Summon Toren (Archangels Creed #3) by Azure Boone, Kenra Daniels

days, her muscles warm, and her body humming. She moseyed her way to the surface of the most delicious sleep where some strange reality awaited. Nothing she felt, heard, or smelled, fit any kind of normalcy she knew.
    “How do you feel?”
    Holy cowpies, that voice. Felt like the words grazed her sensitive female parts like jiggly honey. How did she feel? “Amazing.” She opened her eyes finally and narrowed her gaze. The most amazing man stood over her. "Who the hell are you?" The dim light and dark interior of the room confirmed she was somewhere other than her room.
    "You don't… No of course not," he muttered with an odd sort of frown furrowing his brow. “I’m Toren. The new help? You’ve been pretty sick but I think you’re better now.” He started to say something more but seemed to think better of it and clamped his delicious mouth closed.
    Sam let his reply stand and took a quick assessment of her surroundings. They seemed to be in a small cabin that could be called primitive. The dim interior looked a little familiar, which made her think it was probably one of the old line cabins on the ranch. "Where are we and why?"
    "There was a blizzard. We went to put out hay and encountered a fire. You passed out and the snow was getting worse, so I brought you to a cabin we near the second hay shed." He flicked a thumb behind him. “The blizzard seems to have let up finally. Are you ready to get back to the ranch while it’s calmed?”
    She looked all around as memories flooded her. Specifically the memory of his gorgeous lips and body. Clothing covered him, but that was not how she remembered him. Had she hallucinated it all? From the flu? Well of course she had. A man like him wouldn't have done or said any of those things to her.
    She met his ridiculously handsome face—worried face. “How long have I been out?” Her bladder gave a painful warning that she'd better get a move on soon.
    He shrugged. “Couple days.”
    “Shit!” She bolted up in the bed and threw off the covers—“double shit!” She yanked the blanket back and hid her nakedness. What the hell?
    He spun around. “Sorry. Your clothes are on the foot of the bed there. You were soaked and feverish. I couldn't leave you in them. And my apologies for your hair.”
    “My hair?” She suddenly became aware of the cool sensation on the right of her head. Her hand flew up. “Oh my God, what did you do?”
    “I had to cut it there to treat a nasty burn .”
    “Burn? Holy hell, the calf. Did it live?” She looked at him and nearly got lost in those strange bright yet dark eyes. They reminded her of a lake reflecting a full moon.
    He nodded. "I checked yesterday. It was singed a little but it was standing and sucking strong. Its mother really wanted to run me down." He grinned a little but quickly went serious. Then she realized what that gorgeous face was filled with. Pity. She must look like a sight. Great.
    “What’d you use to butcher me with?”
    He blinked. "Butcher?"
    "My hair?"
    "Oh." He presented the lock-blade pocket knife she normally wore on her belt. “Found it in the truck.”
    She held her hand out for it and he placed it in her palm. She jerked when his fingers grazed hers. Shit. What’d he do to her, put a spell on her vagina? His touch and words seemed to all be attached to it somehow. He seemed strange from the moment she met him, but for once in her life she couldn’t afford to believe the worst like she normally would. At least she wasn’t in a box buried in a field chopped in itty bitty pieces. Yet. And judging by the way her lady parts reacted to him she wouldn't object nearly enough if he decided to do something like that.
    She opened the familiar knife and got busy on her hair. At least the blade was good and sharp.
    “What are you doing?”
    His alarmed words made her jump and she angled her glare at him. “What does it look like? You think I should go out looking like I got the right side of my head blown