––––––––

Fiona’s shoulder burned like she’d been stabbed with a red-hot poker. Her skin prickled with cold sweat, and she felt sick and dizzy. So this was what it felt like to get shot. It was even worse than she’d imagined. She knew she should be coming up with some story or plan in case the police stopped them, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but how badly her shoulder hurt. And worse than that, on how the shock and pain had made her lose control of her ability to shift, and trapped her in the body of an animal.

For what must have only been a few minutes but had felt like an eternity, she’d thought she’d never be able to become a woman again. It had been her worst nightmare turned into a terrifying reality. She’d almost felt the slippery ice under her paws, heard the echo of a furious voice...

And then another voice had cut through her panic. With every reason to be as frantic as she was, Justin had remained calm and confident. She’d clung to the sound of his voice and the comforting touch of his hands as if she was lost in a blizzard, and he was the ranger come to rescue her.

He’d saved her. Not just by treating her wound, but by using nothing but his voice and hands to rescue her from a fate worse than death. Without him, she could have lost her humanity forever.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You saved my life.”

“Thank you,” he replied softly. “You saved mine. Took a bullet for me. You’re not supposed to do that. That’s supposed to be my job.”

He had been walking smoothly and carefully, but his foot came down on a loose cobblestone, jolting him forward. The shock ripped through her entire body. She choked back a cry of pain.

“Sorry,” Justin murmured. “I know how much it hurts. We’re not far now. What can you feel under your hands?”

Surprised by the question, she had to concentrate even to figure that out. She had her arms draped around his neck. “Your shirt.” She moved her hand a little. “Your skin.” It was smooth and warm, good to touch. “Your hair.”

“Try rubbing some of my hair between your fingers. Pay attention to how it feels.”

She obeyed. It was silky, almost hot from the sun. The pain faded from her awareness as she tried to feel the individual strands, how they slipped through her fingers...

...and then they were in cool shade, going up a flight of stairs. They’d reached the apartment, she realized. They were safe. Home.

Justin laid her gently down on the bed, locked the door, got out the medical kit he’d packed in his duffel bag, and examined her. She lay still, watching him. His sharp features were taut with worry, but they relaxed by the time he was done.

“No broken bones,” he said. “No shock. It’s painful and you lost some blood, but it’s not a serious injury. At least, not for a shifter. If you rest today and tomorrow, you should be up and about the day after.”

“Perfect timing.” The day after tomorrow was Carnival.

“No pressure. If you’re not up to it by then, I can tackle Bianchi myself.”

“No—I won’t let you go alone—” She tried to grab his arm, but sharp pain lanced through her shoulder. She couldn’t repress a moan.

“Easy. Nobody’s going anywhere right now. Let me get you something for the pain.” He filled a syringe and gave her a shot. “Take a deep breath. Again. One more. How do you feel now?”

Just like that, the pain was gone. So was the sick dizzy feeling, along with the inability to focus. Fiona could hardly believe it. “That was fast.”  

“Let me know when you need more. This should hold you for tonight, though. I’m going to change the bandage now. Close your eyes if you’re squeamish.”

“It’s my body,” Fiona pointed out, and kept her eyes open.

Despite the circumstances, she liked watching him work. His hands moved so deftly, and he was so quick and confident. It was only a few minutes before he was done, and he pulled the blankets over her.

“Do you want to sit up or lie down?” he asked.

“Sit up.”

He put his arms around her and helped her sit up, stuffing pillows behind her back. “How’s that? Comfortable?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“I’ll make you some tea. It’ll help with the blood loss.”

Now I know what he was like before Apex got him, Fiona thought as she watched him make the tea.

“Your patients must have loved you,” she said.

“My patients had usually just gotten shot in Afghanistan, so they would’ve loved anyone who was trying to help them instead of trying to kill them.”

She looked at him. “You can’t tell me that’s all there was to it. If you ran into some crying civilians, who’d be better at calming them down, you or Shane?”

“You’d be surprised how comforting Shane can be when he puts his mind to it. But yeah, it comes a bit more naturally to me.”

“Would you want to be a medic again?” she asked.

He looked up from pouring tea into a mug, his dark eyes thoughtful. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t... Nah, I shouldn’t talk about this now. You’re hurt, you need to rest.”

“I am resting. What were you going to say?”

“I’ll tell you while you drink your tea.” He sat down beside her, blew on the tea, then held it out to her. “Careful. It might feel a bit heavy.”

