Blackwolf's Redemption by Sandra Marton Page A

He didn’t want to scare her, he only wanted to make sure she was all right.
    The room was dark as pitch—she’d closed the verticals. A protective instinct; he understood it even if he’d never have followed it. Being able to see the enemy coming was vital to survival.
    It took a few minutes until his vision adjusted. Still, the soft sound of her breathing, the delicate scent of woman and wild-flowers told him where she was before he saw her.
    Jesse narrowed his eyes. Not that he gave a damn about any of that. The point was, she hadn’t done as he’d told her, after all. Instead of getting into bed and piling on the blankets, she’d fallen asleep in a chair. She looked uncomfortable, her headtilted at an awkward angle, her long legs tucked under her. And she had to be cold. The room was cold enough for him to see the exhalations of his breath.
    “Sienna,” he said sharply. She sighed, shifted in her sleep. Grinding his teeth, he put the back of his hand to her cheek and swore under his breath. Her skin was almost painfully cool.
    “Idiot,” he muttered, but the word lacked conviction. She wasn’t stupid. She was proud. Independent. Determined to do things on her own terms. God knew, he could relate to that.
    Well, he’d run out of choices. He had to do what was logical. What necessity demanded. Take her out of this refrigerator and keep her warm.
    Scooping her into his arms, duvet and all, was easy. She was light, boneless, and though she made a little sound of protest, she didn’t awaken as he carried her from the room. Her head fell against his shoulder. Her hair tickled his nose, and he gave in to the urge to inhale its fragrance as he made his way to the living room.
    He put her on the sofa, grabbed a couple of the blankets he’d left her earlier and arranged three of them on the floor before the hearth, spread the remaining two over the improvised mattress and folded them back. Then he gathered Sienna in his arms and lay down with her against him, both of them wrapped in the duvet and now covered, too, by the soft wool blankets.
    His actions were brisk. Purposeful. As if making a bed by the fire, settling into it with a woman in his arms, was everyday stuff.
    He’d forgotten pillows. It didn’t matter. He could do without one and Sienna… Sienna sighed and put her head on his shoulder.
    He went very still.
    Another sigh. She flung her arm over his chest, her leg over his. He could feel the race of his heart.
    “Sienna,” he said, and cleared his throat, “Sienna…”
    She moved closer. Her hair whispered like silk against his jaw. Sweet Lord, she was killing him!
    Okay. Enough. He could do this. Roll her off him. Put some space between them. Not too much; she needed his body heat but—
    “Jesse?”
    Her voice was as soft as a summer breeze. Her eyes opened and met his. His heart thundered when she smiled.
    “Yeah.” He cleared his throat again. “The bedroom’s too cold. I couldn’t leave you there. You’re safe here. I promise I won’t—”
    “Jesse. You came for me.”
    He told himself she was half asleep. That she was dreaming. He kept telling it to himself even as she wound her arms around his neck.
    “Sienna…”
    He bit back a groan. Her skin had gone from chilled to hot; her hands were like flame on his shoulders. He wanted to kiss her. Put his lips to hers, see if she really tasted as sweet as she had before.
    She did.
    Sweet. Honeyed. And tender. God, so tender, the fit of her mouth so perfect under his.
    Her breath hitched. “Jesse,” she whispered. “Jesse…”
    This was when a decent man would have stopped. Pulled back and said, Sienna, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing.
    But he wasn’t a decent man, he hadn’t been one in a very long time. And when she framed his face with her hands and lifted herself to him, when she bit lightly at his bottom lip, he gave up thinking, rolled her beneath him and took the kiss as deep and savage as the storm that raged