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sort of shelter, even if it was a hospital. Yes, I was guilty of faking an illness just to spend a night in the warmth and safety of a hospital. I hated the cold, I hated being homeless, I hated the fucker who put me in this position so much the thought of him burned like acid in my chest. As I had stumbled along the street feeling miserable and sorry for myself, heading toward what I hoped was the city I had slipped on the slick ice of the sidewalk and fell in a graceless heap on my ass. As I cursed my pathetic luck a tall figure appeared before me. Instinct kicked in and I quickly climbed to my feet, fists clenched, walls of resolve hastily erected as I faced the threat.
    The towering hulk of a man before me was enormous; he had to be six foot five, maybe more. His shoulders and chest were wide and nicely displayed in a hugging long sleeved shirt. Nicely displayed? Why the hell was I observing my threats hotness rather than gearing up to kick him hard in the balls? For some reason my eyes had developed their own mind and continued to peruse the fine form before me. His long legs were hidden behind well-worn denim. His hair was blonde, that golden sandy blonde that looked like it needed a wash and it hung in his eyes in an almost rebellious style that screamed I-don’t-give-a-fuck. And those eyes, so grey they were almost silver. A tiny smile pulled at one side of his lips in a playful manner. The look screamed bad boy, run, escape, but the gentle concern in his eyes drew me forward. He held his hands up, a gesture of surrender, peace and he told me the open door behind him led to a shelter. I read the large sign over the door and couldn’t believe my luck, I had literally slipped across the doorway of a shelter. He joked about being the only male in a shelter full of women, he arrogantly grinned at how he enjoyed being fussed over by the ladies and I found myself smiling too. I followed him inside with my defenses alert, my fists still clenched ready to fight if necessary. I knew I wouldn’t need to though, this strangers eyes were honest and kind.
    “My name is Jax Carter. This is Mercy’s shelter and I help run the place. There is no reason for you to be afraid here.” Jax, his name rolled through my mind like honey. He turned, expecting me to follow and while my mind said no my feet said fuck off and caught up to the giant man as he strolled with casual ease through the doorway and into a big warm room. Damn he was tall. Marcus had been a big man, but Jax was bigger. And for some reason, even though his overwhelming presence was frightening, I also felt curiously safe. Safe like I had not felt in a very long time. 
                  “Do you have a name?” He asked over his shoulder. I had gone by many names over the years. Kylie, Jemmah, Melanie, but something made me want to tell this stranger the truth. I had no idea why. Perhaps my brain had frozen somewhere between the bus depot and the shelter. He glanced over his shoulder again, most likely to see if I would answer. His lop sided grin sent my heart into some crazy aerobatic somersault.
                  “Ella,” I mumbled. His smile widened and small dimples made those roguish good looks more boyish, more innocent, younger somehow.
                  “That’s a pretty name.” He turned back to lead me through the shelter. Pretty! Ahhh geez. Well if he didn’t blow my senses to hell with his cheeky grin and gentle eyes, the compliment sure as hell did it. I forced myself to look away and take in my surroundings. As far as shelters went, this was by far one of the nicest I’d been in, but also one of the smallest. I wondered if they had room for me. A few curious gazes watched me though not for long. As soon as my eyes met theirs they looked away, normal for places like this. Everyone was running from something or someone. Nobody wanted to give away their miserable stories with the honest truth behind their eyes.  A