She took the mug, but as he’d warned her, it felt heavier than it should. Justin caught her hand and helped her support the mug before it could spill.

“Go on,” she prompted him. His hands stayed where they were, keeping hers steady, as she drank her tea.

“I hadn’t expected to survive taking down Apex,” he said quietly. “And I didn’t much care. I guess you might’ve figured that out.”

Despite the heat of the tea, his words made her feel cold. “I wondered.”

“But now...” He looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. “I found something worth living for.” 

Fiona also looked away. The rush of relief she felt was making her eyes burn, which was strange. Crying was a weakness. She could make her tears flow as part of a role she was playing, but she hadn’t cried for real since she was nine years old. But though no tears came, when she spoke her voice came out as thick as if her throat was clogged with them.

“I’m so glad, Justin. I thought you’d changed your mind, since we came here. But if you hadn’t, I was going to stop you. I had no intention of letting you just throw your life away.”

“Seriously?” Now he sounded choked up. “Don’t worry about that. I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.”

He cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was back to normal. “So, back to your question, I hadn’t thought about what I was going to do in the future because I hadn’t thought I had one. Now that I do, I still can’t go back to the Air Force. There’s no way I’m getting that close to the government again. So yeah, once all this is over, maybe I would like to be a paramedic. Though it might be a bit... slow... after being a PJ.”

Fiona nearly bit her tongue on the suggestion that leaped to her mind. Was it too soon? Or perfect timing? Mentally crossing her fingers, she said, “You could join Protection, Inc. It’s got all the excitement you could possibly want. And you’d get to do medical stuff sometimes.”

Justin didn’t react badly, but he didn’t jump up and down for joy, either. He merely said, “Shane invited me too.”

“I know.”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“And?”

“I’m still thinking about it. Here...”

He tilted the mug so she could get the last drops of tea. In that gesture, like when he’d bandaged her shoulder or helped her sit up, she could feel his caring as strongly as if it was transmitted through the palms of his hands. He was like that with all his patients, she was sure. No wonder they’d loved him. Having all that concern and attention directed at her was comforting, but something about it brought back that burning in her eyes.

Because he loves you so much, purred her snow leopard. It fills your heart until it overflows.

Because he doesn’t love me, Fiona corrected her. Because none of this is personal. He’d be like this with everyone. And I want it to be just for me.

I see, the big cat purred. So it’s like that, huh?

Fiona realized that in her annoyance at her snow leopard’s complete misreading of the situation, she’d said things she’d normally keep to herself. Things she’d normally keep from herself. She wished she hadn’t. Her eyes burned more than ever.

To her great relief, Justin got up to wash and put away the cup. That gave her time to collect herself.

I’m the snow queen, she told herself. I don’t cry. Tears are hot liquid. Everything inside me is ice.

She pictured that ice closing around her heart in a glassy shield. The burning subsided. When he returned, she was back to her regular cool self.

“Do you want to sleep in what you’re wearing?” he asked. “Or shall I get you your nightgown?”

The last thing she wanted was to get into that hot, scratchy granny-gown she’d bought at the airport in the hope of discouraging lustful thoughts (both his and hers). But she never slept in her clothes. On the other hand, tonight was the one night that she could strip naked, if she liked, and neither she nor Justin would be tempted to make a move.

“Could you bring me the nightgown I wore in the Ritz?” she asked.

He brought her the short satin nightgown and laid it on the bed. In a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “I can help you get into it.”

She tried to raise her left arm, winced, and said, “Thanks.”

He put on a professional manner as he helped her out of the black dress and into the nightie, keeping his eyes fixed on her face the entire time. His face flushed a faint pink in the few seconds she was naked, but he neither said nor did anything that would have been out of place from a doctor to a patient. A minute later, he’d tucked the blankets back around her.

Her gaze went toward the bathroom as she recalled the sleeping arrangements of the night before. Following it, Justin said, “You’re not sleeping in the bathtub tonight.”

Fiona wasn’t sure she was even capable of getting out of bed, but she had to put up at least a token resistance. “If you’re on the floor—”

“If you want me to, I’ll share the bed.”

She blinked, startled by how easily he’d given in. “You will?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will.”

She must have still looked confused, because he gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face and said, “I left Shane when he was hurt and needed me, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I won’t leave you now. Not even to go as far as the floor, if you want me closer.”

