She snuggled into a mattress of droopy fronds and moss leftover from his last exploration. The crinkling beneath the spongy moss made enough noise to wake the dead, yet she slept on. A fierce need to protect her swept through his very center, battling his resolve to remain wary. Overwhelmed by his heightened emotions, he inhaled slowly, bolting her unique bouquet inside his senses, a light floral scent that permeated her hair despite her saltwater dunking. Unable to tear his sight off Morgan’s serene face, he clenched his thighs, preventing his hands from touching her. His body thrummed from the control it took not to wake her and resume what they’d started. It’d been so long since he’d had a woman, scarce and precious in his ravaged world. At first, he believed his dream of Morgan was demon-wrought, meant to divert him from hunting Fomorians or finding a way off the island. He hardly remembered the last dream he’d experienced living in the remains of Los Angeles—New Angeles.
