Selene had summoned Zephyr, even after he had warned her never to do it again. It had been a while since she did something like that, and Zephyr had forgotten how it felt to be instantly called and magnetically pulled by an undeniable soul-deep force.
He had been in the middle of his workout, alone in his large combat room, when it happened. That explained his appearance when he arrived—his shirt ripped, exposing his gleaming, hard chest and his biceps.
Selene's anger, which had been very palpable, froze when Zephyr stepped inside the room. It was like he took all the air from the room and left her unable to breathe.
Heat radiated from him, a living energy that cut through the room's chill. His skin gleamed from his interrupted workout, and the torn shirt hung open, revealing the hard, sculpted planes of his chest and stomach that flexed with each controlled breath.