“I want you closer.”

“Then I’m here.” He pulled off his shirt, giving her a tempting view of his shoulders and chest. Also of his treasure trail, which he hadn’t dyed to match his hair. It drew a bright copper line down the groove between his abs before vanishing at his belt buckle. “Do you mind if I just sleep in my boxers? That’s what I normally do, but...”

She snickered. “You can lay off the vomit-colored pajamas.”

“I was thinking of them as fungus-colored, myself. But close enough.”

He stripped down to his boxers, then got into bed with her and clicked off the light. Moonlight shone through the window, giving his hair a gloss like a raven’s wing. With a hopeless longing, she wished she could stroke it. Not because it would make her feel better, though she was sure it would. Just because she wanted to.

Quietly, Justin said, “You’ve never been wounded before, have you?”

“No. I’ve gotten some cuts and bruises. Nothing serious. But you said this wasn’t serious either.”

“Medically, it’s not. But it’s a bullet wound and it’s not that far from your heart. Three inches lower and you could have died.”

“This is a cheery conversation to have right before I go to sleep,” Fiona said, uncomfortable. She didn’t know where he was going with it, and she wasn’t sure she’d like where he ended up.

“I’m talking about it because it’s the kind of thing shakes people up. If you wake up in the night and need anything—another shot of painkiller, some water—or if you want me to hold you—just say my name. I don’t want you lying there suffering and embarrassed to say so. If you need a little help, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Yes, it is, Fiona thought. Then she reconsidered. Justin had sounded like he was speaking from personal experience.

In all the time they’d been together, she’d never asked him about the scar on his chest. Nor had he pressed her for any details of her past. It was as if they’d both decided to treat their time together as if it had neither a past nor a future, but existed only in a beautiful and temporary bubble of present time.

But he was so close, nearly touching, that it felt as if she’d been given permission to get more intimate.

“You’ve been wounded,” she said.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Did it shake you up?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t like him to answer in monosyllables. She knew she was pushing him and hoped it wasn’t too far. But there was something she wanted to know.

“Did you need help?”

“I—” Justin fell silent. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him to forget it, he burst out with, “I can’t talk about it, I’m sorry, I just—”

“No, I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “Forget about it. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he sounded calmer. “Don’t worry about it. Now go to sleep. You need your rest.”

“Good night, then.”

“Good night.” He brushed his fingers over her uninjured shoulder, light as a feather, then turned over to face away from her.

She closed her eyes. The pain was gone, and she felt nothing but an overwhelming sleepiness. Despite what Justin had said, she doubted she’d wake him up with demands for water or painkillers, let alone for him to hold her. She couldn’t imagine asking for such a thing. Talk about needy!

Not expecting to wake till morning, she fell fast asleep.

She awoke in an unlit room flooded by silvery moonlight. Her shoulder didn’t hurt, but it felt stiff and heavy. For a moment, she was confused, first unsure where she was, then puzzled by why she was in the bed rather than the bathtub. Then memory flooded back, along with the knowledge of what must have woken her.

Justin lay rigid on the bed beside her, his hands clenched into the pillow, every muscle tensed. Though the room was cool, sweat beaded on his forehead. His hair was wet with it. He muttered something Fiona couldn’t catch, then made a choked sound as if someone was strangling him.

“Justin?”

He awoke with a gasp, black eyes opening wide and unseeing, and flung off the covers, shouting, “No! Stop!”

“Justin,” Fiona said, keeping her voice calm and low. “You’re safe. You were dreaming. You’re here with me now.”

He rolled over, still breathing hard, and raised himself on one elbow to look at her. She watched his expression shift from fear to confusion, and then to concern.

“Do you need another shot?” he asked. “I’ll get my kit.”

“My shoulder’s fine. I woke up because you were having a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Justin lay back down, but he didn’t relax. His whole body was shaking as if he had a fever.

Cautiously, unsure if her touch would be welcome, she laid a hand on his shoulder. As if he’d only been waiting for that permission, he threw an arm around her and clutched her like a drowning man snatching at a rope, pressing his cheek against hers. She could feel his chest heaving in wrenching breaths like sobs, but she couldn’t tell if the wetness on her skin was sweat or tears.

Fiona held him tight, stroking his hair and back. She couldn’t tell him it was all right—it clearly wasn’t—so she said again, “You’re safe. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Gradually, his shaking subsided to occasional tremors, and his breathing evened out. He said something, but it was too muffled for her to understand.

