The Griffin Marshal's Heart (U.S. Marshal Shifters 4) - Page 56

No wonder he hadn’t been able to look away from her. She was always going to be the true north on his compass, and he would love her for his whole life and with his whole heart.

He had worried about letting her tie her heart to his, but they were tied now. He didn’t have to worry or wonder. It was almost a relief to know that he could just love her, because there would be no way to get himself to stop. They belonged with each other.

Except—

Except she wasn’t a shifter. She was looking at him now with nothing more than a beautiful, slightly sleepy smile, like she was still only half-awake.

He couldn’t ask too much from her, especially not right away, when she wasn’t even completely conscious. They could have this conversation once she was safe.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Right now, all that mattered was getting her warm again.

“Coop,” Gretchen whispered.

He brushed her cheek, relieved to see a little color creeping back into it. “I’m right here.”

“This is all I wanted.” She closed her eyes again. “Get you somewhere safe. Get you back to being you.”

“We’re safe, I promise. No one’s getting through that storm.”

“No one but you,” she said softly. “You’ll be fine, Coop.” She turned her head to press her lips against his fingers, and then consciousness seemed to smooth out of her face again. She’d slipped back out of consciousness again.

That worried him. All the hot soup and coffee in the world wouldn’t do her any good if she wasn’t going to be awake to drink it. He needed to get her body temperature back up, and his options were limited.

Seeing her so cold, pale, and still, like some kind of white marble statue, scared the hell out of him. She was supposed to be vibrant, thrumming with life and energy, crackling with intensity. This was almost like she was dead.

The thought made his chest tighten up.

He kicked off his shoes and slid behind her on the sofa, bracin

g her in the V of his open legs and cradling her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, willing as much of his body heat as possible to flow into her. Willing his life to flow into her, if necessary.

“Come on, Gretchen,” he said under his breath. “Come on, sweetheart. Come back to me.”

The motel owner returned, this time with a tray attached to his walker. Two bowls of soup rested on it, with steamed-up plastic lids keeping their contents from spilling as the movement jostled them around. Cooper would have admired the efficiency of it all a whole lot more if he hadn’t been so worried about Gretchen.

The old man took in the sight of this federal prisoner cuddling a US Marshal and pursed his lips slightly. “She still not warming up?”

Cooper shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. You must have called 911, did they say—”

“Why would I have called 911?”

Of all the questions he might have expected, that wouldn’t have been one of them.

“Because a guy in a prison jumpsuit just demanded to come into your motel?”

“Son, it would take a lot more than that for me to pry into something that’s none of my business. If you tried to take the girl back out into the cold with you, then I’d call 911. But I don’t think you’re going to do that, do you?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. “Besides, the phone lines have been down for over an hour now. No cell signal right here, and the phone wires are so damned delicate half the time they go down if a bird shits on them wrong. You don’t need to worry about cops swarming down on you.”

“I’m not worried. I just need paramedics to swarm down on me. I’m not a doctor. I don’t know what she needs.”

“You’re awfully concerned about a woman taking you to prison.”

Cooper was too tired to come up with anything but the truth. “I love her.”

The old man just nodded. “I was thinking it had to be something like that. You knew her before?”

He shook his head. “Just met her earlier today.”

“It was like that with me and my wife, God rest her.” He cleared his throat, and Cooper looked up just enough to notice that the man’s red-rimmed eyes were shimmering with tears. He still wore a wedding ring, one tarnished with age. It looked at home on him. “If she’s still so cold she can’t even shake to get herself warm again, you’re going to need more than just that one blanket. Come on and I’ll get you a room. You can use the blankets and the comforter in there.”

Tags: Zoe Chant U.S. Marshal Shifters Paranormal
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