Her thighs trembled and her hands fell away from his head.

Giving her one final, lazy suck, he lifted his head.

She stared at the ceiling, chest heaving, her body limp. He moved over her, and she met his gaze. When she spoke, her voice was cracked and hoarse.

“That was quite a kiss.”

Yes, he thought, sorrow brushing at the edges of mind. I had to make it one to remember.

But he didn’t voice his thoughts. Instead, he sank into the roses next to her. As he did, something stabbed his shoulder, forcing a gasp from his lungs before he could stop it.

She sat up, her hair tumbling around her. “What is it?”

He sat, too, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. But it was useless. The pain was on his right side, his field of vision a black void.

“Here, let me.” Haley leaned behind him. There was another brief pinch, then she held something small and brown between her fingers.

A thorn—long with a tapered, wicked-looking point.

He took it from her. “One must have sneaked in. No one has tended this place in years. The roses grow as they will.” He tossed it away.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I know.” Warmth spread across his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

He pressed his lips to hers, silencing her protests with his mouth.

She melted, easing back into the roses.

He followed her down, giving her his weight and his kiss. The warmth grew, seeping through his shirt and feeding the roses beneath them. He kissed her harder.

Another to remember.

19

Haley stood at a pair of glass doors in the conservatory and watched the sun peek over the horizon, its early morning rays scattering diamonds across the snow. She was wrapped in the blanket again, her bare toes curled against the chilly slate floor. The conservatory overlooked a deep valley bordered by soaring mountains, their jagged peaks like white arrowheads against the gray sky.

Footsteps approached behind her, and a smile spread in her mind. A moment later, Bard appeared at her side, bringing the scent of juniper and sandalwood. He wore his jacket again, the dark color the same as the silver in his hair.

“Here,” he said, handing her a ceramic mug. “I found coffee.”

She wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the heat sink into her frozen fingers. Funny, she hadn’t been cold all night. It was only now that the sun was coming up that she felt the winter in her bones.

Of course, she spent the night curled next to an Alpha werewolf, his body giving off heat like a furnace.

As her cheeks heated, she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder at the bath. Dawn sunlight turned the water pink and made the surface sparkle. She let her eyes wander to the wall of flowers, where the pink blooms sprawled across a sea of green vines. Some of the roses were crushed, their petals spread open.

“Keep them open,” he’d ordered her, leaving her sprawled on the flowers while he plundered her sex.

“Too hot?” Bard asked.

She jerked around, meeting his gaze.

The coffee, she realized. He meant the coffee.

“Um, no,” she said. “Thanks.”