“Sorry, I didn’t...” she began.

Raising his head, he said, “They strapped me to a table. The metal was so cold. I fought and fought, but I couldn’t break loose. A doctor bent over me. He...” Justin broke off, shuddering.

Tear out his throat, hissed her snow leopard. He hurt our mate.

“I’ll kill him for you,” Fiona said, quiet but certain. “Just tell me his name.”

Justin managed a faint smile. “That’s sweet of you. But you’re too late. Shane already did.”

“Then the next time I see Shane, I’ll thank him with a box of chocolates.”

He let out a huff of breath in surprised amusement. “Put a ribbon on it.”

“Oh, absolutely. A big red one. In a bow.”

Justin gave a deep sigh, and she felt a little of his tension ease. “You do that.”

He lay quietly for a while, his breath warm on her throat. Then he said, “Fiona?”

“Yes?”

Seconds ticked by before he replied. “This is something I’ve never told anyone. I remember the first time I jumped out of a plane. Once my chute opened, it was fun. But that first moment that I looked down, the moment before I jumped, I was fucking terrified. And my first time in combat, same thing. I was fine once it started. But that moment before...”

“Justin, I’m sure everyone’s like that. Do you really think you’re the only person to be afraid for a few seconds before you risk your life?”

“Nobody says so.”

“You didn’t say so,” Fiona replied. “Look, being afraid doesn’t make you less brave. It makes you more brave. There’s nothing special about doing something you’re not afraid to do.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem. There’s something I’m scared of, and I’d actually rather not do it.”

“What is it?”

“I know we agreed to keep our hands off each other.” His muscles began to tense again as he went on, “But I’m scared that if you stop touching me, and if I fall asleep like that, I’ll... I’ll...”

He didn’t need to finish. She knew what he was thinking. He’d be right back there on the cold metal table.

Tightening her grip around him, she said, “I’m not letting go of you, Justin. I...”

She wanted to say, I’ll never let you go.

But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want her. Not as a mate, anyway.

“You’re my friend,” she said instead, trying to keep her voice steady. She didn’t want him to know that she was holding back tears. “Go to sleep. I’ll hold on to you.”

Justin let out a long, fluttering sigh. Then she felt him relax. When he spoke, his voice was calmer than it had been since he’d woken up. “Thanks. I’ll get your box of chocolates later.”

“With a red ribbon?”

He shook his head. “Green. To match your eyes.”

Justin settled himself against her, and she felt him yawn. Then, with his head on her chest and his soft hair caressing her throat, he lay still. Within minutes, his deep breathing told her that he was fast asleep.

Fiona lay awake longer, holding him close. She knew it made no difference whether she slept or not—it wasn’t as if she could scare nightmares away—but she felt like she needed to stay awake to guard his sleep.

His words came back to her as vividly as if he was whispering in her ear: They strapped me to the table.  I fought and fought.

She shuddered. Justin stirred in his sleep, his fingers flexing against her back.

“I’m here,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “I won’t let you go.”

He gave a soft sigh and turned his head into her touch. Now his lips were pressed against her throat. Fiona shivered, though not from cold. Then weariness overcame her, and she too slept.

––––––––

She awoke to golden morning light.

Justin lay nestled into her side, with one arm thrown over her waist. He was fast asleep. A bar of sunlight fell across his face, turning his eyelashes to tiny fans of flame.

Fiona eased herself up, bracing herself on her right hand, to get a better look at him. She expected him to wake up the instant she moved, ready for danger, but he slept on.

When she’d watched over him at the Ritz, he’d looked pale and worn down, his bones sharp beneath the skin and his body tense, as if even sleep brought him no true rest. But the sun of Venice had given him a warm tan, and the meals he’d cooked had filled out his body. He was no longer painfully thin, but as lithely muscled as the leopard he could become.

Normally, even when he seemed happy, there was an underlying wariness to him, as if he was forever waiting for the other shoe to drop. It clung to him even in sleep. But now, for the first time since she’d known him, he looked at peace.

Fiona felt a tremendous rush of tenderness toward him. She wanted to protect him and heal his wounds, fight by his side and hold him all night.

I love him.

The realization was terrifying, but undeniable. She loved him like she’d never loved any man before. Like she’d never love any other man. And though he was right there with her, even touching her, she could never have him the way she wanted to have him. He was willing to be her friend, but nothing more.

