Protective. Almost possessive. Like she was his. Like she’d always been in some way. With a few awkward maneuvers, he managed to lock the door before carrying Becca to the lumpy, full-sized bed with an ugly floral bedspread. He was ready to figure out what was causing everyone around her to pass out so he could take her to Neonopolis where she could be truly safe. Flinging back the blankets, Sterling laid Becca on the mattress, tossing aside her shoes, and then covering her. Black hair fluttered over her pale, heart-shaped face, and he reached down and stroked it gently away from her brow. He didn’t even know he had “gentle” in him, not anymore, and not since, well, those days back in the library with her. And here she was now, bringing out the tenderness in him when he would have sworn it wasn’t possible. He checked her pulse; it was steady, and so was her breathing. Even her skin tone had color now. The ICE seemed to be finally working. A series of coded knocks sounded on the door.
What do You think about The Storm That Is Sterling?
