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His husky baritone proved to be a lifeline and she clung desperately. Inch by inch, she pulled herself from the thick, cloying darkness surrounding her. Even though every movement hurt. Strider, she had to reach Strider. That had been her last thought, she recalled. Her last thought before—

She’d heard so many screams. Of terror, of pain. Hers, so many others. The scent of melting skin had hit her nose and she’d gagged. Gagged now, remembering. Released the lifeline. Down, down she fell, back into the darkness.

“Kaia! I’m not going to tell you again. Wake the hell up. Now!”

Strider. She grabbed the lifeline once again. Again she tugged her way up…up… A bright light waited at the surface. She had only to reach out…grab it…almost there…another tug…

Her eyelids popped open as a gasp of shock and lingering outrage lodged in her throat. She was panting and sweating, muscles locked onto bone. She tried to sit up, but hard hands held her down.

“No. You’re still healing, so I don’t want you moving.”

Suddenly Strider’s beautiful face loomed over her. His deep blue eyes were glassy, feverish. Concern etched deep lines around his mouth and his normally tanned skin was nearly as colorless as his hair. No, not true. There were spots of color, but they were bright red welts and blisters.

He was naked. Seeing him, something sizzled inside her. Knowledge, power, connection. Yes, a connection more prevailing even than what she felt with Bianka. More than binding them, that connection wove them together, until she couldn’t tell who was who. They were simply one.

“Are you all right?” Gods, even speaking hurt. Her throat was raw, agonized, as if someone had scraped the insides with jagged glass and then, just for funsies, painted the bleeding flesh with acid.

“I’m fine, so don’t worry about me. Worry about you. You’ve been out for three days.”

Three days? Her eyes widened. “The third game—”

“Starts two days from now. Bianka has kept me informed.”

Thank the gods. Still. Three days. “I must look terrible,” she muttered. She would have finger-combed her hair, but decided lifting her arm would require too much effort.

“You look alive, and that’s goddamn beautiful to me.”

Darling man. Her heart skipped a beat as she soaked up his praise.

“Besides,” he said, “we’re both clean. Lysander gave me robes. Angel robes. A stack of them. Every time I put a new one on, it was like taking a bath. You, too. Everything from your hair to the bottom of your feet was—is—washed. And let me tell you, that was weird.”

Why tell her that? Unless…oh. Oh. He wanted her. Okay, she would put the effort into that. Arousal warmed her up and her nipples tightened.

Her gaze swept over her body to catalog the damage she’d have to work around.

She was naked, her shoulders discolored and scabbed. Stomach, fine. Legs, fine. Ankles, bruised. Not bad.

She was lying on a faux fur rug her twin must have delivered, inside a nearly barren white tent, the air around her heated even though the air by the flapping entrance was almost crystallized from cold.

Leaning his weight into one arm, Strider was careful not to brush the long, thick length of his erection—and oh, yes, he had one—against her. Warm heat instantly pooled between her legs. She craved his touch, his mouth. Wanted to explore this new, deeper connection thing. She licked her lips.

“You move fast,” she said with a grin.

“Damn it, Kaia. Get your mind out of the gutter and talk to me. I’ve been waiting patiently for days.”

His pet name for her brought her gaze back to his face. The concern was back full force and she recalled why she was here, in the condition she was in—and the danger she had become to this man. She didn’t have to push her sexual need aside. It vanished on its own.

“Okay. Yes. What do you want me to talk about?”

His eyes glinted down at her. “First, if you ever had any doubts that I’m your consort, you can put them to rest. You slept next to me.”

Not the terrible topic she’d expected and she relaxed against the fur. “Sorry, darling, but that’s not how the consort sleeping thing works.”

He gave her a fierce frown. “How does it work, then?”

“Naps don’t count if the Harpy falls asleep while injured. I have to sleep next to you when I’m healed and that hasn’t happened yet.”

“It will.” Determination radiated from him and she knew he saw this as a challenge. A challenge he clearly accepted.

She didn’t let it bother her, though. She wanted to sleep next to him, cuddled into his side, something she’d never done with another man. How or why that occurred didn’t matter.

“Now tell me what the hell happened,” he continued, each word gruffer than the last. “Did those men…are you…?” Okay. Blisters weren’t the only thing coloring his face now. Fury did. So much fury.