Her eyes burned as she thought, This is what happens when you lose control of your feelings. If I can be content with being Justin’s buddy, then I’ll be happy that I’ve gained a friend. If I keep wishing I could be his mate, then I’ll be frustrated and lonely and feel like I’ve lost out on something I never had to begin with.

Her snow leopard gave an annoyed hiss. You are his mate.

Tell him that, Fiona retorted.

The big cat gave a feline shrug. Our mate has been badly wounded. He is in too much pain to see clearly. Once he feels better, he will come to his senses.

Fiona doubted that very much. Sure, once he recovered more, he’d be ready for a relationship with someone. But no amount of emotional healing on his part could change who Fiona was, any more than everything she’d done since she’d joined Protection, Inc. could erase her past.

But there was no point dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. She’d made her choices, and now she had to live with the consequences. That was all there was to it.

The burning in her eyes increased until a tear overflowed. It fell to Justin’s cheek with a tiny splash.

Fiona jerked back, horrified, as he opened his eyes. The movement jarred her shoulder, and she winced.

Justin sat up, his eyes widening with alarm as he took in the tears that ran down her face. “You should’ve woken me up! Let me get my kit, I’ll give you—”

“No, no,” she said hurriedly. “My shoulder’s fine. It aches a bit, that’s all. I don’t need anything for it.”

Justin, who had already swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stopped still, frowning. “You’re crying. If it’s not your shoulder, what is it? Did you have a nightmare?”

She could give him that excuse, and save herself the hideous embarrassment of confessing her unrequited love. It would be so easy to convince him. He’d already half-convinced himself. “Yes,” she could say. “I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamed I was bleeding to death. I feel all shaken up, just like you said.” He’d hold her and comfort her and tell her it was normal after being wounded in combat. And that would be it.

It was incredibly tempting. She knew he’d believe her. And if she told the truth, it would make their relationship much more awkward, and make her seem pathetic. And needy.

No, hissed her snow leopard. Do not lie to your mate!

Fiona gritted her teeth. The idea of telling Justin the truth was so much scarier than facing armed terrorists had been.

“Fiona?” Justin laid his hand over hers. “If you don’t want to talk about it...”

And there he went, giving her an easy out. She wouldn’t even need to lie. She could honestly say, “I don’t want to talk about it.” He’d make the wrong assumption, of course, but wasn’t that really on him?

No! Fiona told herself. It’s too late for me, but I’m not going to lie to him now. Justin deserves better.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.” To her horror, she once again dissolved into tears as she went on, “I was crying because—because I’m in love with you—and you’re not in love with me.”

For a moment, Justin simply stared at her in utter astonishment. Then a brilliant smile broke over his face, bright as the rising sun. “But I am.”

He leaned in and kissed away her tears. His lips were warm against her skin, his touch gentle. He stroked her back as if she was a cat, and like a cat, she arched her back into his hand. And then his lips met hers, and his passion proved his feelings better than words ever could. A part of her that had been frozen for years melted like frost under a summer sun.

He does love me, she thought, almost too dazed to respond. Maybe I don’t deserve it. Maybe I’ll lose it once I he knows my secret. But right here, right now, Justin loves me.

“Should I stop?” Justin asked suddenly.

“What? Why?”

“Your shoulder.”

She had completely forgotten about it. Now that he’d brought it to her attention, she noticed that it did ache. But she had absolutely no wish to stop.

“Just don’t throw me up against the wall,” she said.

“I’ll save that for later,” Justin said with a grin. “And speaking of safety...”

“You don’t need to run out for condoms. I have an IUD.”

“Just as well,” he remarked. “No idea how to ask for them in Italian. I’d probably come back with an eggplant. Or—”

She interrupted him with a kiss. Their tongues met with equal passion, sending delicious tingles of pleasure up and down her spine. His strong arms closed around her back, making her feel safe and protected. His hands slipped under the short hem of her nightgown, stealing their way up her thighs until she gasped into his mouth. His attention was on her, for her, and burning with desire. 

Justin carefully lifted off her nightgown, slowly working it over her injured shoulder. He set it aside, then sat back and looked at her naked body. The heat in his eyes was like black fire. She felt herself get wetter just from watching him watch her, as if she was the most desirable woman in the world. As if he’d die of longing if he couldn’t have her, right now.

