Touch (Dark Gods: Selfish Myths #1)

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Snow falls. It lands on her body, gently covering her in a dusting of frost.

All is deathly quiet, silence and darkness engulfing Love. With her eyes welded shut, her consciousness stirs in and out of a nightmare. The blurred edges of fallen bodies are strewn around the forest, amid flashes of blood and broken archery.

That is all she manages to decipher. Yet before falling into another stupor, Love perceives one other thing.

A touch.

Fingers brush aside her hair, stroke her face, and caress her broken wings. The contact eases the throb in her temple, the cuts slicing across her flesh, and the gaps where feathers have been torn off. When those soft hands reach a bald spot that makes her whimper in pain, a voice murmurs, soothing her.

Arms slip beneath Love’s weight and scoop her off the ground. She hangs limply, her shredded wings drooping, the few remaining plumes dragging across the snow. The savior nestles her against his solid chest, where a strong heartbeat pounds. Lips press into the crown of her head, breathing against her.

She senses them moving, traveling across the woods. The figure stumbles under the weight of her lifeless wings, but he never loses his grip on Love, his embrace tightening protectively.

Love knows his touch. She recognizes these arms, those lips, those hands. And she had been right. He is more powerful than any deity. Because in the aftermath of battle, this mortal is the only one left standing.