Page 45 of Protector of Talon Mountain

She meets my eyes with a searing look—lips swollen, vibrant red, cheeks flushed, and eyes unsteady yet brimming with fierce, lingering pleasure. Her hair is a riot of untamed disarray, her body exposed and gloriously spent, looking more magnificent than ever.

Lowering myself onto my elbows, I enshroud her in my arms, letting our bodies finally merge completely as I give a final thrust and find my own release. Her legs cling tightly to my waist as if to hold on until the world outside ceases to exist, and I have no desire to let go.

I trail gentle, incendiary kisses along her temple, her cheek, and the delicate corner of her mouth—each touch a potent reminder of our connection. As she tilts her face up, her lips press against my neck, and I freeze, cherishing every second of this heightened communion. My hand ascends along her back, finding its place between her shoulder blades, anchoring her to me with undeniable intensity.

Eventually, I ease apart with careful, deliberate movements, rolling to my side and drawing her close with every shift. She curls into my chest as though it is her only sanctuary—her cheek pressed against my pulsating heart, one leg entwined with mine, her breath a soft, feverish caress on my skin.

For a long, charged silence we exist; words are needless in the electric stillness that envelops us. Her fingers trace sinuous, intricate paths over my ribs while my hand tenderly stokes down her spine, keeping her irrevocably near.

Then she shifts slightly, not breaking our connection but just enough to lift her head and fix her gaze on me—her eyes full of a raw intensity that sends my heart into a wild, swelling beat.

“You scare me,” she says quietly.

I pause, hand stilling at the small of her back. Her eyes are open—clear, honest, searching.

I don’t flinch. I don’t pull back. Instead, I brush her hair from her face, lean in, and press a kiss to her forehead. “Good,” I say. “Because that means you care.”

Her breath catches. “I do.”

I nod, not needing anything else from her at this moment. I already feel it—in her body, her eyes, the way she lets me in.

Tonight was just the beginning, that much is certain. Adam, Brent—those bastards—and whatever else is going on in Glacier Hollow and whoever is responsible are still out there. Still lingering and threatening.

Sadie curls tighter into my chest, her soft breath warm where it meets my skin and even where it doesn't. Her heartbeat wild, frantic and unfocused. Just like mine. I hold her tenderly until the only sound left in the room is our breathing, fading like a distant echo in an empty cavern. A soft rhythm shared between us that makes me feel like we're the only ones left in the world.

I know, without question or the faintest shadow of a doubt, that this wasn’t just sex. It would never be just a release. We crossed a line, and once crossed, it could never be uncrossed. A claim made, raw and urgent, and there’s no going back now.

Tomorrow, whoever is out there threatening my woman and my town is going to come to the harsh realization that the mountain and all of its inhabitants have been reclaimed. That it belongs to me, to us. And soon, very soon, those who are responsible are going to bleed.

12

ZEKE

Apiercing wail jolts me from sleep. The distinct, urgent cry of the town's volunteer fire department siren slices through the predawn stillness, setting my pulse racing. Beside me, Sadie stirs, her warmth a fleeting comfort as reality crashes in.

"Zeke?" Her voice is thick with sleep, laced with concern.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, muscles coiling with readiness. "It's the fire alarm," I say, reaching for my jeans. "Something's wrong. I have to go"

Sadie sits up, allowing the sheet to puddle in her lap, wide awake now. "Be careful."

I nod, pulling on my shirt and boots with practiced efficiency. The shrill siren continues its relentless call, each pulse tightening the knot in my gut. As I fasten my belt, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I snatch it up, recognizing Caleb's number.

"Zeke," he says the moment I answer, his voice taut. "Joe's garage is up in flames. The fire department is already here, but it's bad. The shop area is going to be a complete loss. The fire's threatening the fuel pumps."

"Damn it," I hiss, adrenaline surging. "Any sign of Joe?"

"Negative. He's not answering his phone, and no one's seen him."

"I'm on my way." I end the call and turn to Sadie, who watches me with a mix of fear and determination.

"Joe's garage is burning," I inform her, grabbing my jacket. "Stay here. Lock the doors."

She opens her mouth to protest but thinks better of it, nodding instead. "Be safe, Zeke."

I stride to the door, pausing briefly to look back at her. "I'll be back soon."

The drive to Joe's garage is a blur, my mind racing faster than the truck's engine. As I approach, the night sky glows ominously, the acrid scent of burning fuel seeping through the vents. Flames engulf the structure, licking hungrily at the darkness, while firefighters battle valiantly to contain the inferno.

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