“Mason offered to let us stay with him tonight,” Gabriela said.
“Oh.” Ana tipped her head back and met Mason’s gaze. There were bits of ash in her hair, just as there were in Gabriela’s, and tears had left streaks upon her cheeks. “Thank you, Mason.”
For a moment, Broxen had a powerful urge to stalk across the road, pull Mr. Jensen out of his car, and pummel him, just because he knew the man had caused these females pain and distress. But he also knew it wouldn’t ease his aggression—and that it would only cause more trouble for his female.
Revenge wouldn’t help anything. That was a lesson Broxen had learned firsthand.
He offered Ana a nod and the best smile he could manage, placed a hand on Gabriela’s back, and gently nudged her toward the house. “You’re freezing. Let’s go.”
The females walked to the door with him. Broxen opened it wide, stood aside, and gestured for them to go in ahead of him. They moved to stand in the living room, where they gazed around. Having seen the warmth and coziness, the…the hominess of their house, Broxen couldn’t help but feel oddly self-conscious now. He closed the door behind himself and strode past his guests.
“Sorry. I, uh… I know it’s not much.”
Gabriela placed her hand upon his arm and met his gaze. “It’s fine, Mason. It’s…everything to us right now.”
He smiled at her. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t do anything but that for a few seconds. When he was finally able to move, he covered her hand with his.
Her skin was cold as ice. Broxen’s smile fell.
“Both of you, come with me.” He led them into his bedroom, grateful that he usually kept things neat. “You can take the bed. I’ll get some clean bedding on it, and, uh…”
He walked to the dresser, tugged open a drawer, and rummaged through it until he found a few t-shirts, a pair of drawstring sweatpants, and a couple pairs of basketball shorts.
“I know they won’t fit well, but I don’t have anything smaller,” Broxen said as he held the clothing out to Gabriela. He tilted his head toward the bathroom door. “You can shower in there. Clean towels in the closet.”
“Thank you.” Gabriela took the clothing and turned toward Ana. She handed her daughter a shirt and a pair of shorts. “Go ahead and shower, Ana. Try not to get your bandage wet. We’ll get some sleep after, okay?”
Ana nodded, clutched the clothes to her chest with one hand, and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Gabriela stared at the door for a moment before turning to face Broxen again. “I…can’t thank you enough. For what you did.” Her eyes watered. “You…you saved my baby girl.”
She was still trembling, and her skin was paler than usual. While he knew how it felt to be cold, he couldn’t begin to understand the emotions she must’ve been experiencing—couldn’t begin to guess at what she was thinking.
Or…perhaps he could.
There was something in her voice that he recognized, something he knew well after what had happened to Astius. Something he’d felt tonight, when he’d heard Gabriela scream and he’d run outside to see flames rising from the roof of her house and the sky filled with smoke.
Helplessness.
Broxen would’ve given his life to protect Astius not because it was his job, but because of the friendship they’d developed. In some ways, he had—because this was nothing like the life he’d known. That relationship had taken years to form. He already knew after this short while that he’d lay down his life for Gabriela and Ana, but more importantly, that he would sacrifice anything to make them happy, to ensure they never felt so hopeless, so terrified, so broken again.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Broxen said. He stepped closer to Gabriela and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently steering her toward the bed. “Sit.”
She stiffened, holding herself in place, and tears spilled down her cheeks. “But you saved her, Mason. You got her out of there. Without you, she—”
“Sit, Gabriela.” He pushed a little more firmly, trying to remain mindful of how small she was, of the immense strength disparity between them. He never wanted to hurt her; he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself even if he were to harm her by accident.
She offered no resistance this time, and when the backs of her legs bumped the bed, she dropped down to sit on its edge. She stared at him the whole time with big, dark, beautiful eyes that were currently red and bloodshot.
Broxen frowned down at her pants. There were ice crystals clinging to the fabric around the hems and over her shins, and smears of ash on her thighs. Kneeling down, he cupped her calf with one hand, lifted her foot off the floor, and peeled her sock—which was soaking wet and partially frosted itself—off her dainty foot. The skin beneath was pale and damp and freezing.
“She’s safe,” he said as he repeated the process with her other foot. “You are safe. Don’t think about what could have happened. She’s still here. You’re still here.” He lowered his hands to her ice-cold feet and wrapped his fingers around them. He slowly massaged them, willing warmth back into her flesh. “You would have found a way…but you didn’t have to. I was there for you. For Ana.”
Taking care with his claws, he rubbed her soles with his thumbs, working his way up from her arches to her small toes and then back down to her heels. He’d never seen such delicate feet before; each of hers was smaller than his hand. Were he not careful, were he not gentle, he could easily crush them. It once again reaffirmed how much larger and stronger Broxen was than his female—his female who was currently freezing.
She needed to get out of her wet clothing before she could truly warm up, but he could not go that far. Not yet. He brought her feet together, covered them with his hands as fully as possible, and leaned down, releasing a deep, warm breath onto them. He glanced up and stilled when his gaze met hers.
Gabriela’s eyes were wide, and she was clutching the bedding on either side of her, the blanket wadded between her fingers. Her breath had quickened, causing her chest to rise and fall with her rapid breaths. Broxen’s gaze dipped. The outlines of her nipples were visible through the thin fabric of her pajama shirt.
The muscles low in his belly tightened, and his cock pulsed. That quickly, he remembered his hunger for her. His craving. His lust. And the way she was looking down at him, with that mix of surprise and anticipation, only made him want her more.
Yet as arousing as this moment was—as sensual as him kneeling before her, caressing her bare feet was—he could allow himself no enjoyment of it. His female had suffered greatly tonight in more ways than one. He would not take advantage of that suffering. He would claim Gabriela as his own, but it would be when she was of clear mind.
“Mason…” Gabriela whispered.
The door to the bathroom opened, and Ana stepped out, startling Broxen and Gabriela. They turned toward her. Broxen’s shirt dwarfed the kit, hanging well past her knees, and his shorts were as long as pants to her. Her hair was wet, hanging around her shoulders, and her face was clean of the soot.
She raised her bandaged hand. “I accidently got it wet when I was washing my hair.”
“Oh.” Gabriela frowned. “Um, we could—”