couldn’t stop shivering.
Her legs felt increasingly rubbery beneath her, her black boots seeming to gain an extra pound of weight for every step she took as she hurried to keep up with Rafe’s long strides.
Her hands were no longer glowing. The power she had siphoned off the woman Rafe had called Jordana had begun to leave her even before they’d made it out to the parking lot. Now, she was paying the price for using her ability.
In another few minutes, she would be completely drained.
Rafe glanced at her and frowned. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she shouted through the rain. At least, she thought she shouted. Her voice sounded weak, hardly more than a croak. “Keep going. I’m right . . . behind . . . you.”
“Like hell you’re fine.”
She took a sluggish step and stumbled. Rafe’s hands were underneath her before she had a chance to hit the pavement. Scooping her into his arms, he stared down at her, his handsome face pinched with concern.
“You need help. First, I need to get you out of this rain.”
She wanted to argue against needing anything from him, but her mouth had gone dry as all of her energy faded away. Her head was too heavy to hold up now, even though it felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. Resting against Rafe’s muscled chest, she had no choice but to give in to the comfort of his strength.
His heat warmed the chill that gripped her. His body was firm and solid as he carried her, his arms holding her aloft as if she weighed nothing at all. And Lord, he smelled good too. Even in her weakened state, her senses responded to everything male in him.
“There’s a park across the street,” he said, his deep voice vibrating against her ear. “I’ll find us some shelter to wait for the storm to clear. Then you’re going to tell me what the hell I just witnessed back there in the museum.”
In moments, they were beneath the timber roof of a covered picnic shelter in a secluded corner of the empty park. Rain pattered in the surrounding trees and on the shingles overhead, while the dark sky rumbled with thunder.
Rafe set her down on the wooden bench seat beside him. Her head was still woozy, her skull throbbing from a pain that was building swiftly now that she was sitting upright. Or trying to, that is. The post-ability crash was coming on fast now, sapping what little strength she had left.
“Shit,” Rafe hissed as she listed toward him. “Come here.”
She couldn’t fight him as he drew her close, settling her across his lap on the bench. It had been years since she used her psychic ability, mainly because of the price she paid afterward. But she had never experienced pain and depletion like this.
She had never experienced the kind of awesome power she’d pulled from Jordana, either.
Devony moaned, shuddering and cold as the last of that power leached out of her, leaving her as helpless as an infant. She hated this weakness. Hated it even more because Rafe was seeing her this way.
“Christ, you’re ice cold.” Shrugging out of his leather jacket, he laid it over her. The added warmth felt nice, but not as good as the intense, permeating heat of his body beneath her, or the soothing comfort of his hands moving tenderly over her face and brow. “Does that feel better?”
It did, she realized. The savage pound kicking up inside her skull was ebbing under his touch. She nodded, not yet able to form coherent words. Her eyelids lifted and she stared up into the face of a golden angel. A scowling angel, whose grim concern was focused entirely on her.
And he was still touching her. His fingers stroked her forehead and temples, while his gaze clung to hers.
It felt more than good. It made her crave the feeling in a lot of other places on her body.
A weak moan escaped her as she struggled to lift up from his lap.
“Relax, Brinks. You’re not in any shape to even think about moving yet.” He shook his head and exhaled a curse. “Tell me your name. Your real name this time.”
It leaked out of her in a whisper. “Devony.”
He gave her a nod, the edge of his mouth quirking in response. “Devony. That’s a hell of an improvement over Brinks. Now, stay put, Devony. Let me help you.”
Accepting his help was the last thing she wanted, but she didn’t have the strength to