Finally, something clicked: get the snow off her. All it was doing was keeping her cold and wet. He brushed the snow off her jeans and onto the floor, undoing her coat so that the warmth could reach her.
“Do you have a blanket?”
“Yes,” the man said, “in the little room behind the desk, but it’d be faster for you to fetch it yourself. These days I make the damn DMV look efficient.”
“Will you look after her?”
“Sure. She doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”
Cooper hightailed it behind the desk and into the room the man had mentioned, which was basically a little cubbyhole: he guessed the owner holed up in there on night shifts to stay within easy reach of the bell in case they got a surprise guest. There was a ratty couch and a plaid fleece blanket.
He took the blanket back out to Gretchen and gently wrapped it around her, tucking it up over her ears to warm them up too. He knelt down beside the sofa, stroking her hair.
If the old man asked, Cooper was just trying to comb the snowflakes out. He didn’t have to know that Cooper would have been doing it anyway.
Suddenly the old man’s gnarled hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.
“Here,” the man said gruffly. He handed Cooper a steaming mug of coffee. “It’s only instant, but it’s better than nothing. I don’t know if you’ve noticed it or not, son, but you’re dripping ice all over my lobby and shaking like a leaf. You need to get something warm in you.” He followed the coffee with a big wad of gauze stuffed in a roll of duct tape. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig, and blood’s hard to get out of the carpet. I don’t have much in the way of first aid supplies, but this should help you tape yourself up.”
This was really a day for people being nicer to him than he’d ever expected. He cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He lifted up the hem of his shirt and looked at the bloody mess he’d made.
Thank God for accelerated healing.
He flattened the gauze against the wounds and strapped it down.
“Duct tape will do everything,” the old man said, watching him. “They say that, and they’re right. Now I’ll go make up some soup for you and the lady.” He took a few steps and then paused, turning back over his shoulder to scrutinize Cooper again. “Did you just break out of prison?”
Cooper smiled. “No, they’re just moving me from one to the other.”
“And the lady?”
“She’s my ride. A United States Marshal.”
“Well, that’s all right, then,” the man said, and he went away again.
Cooper went back to stroking Gretchen’s hair. “It’s all right, Gretchen. We made it.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a second, he was just unbelievably relieved to see her waking up.
Then it was like fireworks went off inside him, a cascade of lights and sparks that he’d never, ever felt before.
She was his mate.
His griffin had been buried too deeply inside him for him to recognize it before, but now that he’d found his way back to his own soul, a single look was enough for him to know that she was his destiny.
No wonder he hadn’t been able to look away from her. She was always going to be the true north on his compass, and he would love her for his whole life and with his whole heart.
He had worried about letting her tie her heart to his, but they were tied now. He didn’t have to worry or wonder. It was almost a relief to know that he could just love her, because there would be no way to get himself to stop. They belonged with each other.
Except—
Except she wasn’t a shifter. She was looking at him now with nothing more than a beautiful, slightly sleepy smile, like she was still only half-awake.
He couldn’t ask too much from her, especially not right away, when she wasn’t even completely conscious. They could have this conversation once she was safe.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Right now, all that mattered was getting her warm again.
“Coop,” Gretchen whispered.
He brushed her cheek, relieved to see a little color creeping back into it. “I’m right here.”
“This is all I wanted.” She closed her eyes again. “Get you somewhere safe. Get you back to being you.”
“We’re safe, I promise. No one’s getting through that storm.”
“No one but you,” she said softly. “You’ll be fine, Coop.” She turned her head to press her lips against his fingers, and then consciousness seemed to smooth out of her face again. She’d slipped back out of consciousness again.
That worried him. All the hot soup and coffee in the world wouldn’t do her any good if she wasn’t going to be awake to drink it. He needed to get her body temperature back up, and his options were limited.
Seeing her so cold, pale, and still, like some kind of white marble statue, scared the hell out of him. She was supposed to be vibrant, thrumming with life and energy, crackling with intensity. This was almost like she was dead.
The thought made his chest tighten up.
He kicked off his shoes and slid behind her on the sofa, bracing her in the V of his open legs and cradling her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, willing as much of his body heat as possible to flow into her. Willing his life to flow into her, if necessary.
“Come on, Gretchen,” he said under his breath. “Come on, sweetheart. Come back to me.”
The motel owner returned, this time with a tray attached to his walker. Two bowls of soup rested on it, with steamed-up plastic lids keeping their contents from spilling as the movement jostled them around. Cooper would have admired the efficiency of it
