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

the thought o f her hair away from his mind. “Lay down Samantha. Rest. I’ll be here watching over for you.” Toren made his voice liquid smooth for her.
    Surprisingly, she didn’t argue and just slid down on the bed, pulling his coat close. “I’m so cold,” she moaned.
    Toren went to her and felt her forehead. God, she was hot. Why wasn’t that medicine working yet? Surely it should have after so long? She must be miserable. He lay his hand along her jaw in an attempt to offer a little comfort at least.
    She took hold of his hand before he could draw it away. The feel of her frail fingers on his strong ones stilled his breath. She kept her eyes closed and tugged his hand closer.
    He had to do something more for her. The fire and his coat were a start, and if she hadn't been ill, might have been all she needed. But with whatever germ she'd caught quickly draining her resources, he had to give more.
    “I’m going to lay with you and warm you.” He waited for her protest. When it didn’t come, he climbed into the bed behind her, carefully molding his body to hers and wrapping his arm around her.
    She moaned softly and snuggled close to him sending Toren’s mercury into a frenzy of unfamiliar want. He found himself in a panicked struggle to maintain control of its disobedient behavior. Nothing could have prepared him for such battle.
    Samantha's slight body quaked with violent shivers and faint whimpers followed each breath. He ached to use his abilities and heal her, or at least ease her suffering a bit. She was too precious, too pure, to have to endure so much. Following a series of bone rattling tremors, she turned over and pressed her burning face into Toren's chest.
    God. He froze for an instant, then, in an irresistible reflex, his legs and arms went around her and pulled her closer. His mouth pressed a soft kiss onto the top of her head. He inhaled, drawing her scent deep. Smoke and burnt hair prevailed as the strongest and most recent, and beneath that, fear and sweat. But at the foundation lay her unique female scent combined with some fruity soap concoction she washed her hair with. Some addictive quality therein made him want to absorb every molecule, to savor and relish.
    He fought the impulse to exploit his advantage. The competitive warrior within him demanded he take any opportunity that brought him closer to his objective . His common sense told him he dare not approach winning his chosen mate as if the relationship were a military campaign. She was desperate and vulnerable, the exact conditions to make it all happen. He could set the wheels in motion toward completing his part of the mission. But the ease of his success would be because she was sick. He didn’t find that a very noble way to win a woman’s heart. And Toren knew that if he wanted success, winning her heart was necessary. No doubt that was why he craved it so desperately.

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    “What is pillow talk?” Dorn’s voice was low as he leaned a hip on the counter.
    Kassern grinned and raised his brows. “You’re asking the wrong angel, bro.” Huh, the angel who knew everything found something he didn't know. Imagine that.
    Dorn threw a quick peek down the hall before whispering, “Sally is waiting for me right now,” he poked his finger on the wood plank table, “to do that. Am I going to be talking to my pillow? What's the point?”
    Kassern chuckled at how alarmed the perfect angel was. Not knowing everything about something must be such a hard pill to swallow for the genius bastard. “You could ask her.”
    “I’d rather just know.”
    “Then ask your humans.”
    Dorn sighed then closed his eyes, silently summoning his male human. A few seconds later, Lucian came from the room he shared with Jessie, yawning and running his hands through his hair. He shuffled to the table looking like hell and sat. Gaunt hollows shadowed the contours of his face and beard stubble darkened his jaw to give him a sinister