full weight against it, horrified when her actions made absolutely no impact. Something had wedged the door shut. She hammered on the wooden surface and shouted for Lazz, panic sweeping through her.
He was out there. Whatever had caused that hideous noise and knocked out the generator, Lazz had been there when it had happened. The flashlight. Where had she put her flashlight? She stumbled back toward the fireplace and found it on the table that fronted the love seat. Switching it on, she hurried to the front door and threw it open. The storm had circled back on itself and continued unabated, lashing the clearing and forest with wind and rain. Thunder rumbled, the rolling boom a far different sound than the one that had knocked her off her feet. Lightning forked a jagged path across the sky, and that’s when she saw him.
Lazz came toward her through the rain, tall and broad and—as far as she could tell—undamaged. Ignoring the stab of pain from her ankle, Ariana shot across the porch, down the steps and into the storm. He broke into a run as she made a beeline for him. The next instant, he scooped her up into his arms.
“Are you all right?” he demanded, urgency underscoring the question.
“Fine. I’m fine. What about you?” Her hands raced over his face and down across the breadth of his shoulders, searching for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”
“Nothing serious.” He hustled toward the porch. “Though it was a close call.”
She knew she was crying, but hoped he attributed it to rain instead of tears. “What happened? What made that horrible sound?”
“Tree came down. Took out the generator shed a few seconds before I got there.”
The tears came faster. “It didn’t hit you? You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
His arms tightened around her, holding her snug against his heart. She could feel the calming beat, the steady reassurance that he’d survived and was here with her, safe and sound. “I got brushed back by a few of the smaller branches. Nothing serious. But the tree blocked off the back of the cabin.”
He carried her across the threshold and inside. The symbolism of his actions didn’t strike her until much, much later. “Show me. Show me this ‘nothing serious.’” Struggling free of his hold, she shoved at his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders, not even aware of her actions. “Show me where you were hit,” she demanded.
He didn’t fight her. He must have understood her fear and concern. “Across the shoulder. Right arm.”
“Take off your shirt. Let me see.” She aimed the flashlight at his torso and waited. When he didn’t immediately move to comply, she added, “I’m serious, Lazz. Do it.”
He gripped the bottom of his shirt and whipped it up and off. For some reason, he focused on a point over her shoulder, almost as though standing there before her, stripped to the waist, had left him vulnerable on some level. She understood the feeling all too well, considering that not an hour ago their positions had been reversed. Now it was her turn to care for him.
It took her a moment to regain her focus. She’d seen him bare chested any number of times. It still had the power to steal her breath away. Heaven help her but he was built. His jeans rode low on narrow hips, offering her plenty of viewing room.
Strong, lean muscle rippled across the endless expanse of golden skin, begging for her touch. Soft against hard. Gentle overlaying power. She felt the piercing siren’s call of The Inferno—no, not The Inferno. Lazz had insisted it was lust, nothing more. No matter how she might long for it to be different, their feelings for one another weren’t the stuff of legend.
Ariana forced herself to put aside foolish dreams and examine Lazz for any signs of injury. She found evidence almost immediately. Several gouges streaked across his shoulder and down his chest, while a bruise was already forming across his right bicep.
The beam from the flashlight trembled.
He was out there. Whatever had caused that hideous noise and knocked out the generator, Lazz had been there when it had happened. The flashlight. Where had she put her flashlight? She stumbled back toward the fireplace and found it on the table that fronted the love seat. Switching it on, she hurried to the front door and threw it open. The storm had circled back on itself and continued unabated, lashing the clearing and forest with wind and rain. Thunder rumbled, the rolling boom a far different sound than the one that had knocked her off her feet. Lightning forked a jagged path across the sky, and that’s when she saw him.
Lazz came toward her through the rain, tall and broad and—as far as she could tell—undamaged. Ignoring the stab of pain from her ankle, Ariana shot across the porch, down the steps and into the storm. He broke into a run as she made a beeline for him. The next instant, he scooped her up into his arms.
“Are you all right?” he demanded, urgency underscoring the question.
“Fine. I’m fine. What about you?” Her hands raced over his face and down across the breadth of his shoulders, searching for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”
“Nothing serious.” He hustled toward the porch. “Though it was a close call.”
She knew she was crying, but hoped he attributed it to rain instead of tears. “What happened? What made that horrible sound?”
“Tree came down. Took out the generator shed a few seconds before I got there.”
The tears came faster. “It didn’t hit you? You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
His arms tightened around her, holding her snug against his heart. She could feel the calming beat, the steady reassurance that he’d survived and was here with her, safe and sound. “I got brushed back by a few of the smaller branches. Nothing serious. But the tree blocked off the back of the cabin.”
He carried her across the threshold and inside. The symbolism of his actions didn’t strike her until much, much later. “Show me. Show me this ‘nothing serious.’” Struggling free of his hold, she shoved at his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders, not even aware of her actions. “Show me where you were hit,” she demanded.
He didn’t fight her. He must have understood her fear and concern. “Across the shoulder. Right arm.”
“Take off your shirt. Let me see.” She aimed the flashlight at his torso and waited. When he didn’t immediately move to comply, she added, “I’m serious, Lazz. Do it.”
He gripped the bottom of his shirt and whipped it up and off. For some reason, he focused on a point over her shoulder, almost as though standing there before her, stripped to the waist, had left him vulnerable on some level. She understood the feeling all too well, considering that not an hour ago their positions had been reversed. Now it was her turn to care for him.
It took her a moment to regain her focus. She’d seen him bare chested any number of times. It still had the power to steal her breath away. Heaven help her but he was built. His jeans rode low on narrow hips, offering her plenty of viewing room.
Strong, lean muscle rippled across the endless expanse of golden skin, begging for her touch. Soft against hard. Gentle overlaying power. She felt the piercing siren’s call of The Inferno—no, not The Inferno. Lazz had insisted it was lust, nothing more. No matter how she might long for it to be different, their feelings for one another weren’t the stuff of legend.
Ariana forced herself to put aside foolish dreams and examine Lazz for any signs of injury. She found evidence almost immediately. Several gouges streaked across his shoulder and down his chest, while a bruise was already forming across his right bicep.
The beam from the flashlight trembled.
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