So I kept my hands steady and practical. A soft hoodie—safe, warm, the kind you pull on during long nights under the stars. Pajama bottoms that looked like comfort itself. And plain cotton underwear, nothing flashy, nothing that would make her feel exposed.
I folded them, neat and deliberate, and turned back toward the bathroom. My mate was still there, wrapped in her soaked towel, shaking. Still here. Still fighting.
“Got you,” I murmured as I stepped back in, voice more vow than observation.
She flinched when I moved closer, but didn’t stop me when I crouched down, another towel in hand. Slowly, carefully, I lifted her out of the spray and into my arms. Bridal-style, like she was something I could carry out of every storm she’d ever faced. She was staring at me, those big brown eyes b
