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one who woke up to a stranger watching over her.
    Watching over her. The hair raised on the back of her neck. A feeling like déjà vu had her frowning and trying to figure out the cause of the odd, niggling sensation.
    She sucked in a breath. Last night. “Oh, my god.” The tension in her muscles was sapping her strength. As the initial rush of adrenaline wore off, the freshness of her injuries made its presence known with the force of a jackhammer. She couldn’t control her body’s shaking. “You…you were here last night.”
    He lifted his head and laced his hands where they hung between his knees. “Yes.”
    Ella’s mouth went dry. The weirdness of the situation ratcheted up her alarm. A single tear spilled down her cheek. Through everything that had happened to her—her parents’ deaths, her inability to conceive, Craig’s betrayal, the stroke that stole her brother in the middle of the night—she had never once wished for an end to it all. And she sure as hell didn’t want to die, now, not after she’d survived all that.
    The man rose, hesitated for just a moment, then stalked around the bottom of the bed toward the side on which she huddled. His movement opened up a direct shot to the door to the hallway.
    Ella bolted.
    Nakedness be damned, she scrabbled across the mattress and flew to the floor. Her foot slipped and she went down to one knee, but she forced herself to ignore the bone-shattering agony and keep moving. She cursed her habit of sleeping with the door closed, even when she was alone in the house. Obviously, that wasn’t the case, was it? If she survived this, she’d start locking the damn thing, too.
    Without thinking, she reached out with her right arm, grasped the knob, and flung the door open. Lancing pain tore through her from shoulder blade to fingertips. White spots danced behind her eyes and a cold, tingling sweat broke out across her naked body. Oh, no, no. She was going to faint. She shook her head, attempting to defy unconsciousness’s grasp. Swayed. Crashed into the hall wall, knocking a picture frame to the floor in a spray of glass.
    Warmth wrapped around her belly, supported her, cradled her. A soft shushing sounded in her ear. Embraced by the man and the fog of pain, Ella surrendered.
    Her feet left the floor. He folded her body in his arms and tucked her against his broad chest. She felt almost sheltered, and a tingling warmth infused her wherever his skin touched hers. Forcing her eyelids open, she finally focused and found the hard angle of the man’s jaw. He looked ahead, toward wherever he was carrying her.
    “What’s your name?” she whispered, wanting to know all the details of her demise, including at whose hands it would occur. She was getting to see death barreling at her in a way Marcus never did. She wondered which was better—obliviousness or awareness.
    Blue eyes cut down to her face and stayed there. “Zephyros Martius,” he said in a deep rumble.
    She tried to repeat what he’d said, but she wasn’t sure she heard him right. “Zeph,” she managed finally.
    He stopped and gently settled her back on the bed. Soft cotton fell across her skin, covering her.
    Her lethargic brain churned, processed the significance of his actions. He’d kept her from falling, carried her back to bed, shielded her nudity from his gaze, his touch. Someone who meant her harm wouldn’t do that, would he?
    “Who are you?” she rasped.
    He smoothed a big hand up her forehead and back over her hair. “I am the one who can take the hurt away.”

CHAPTER SIX
    Restrained power made Zephyros’s hands tremble. At first, he’d wanted to help Ella because he owed it to her. Now, want bloomed into need . When he’d held her soft curves, the strength of her life force soaked into him. Seldom did he have any cause to interact with humans, let alone touch them, but the soft yellow aura that surrounded her body told him this woman was good, pure, true. A rare character, in his