“You’re so gorgeous.” His voice was husky. “I’ve got the most beautiful thing in the most beautiful city in the world, right here in this room.”

“What about the Grand Canal?”

Justin shook his head, smiling. “Not even close. It isn’t warm. It doesn’t breathe.”

Fiona reached up and tugged at his boxers. They slipped off, leaving him naked. Then she too got to feast her eyes. He was perfectly proportioned, tall and leanly muscled, with long legs and broad shoulders. She found herself fascinated by different parts of his body in turn, now that she finally had permission to look her fill. His fingers were long and graceful, his collarbones and the hollows of his pelvis beautifully sculptured, his nipples pink nubs that she couldn’t wait to tease with her fingers and mouth.

His rock-hard erection showed her just how much he wanted her, not just with his heart and mind but with his body. A glistening drop of liquid beaded at the tip. She sat up and licked at it, enjoying its slippery sweetness. Justin groaned at the touch of her tongue, his body stiffening and his fists clenching at his sides.

Then he moved back. “Better save that for later. I haven’t made love in three years. At least. And I only get one shot.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can go more than once.” Teasingly, she added, “Maybe you’re no spring chicken anymore, but you’re not that old.”

He looked at her with such tenderness that it made her heart ache. “But there’s only one first time with you.”

And so when he started to crouch down on the bed, she pulled him back up. “You’re right. For me too. So let’s be face-to-face. I’m ready now.”

He lowered her down until she was reclining with her back propped up by the pillows. “I think this’ll be the least jarring position for you. But stop me if it hurts.”

She couldn’t imagine that she’d notice if it did, but she nodded. Her anticipation was so intense that she was trembling with it, her breath shuddering in her throat, her heart pounding. Justin too was breathing hard, his hands shaking. She had the sense that he was barely holding himself in check.

He knelt over her thighs. Even that contact was enough to make her gasp. His steel-hard erection touched her mound, sending a shock of pleasure through her body. She instinctively thrust up at him, making him whisper, “Easy. Let me do the work.”

He bent to kiss her. Eagerly, she kissed him back. Their lips locked together as she stroked his fine hair, his rough stubble, the smooth muscles of his back. He slowly pushed through her slick folds until they were fully joined, then began to gently rock inside her rather than thrust. She’d never felt anything like it. Every movement sent waves of pleasure through her entire body, building and building until she could hardly bear it.

She forced herself to open her eyes, which had fallen closed. She wanted to see Justin’s face. His eyes were open, gazing at her with so much love that she felt like her heart would break. Or maybe it had already been broken, and what she felt now was the ache of healing.

The waves crested and broke over her in a crescendo of ecstasy. For a brief but eternal moment, she didn’t know where she started and Justin left off. They were one being, joined together in a timeless joy.

As she lay contented in his arms, toying with his silky hair, Justin suddenly chuckled, his chest vibrating against hers.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“You,” he said. “You slept in a bathtub for an entire week, when we could’ve been doing this instead.”

“People who sleep on the floor shouldn’t throw stones,” she retorted. Then, curious, she asked, “Why did you?”

“I’m guessing the same reason you were in the tub. I thought you weren’t in love with me. Well, and also I figured I’d be dead in six months, max. And even if I wasn’t, I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t so damaged. I didn’t want to tie you down.”

“You don’t.” Her fingers interlaced with his, then closed tight. “You lift me up.”

But she couldn’t help thinking of her other reason for denying their bond. What would happen if Justin learned the truth about her past—the truth about her?

Nothing, purred her snow leopard. Except bring you closer together.

Fiona doubted that very much. The thought of telling him felt like running naked into a snowstorm. But as she’d told him, there was nothing brave about doing something that didn’t scare you.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” she admitted. “But I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us.”

Justin clasped her hand, running his thumb in little circles over the back of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready.”

She swallowed. Her heart was beating quick as a rabbit’s. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let me just get it over with. And then you can think... whatever you’ll think.”

He didn’t so much as blink. His dark eyes, that could look so cold and hard, now seemed soft as velvet. “It’s not exactly shocking that some bad things happened to you. You never talk about your past. It’s like you sprang full-grown from the Protection, Inc. office. So I already know something happened. I just don’t know what. But whatever it is, it won’t make me think less of you. And—”

“You can’t know that!” Fiona burst out.

As if she hadn’t spoken, he went steadily on, “And it won’t make me love you any less. Because nothing could.”