What was left of the night passed in a hazy blur.
I heard Colin say, "Jace, you look like shit, let me carry him," and then I felt Jace let out a low, warning growl. After that, I was in motion, kind of lurching motion at first, as Jace was still healing.
But his arms around me were bliss. Warm and strong and careful.
I dozed. I was safe, and as weak as I was, I followed my instinct and trusted that implicitly.
Trusted Jace implicitly.
Then the arms were gone, and for a moment I was cold. Then there was some kind of blanket.
And then I slept.
I woke, blinking slowly, to shafts of early-morning sunlight filtering rosy-gold through a set of dusty blinds.
I was on a couch, not a bed, but it was a pretty comfortable couch, and I stretched just like the cat I was, arms over my head and toes pointed.
Fuck, that felt good, working out all the kinks from being clawed and kidnapped and flung into a tree and then healing it all.
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around.
