ELIA
Elia stared at the broad arm he offered and swallowed. There was a set of white, jagged lines across his forearm as if some beast had swiped him with claws. His shoulder topped her head, and his chest was so broad—not to mention bare under the open vest—that she couldn't see past him when he stood in front of her.
He was huge and scarred and… feral.
If he was truly a protector, she would be safe from anything. But if his words couldn't be trusted… They stared at each other, and he shifted once, a breath of wind bringing her the scent of pine and rain and something uniquely him—and yet somehow familiar, though that was impossible.
He took one look over her shoulder, then nudged his offered arm closer, with a pointed look. Others must be noticing. Elia took a deep breath and reminded herself that if she was dying tonight anyway, it would be better to die touching him than that fur-painted woman.
