped his hand, but didn’t turn away. “I haven’t enjoyed eating for... years, maybe. It’s been such a long time that I didn’t even realize till I did enjoy it, just now.”

He braced himself for her pity. But it didn’t come. Instead, she gave him a long, thoughtful look, then picked up something from her own plate. It was a tiny, plump, perfect strawberry, brilliant red and speckled with seeds no bigger than grains of sand.

“Here.” She raised it to his lips.

He didn’t have time to think of what a bad idea it was. He just saw her long, elegant fingers, smelled the tart scent, and opened his mouth.

She placed the berry between his lips. He chewed and swallowed in a bright burst of sweetness. Then, unable to resist, he closed his lips over her fingertips before she could pull them away. Her emerald eyes opened wide as he explored her fingers with the tip of his tongue, feeling the soft skin and gemlike smoothness of her nails, tasting the tanginess of berry juice and the faint salt of her skin.

All he was doing was kissing the tips of her fingers. Once, years ago, he’d have thought of that as the smallest of gestures, a bit of foreplay to be enjoyed briefly before getting down to the main event. But now, with Fiona, it had a dizzying intensity. His heart was pounding as hard as if he was halfway through a marathon.  

Her gaze was locked on his as he dropped his hand down to the pastry basket. But he didn’t need to look down. He knew where everything was. Justin picked up a bite-sized lemon cake.

He’d never in his life seen anything as sexy as watching her pink lips open for him. She tipped back her head and closed her eyes as he placed the cake in her mouth. Like he had done, she ate it in a single bite, then captured his fingertips with her lips. The inside of her mouth was soft and wet and hot, so hot. She licked at his fingers as if she was hungry to taste him, then sucked, first gently and then harder, making him imagine what other parts of him she could suck on. A wave of desire broke over him at the thought, so intense that it made him feel half-crazy with desire. He had to have more.

They moved at the same time, two bodies with a single thought, dropping their hands down and leaning in for a kiss. Fiona’s lips were soft as rose petals, soft as velvet, and her mouth was hot as fire. Her scent surrounded him, delicate and sensual as the woman it belonged to. Everywhere she touched him, his skin tingled as if it had fallen asleep and was prickling back to life. But it wasn’t painful. It was ecstatic.

Justin was overwhelmed with sensation—and emotion. Not only his body, but his heart felt suddenly alive again, filled to the brim with feelings so strong that they were halfway to pain. He wasn’t just sexually attracted to Fiona, he was drawn to her as a person—her banter and her brittleness, her strength and vulnerability, her competence and intelligence and kindness. She was so much more than he deserved, and yet here she was.

Maybe, just maybe, his long nightmare was finally over. Maybe there was hope.

He reached out blindly to push the tray table out of their way. Hot liquid spilled over his hand.

Dr. Elihu squeezed a few more drops of liquid on to Justin’s hand. Burning agony penetrated down to his bones, but the gag in his mouth stopped him from screaming.

“It isn’t acid.” The doctor smiled like he’d made a joke. “Of course not! Even with your healing abilities, that would risk permanent scarring. And we don’t want to damage our weapon. This is a harmless nerve agent Dr. Attanasio concocted to send pain signals to your brain. All you have to do to get rid of it is wash it off.” 

Dr. Elihu smiled again. “Or invoke your adrenaline invincibility. Then you won’t feel a thing.”

The pain made him feel cold and sick. Every inch of his skin was sweating. Justin tried to concentrate on ice creeping up his body, but his hand felt like it was on fire. It was impossible to focus on anything but how much he hurt.

Kill the doctor, hissed his snow leopard. Rip out his throat!

Justin knew fighting was useless, but the pain cracked his self-control. His snow leopard took over his body, flinging himself against the straps...

Justin slammed into a hard surface. Something soft was on top of him, smothering him. He flung it off, frantic to escape.

Only then did he realize where he was. He’d apparently thrown himself out of bed in a tangle of blankets.

Fiona had scrambled to the edge of the bed and was leaning over, reaching out to him. “Justin! Are you all right?”

“No,” he managed.

“What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t even begin to answer that. His snow leopard was screaming inside his head in an ear-splitting keen of terror and rage. He could barely hear his own thoughts.

Justin staggered to his feet. “I—I have to be alone.”

He bolted for the bathroom and closed the door behind him. It slammed with a bang that made him jump. Justin stumbled to the sink, twisted the tap, and began splashing cold water over his face.

Stop, he ordered his snow leopard. Stop it!

The big cat fell silent. Justin stood trembling, icy water dripping from his face to his chest, hands gripping the cool porcelain sink.

You’re at the Ritz, he told himself. Not in Apex. The lab they held you in is gone. Dr. Elihu is dead. Shane killed him.

Gradually, he managed to catch his breath. His heartbeat slowed and the shaking subsided.  The shock and fear ebbed away, leaving only weariness. And guilt. What had he been doing? What had he been thinking? How could he have given in to temptation and led Fiona on, when he knew—and had just proved beyond the shadow of a doubt—how unfit he was as a mate for her? It had been selfishness verging on cruelty.

Now that it was over, the whole thing felt surreal. He’d kissed her. Felt a desire intense enough to take his breath away. And before that, they’d been enjoying breakfast in bed together. He’d been joking. Teasing. Even laughing.

For that brief moment in time, he’d felt like himself again. His old self, the one he’d lost. The one who had died at Apex.

You did not die, his snow leopard hissed impatiently. You are here now, living and breathing.

I’m not that guy any more, Justin replied. I’m just what’s left of him.