Three
JOSIE
Okay.
I'm pretty sure this big, beautiful—winged and horned—man just called me mate.
And all I can think is—
Is he Australian?
Because that's a thing, right?
People call each other mate.
Although considering the unusual appendages, I'm thinking he's from somewhere a little farther south.
Like… Hell, maybe.
Oh my freaking God.
What the heck is going on?
“Mister?” I whisper, shaking his massive shoulder. “Mister, please wake up.”
Nothing.
His eyes stay closed.
His lashes are unfairly long.
Like, Disney-princess-level long.
Seriously, how is that fair?
“Come on,” I mutter, trying to get leverage beneath his arm. “Help me out here.”
I grunt as I attempt to haul him upright.
“Jesus, you're heavy.”
The train rocks gently beneath us, but somehow I manage to wedge him half onto the bench and half against me.
My entire right side is currently being crushed by approximately seven feet of gorgeous, unconscious man.
And wow.
He smells incredible.
I inhale before I can stop myself.
Chocolate.
Dark chocolate.
And cinnamon.
Warm and rich, and delicious.
My stomach growls.
“Great,” I mutter. “I haven't had dinner and now you smell like dessert.”
His body radiates heat.
Not fever heat.
Not sick heat.
Just… hot. So hot.
The man himself is all warm muscle and broad shoulders and solid weight.
“Oh my God, this is crazy,” I whisper. “I can't be attracted to you. I don't even know you, and I'm pretty sure you're not human.”
His head falls against my shoulder.
I swear his lips brush the sensitive skin below my ear.
A shiver races through me so violently I nearly squeak.
Every hair on my body stands on end.
“Please wake up,” I hiss. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do at the next stop. I can't carry you!”
No response.
I glance around the train car.
The businessman who'd been asleep earlier is gone.
The older woman with the knitting?
Gone.
Apparently everyone saw the giant winged man roar like a dragon and collectively decided this was above their pay grade.
Honestly?
Fair.
But not me.
Because I am an ER nurse.
And nurses are apparently born with some sort of broken self-preservation gene.
Then something miraculous happens.
He stirs.
Those strange, glittering black eyes open.
And lock onto mine.
For a second, I forget how to breathe.
Again.
I really need to stop doing that around this man.
His gaze softens immediately.
Like seeing me eases something inside him.
“I'm sorry I frightened you, Myrrin,” he murmurs.
His voice.
Sweet baby Jesus.
Deep.
Smooth.
Like melted sin poured over velvet.
Then he stands.
Taking me with him.
One second I'm sitting.
The next?
I'm airborne.
I stumble with a startled yelp.
Which somehow results in him catching me.
Actually catching me.
His huge hands slide beneath my thighs, hoisting me up and supporting me.
He just picked me up.
Picked.
Me.
Up.
I squeak.
An honest-to-God squeak.
And instinct takes over.
I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, so I don't fall.
The giant man freezes.
Then his entire body vibrates.
Not shaking.
Not trembling.
Vibrating.
Like…
Like a giant cat purring.
Okay.
That's weirdly adorable.
Also concerning.
Also kind of sexy.
Which means I clearly need therapy.
“Um…” I say weakly because I need to do something.
I’m not light.
Quite the opposite in fact.
And he just passed out, so he shouldn’t be carrying all my weight.
His eyes close briefly.
A smile—an actual smile—touches his beautiful face.
“You are perfect, Myrrin.”
I blink.
“Excuse me?”
He nuzzles his cheek against my hair.
Actually, nuzzles.
What is happening?
“I understand why you doubt my strength, and I'm sorry for my display of weakness,” he says quietly. “My powers have been unstable lately. But that is over now.”
His dark eyes find mine again.
“Because of you.”
“I don't understand any of this.”
Understand?
Can you say understatement?
I barely understand my electric bill.
Now I'm apparently being bridal carried by Satan's supermodel grandson.
“And my name is Josie,” I add.
He nods solemnly.
“Josie is a beautiful name. I call you Myrrin because it is a term of affection where I come from.”
“Um…” I swallow. “Where exactly is that?”
He opens his mouth.
But before he can answer, the train screeches.
The automated voice announces my stop.
My stop.
And reality returns with a vengeance.
I have work again tomorrow.
I have laundry to do.
My fridge contains only yogurt and sadness.
And I am currently clinging to a seven-foot-tall horned mystery man.
“One moment,” he says calmly. “I should restore my glamour before I frighten the pedestrians.”
Glamour?
Before I can ask, he slowly slides me down his body.
His hard in surprising and unexpected places body, which—nope.
Not thinking about that.
Absolutely not.
His hands remain on my waist.
And I watch, actually watch, as the air around him shimmers.
Power pulses outward.
Invisible and yet somehow completely visible at the same time.
Magic.
Real.
Actual.
Magic.
Another squeak escapes me.
His horns fade.
His tail disappears.
His magnificent black wings dissolve into nothing.
And suddenly he looks… human.
Well.
Human-ish.
If human men commonly stood seven feet tall, dressed entirely in black, and looked so devastatingly handsome they made movie stars seem average.
Holy.
Fuck.
He is gorgeous.
“I am glad you think so.”
I freeze.
“You can read minds now, too?”
He smiles.
And Lord help me.
That smile could probably start wars.
“Only yours, Myrrin.”
Oh.
Sure.
Because that somehow makes this situation less terrifying.
“Come,” he says, taking my hand. “We have much to discuss.”
The train doors slide open.
And like a completely starstruck idiot—
I follow him.