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Holy wings and wicked tempting things, he’s naked, and whoever carved him spared no detail when sculpting his ass. I almost ask him to stay put exactly like that so I can admire each curve and line. Except he strides into the shower, slips beneath the spray, and I can’t breathe. I’ve bathed male bodies, dressed them, cared for them, but never have I seen one that looks like this. Jace has no body hair so I have a full view of an erection so thick that I wonder how it fit in those pants, and still that’s not what has me gaping. He has grooves carved along his shaft in the shape of a spiral—a freakin’ spiral of awesome in deep hues of blue and purple.
I need a closer look. For scientific purposes, of course. I mean, I flunked out of nursing school, but if anatomy class had covered this, I might’ve aced it. The shower has tall glass walls with the sprays mounted on the far side at multiple heights. What it doesn’t have is a door.
I scoot off the counter, figuring if he’d wanted privacy, he would’ve asked for it. He certainly wouldn’t be sudsing up with a stroke of his erection that screams look this way. I tiptoe toward him, dragging the blanket behind me.
“Careful where you step.” His voice cracks out like a whip, something I would’ve expected from Atticus, not Jace.
I freeze, caught like the voyeur I am.
He lifts his chin, gesturing toward the pants he left on the floor. “We can’t risk wyvern venom touching your skin.” His admonition comes out softer this time. “I like you all in one perfect piece.” My teasing gargoyle returns, and my heart bumps in response.
I pretend I’d been staring at his face the whole time, moving closer while tugging the blanket up and away from the scary, flesh-eating, pothole-making poison. Nerves overtake me, and a fluttering floods through me as though someone unleashed an entire flock of tiny gargoyles in my belly. Flock. Swarm. Swarm. Ugh, that word gave me so much trouble in school with its weird sound combos, and now I’m rambling in my own head, a blush is creeping over my skin, and I’ve completely lost my courage.
“The poison didn’t burn you?” I stammer the question.
“Protective gear.” He slicks his wet hair back, and my gaze immediately follows the path of the water tracing along his shoulders and farther down. “The same as your training and trial clothes will be.”
“Oh.” I’ve run out of babble, and his mention of the trials doesn’t make me as anxious as the awkwardness of not knowing what to do next.
“Come here,” Jace says. His claw snakes out to snag around my wrist, and he tugs me forward, the blanket falling away. I stumble over the step and into the shower, almost crashing into him when he catches me and pulls me to his side.
OMG, OMG, I’m naked next to a naked gargoyle. My thoughts fly in a thousand directions.
“Hi,” he says, sounding as shaken as I feel. Okay, that’s reassuring instead of overwhelming. Maybe he craves comfort and connection as much as I do.
His claws smooth over my back in a steady, slow rhythm. The roughness of them doesn’t match the gentleness of his touch. He’s warm, and I melt against him. All the fear from earlier seems so distant with him touching me. Or Atticus carrying me. I don’t know how I feel about that. Worse, I have no idea how Jace feels about me snuggling up to him.
I glance up, searching for clues. His silvery blue eyes hold my gaze, but there’s no pupils, no human-ish signals covered in my psych courses to check if he’s as crazy turned on as I am. He hugs me closer, and his erection bumps against me. There’s the huge—and I do mean huge—sign of arousal.
He leans closer, his nose touching my temple. “Tell me that I’m not imagining it.”
“Imagining what?”
“Your scent says you want me too. The way I want you.”
Heat floods my face. “You sniffed me.”
“Well, yeah, isn’t that how humans?—”
“No.” The absurdity of people going around sniffing for hints of attraction like a giant dating app of perfumes hits me, and I groan. Then I giggle. I can’t help it, and apparently I can’t stop. I’m clinging to my gargoyle with my forehead pressed to the tattoo on his chest while laughing at how much easier life might be if I hadn’t had to master deciphering people’s expressions at an early age for a hint of how to act. Sniffing would’ve been so much easier. . .and more complicated.
Except Jace tenses beneath my touch.
“No, we don’t sniff each other,” I clarify. The rest of what he says catches up. He wants me. This gargoyle who has watched me, treats me like I’m delicate, and seems happy to do whatever would make me smile—he’s into me. “But yeah, I feel the same.”
His chest grows even more massive as if he’s puffing up with pride, the wings of his tattoo spreading ever so slightly to match his own. “Good.” His voice has gone rough. “I’ll wash you, and then you can have your bath while Atticus cleans himself for the ritual. If you still wish for the runes.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t push me to say yes. No, he waits for me to agree in my own time.
His concern for my desires, my wishes, my consent to each step—they matter. I nod. “Yes to all of that.”
“No one took care of you in your realm.”
“They did…” When he gives me a knowing look, I stop my explanation.
“Let us take care of you.” His voice still comes through strong and deep, the reassuring anchor in a storm of strange, but a thread of pleading tugs at my defenses.
I could insist on being an independent woman who doesn’t need anyone to look after her. Yet the idea of someone who wants to make sure I’m okay the way I’ve spent my life putting others needs ahead of mine? It’s intoxicating. I nod, unsure I can trust myself to put a fraction of that drugging need into words.
He twists open a shampoo that smells like herbs, berries, and the twins. “Then tip your head back, love, so I can get my claws in those strands.”
