The heavy weight of impossible emotions squeezed down on her windpipe. She couldn’t breathe. Kenna couldn’t make a sound as she clutched her throat. Julianna was turned away, folding her jeans, and never saw Kenna’s hands grasp her throat. Immediately Lore was there. Clothed only in tights that molded powerful thighs and disappeared into period boots, he dragged her against his chest. “Breathe! Slow and easy, baby.” His command cut through her panic, his lips talking into the top of her head. “That’s it. It’s all right. Stop scaring yourself. What the hell were you thinking?” His gentle crooning and the overwhelming tide of concern that washed through her panic effectively diluted it. He didn’t exactly invade her mind, but there was no question he would if she hadn’t responded. His grip on her mentally, though gentle and soothing, was firm and much more direct than it had been five minutes ago. As oxygen rushed into her brain, Kenna found she was losing the ability to focus anyway.
