Free Storm's Heart by Thea Harrison

spurt of adrenaline was a weak one that fled as her muscles seemed to turn to goo. She slumped in her seat. It hurt to breathe.
    A light tap sounded at the window. She forced herself to look up. Tiago stood at the driver’s window again. His madassassin face had morphed into sharp concern. He put his flattened hand on the window. It looked as big as a dinner plate. “Faerie,” he said. “Niniane. Please open the door now.”
    Her arm felt like it weighed fifty pounds as she pushed the lock button. He yanked the door open and leaned over her, his brow creased in a frown. He put a hand to her forehead and took in a quick breath.
    “They all want Niniane Lorelle,” she said to him. Her voice sounded tinny and weird, and echoed in her own ears. “But who am I kidding? That girl died a long time ago. Tricks is just going to have to fake it.”
    His expression gentled in a way she would never have believed if she hadn’t seen it for herself. The satanic killer morphed into a handsome worried man. “Niniane didn’t die,” he said. He stroked her hair. “She just went into hiding for a very long time. She’s a brave, beautiful woman who needs medical attention now.”
    “I know, it’s infected,” she said. She watched as a man from the crowd noticed them and began to walk toward them. A few others joined him, then more. An internal quaking rattled her limbs, and her breathing grew choppy. She gripped Tiago’s thick, strong wrist, and her gaze clung to his. “Please don’t leave me until I get better. I can’t do this alone and sick. You’re the only one I know I can trust.”
    Death came back into his face as he glared at the oncoming crowd. “You couldn’t get me to leave if you tried,” he said. “And you might recall, faerie—you’ve tried. Just relax. I’ll take care of everything.”
    She nodded. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and pulled out of the SUV. He took the Glock from his waistband and pointed it at the crowd. People cried out and jerked to a halt. In his deep battlefield-carrying voice, Tiago said, “Her highness has survived two assassination attempts in less than thirty-six hours. Do not make the mistake of thinking I won’t shoot you, because I will. Back the fuck up.”
    The crowd stumbled back, staring at him. Niniane stared at him too. He was pure aggression, from that powerful muscled body to his hatchet-hewn face, black hair shining wet from the rain and those hard, glittering eyes. The last of her strength ebbed away as she relaxed. He really would take care of everything.
    “Thank you,” she whispered.
    A flicker of his eyes, a small, brief quirk at the corner of his lips. He told the crowd, “Everybody—move across the street. Now.”
    She must have closed her eyes for a minute, because suddenly there were uniformed police all around. She startled violently as her overtaxed body tried to pulse another alarm, but something must have happened when she wasn’t looking. The police had recognized Tiago and were helping, not confronting him. They cleared the path to the hotel.
    Tiago leaned into the SUV one more time to ease his arms under her shoulders and knees. She tucked her face into his neck as he cradled her against his broad chest. Cameras started to flash, sparking in the wet night like fireflies. Tiago’s Power enveloped her, a warm masculine blanket of inexhaustible energy. She concentrated on his scent, on his massive strength, which kept the rest of the chaotic, dangerous world at bay. Thank you, thank you.
    Uniformed staff held the doors as he strode into the Regent. He headed toward the reception desk, intensely aware of the small shivering female in his arms. She felt so vulnerable. Rage swept over him again as he recalled the footage of when she was knifed.
    A distinguished, well-dressed human male with salt-and-pepper hair approached Tiago before he was halfway to the desk. The male was flanked by hotel security. Tiago bared his teeth at them when they