ASHER
At an agonizingly slow pace, I made my way through the press of bodies crammed into the house, everyone talking at once—cops asking the witches questions about our captors, EMTs admonishing them to back off, the witches trying to reach their loved ones on the few phones being passed around. It took some maneuvering and far more patience than I typically had, but I finally found my way to the back of the house. To Gray.
She was sitting in the bathtub in her pants and a bra, knees drawn to her chest, arms curled protectively around herself as the shower water beat down incessantly. She hadn’t even bothered to close the door all the way.
The hellhounds—Sparkle and Sunshine, I’d been told—stood guard outside, but lucky for me, they gave me a quick sniff and let me pass.
Promising them I’d take good care of her, I stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door tight behind me. Through clouds of steam, Gray sat motionless, bra hanging half off her shoulder like she’d started to take it off but gave up halfway through. The hot, pounding water was turning the skin on her arms and chest bright red.
“Gray?” I asked softly.
She glanced up briefly and nodded, barely acknowledging my presence. When I didn’t say anything else, she looked down again, staring blankly at her knees.
Pain emanated from every inch of her skin. Her limp, blood-caked hair hung in matted locks around her face.
“Are the witches okay?” she finally mumbled.
“Damn straight. They’re a strong fucking bunch, those witches.”
Half of her mouth curved into a smile, but it fell just as quickly. “Any word from—”
“They’ll be here, Gray,” I said, knowing she meant Ronan and Emilio. “Give them time.”
She pressed her forehead to her knee, her shoulders trembling. I could tell she was working overtime to keep her voice steady. “It feels like Emilio and I just found each other, and now…” She trailed off, her words like an anchor around my heart.
Not because I was jealous. Because I didn’t know how to make it better for her.
There were a million things Iwantedto say, and a million more I probablyshould’ve, but all of them felt big and dumb in my mouth. So instead of forcing it, I went for the diversion, kneeling down beside the tub and tugging on one of her matted curls.
“I realize I’m way out of practice at the moment,” I said, “as I’m sure you can tell by my just-sprung-from-prison, don’t-remember-what-soap-looks-like scent. But I’mprettysure you’re doing this whole shower thing wrong.”
My attempt at humor fell flat. Gray lifted a shoulder in a gesture that barely qualified as a shrug, her bra strap sliding the rest of the way down. “I couldn’t figure out the shower head. I wanted to change the pressure, but it wouldn’t turn, and I just… I just kind of climbed in here and sat down. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here.”
I got to my feet. “Okay if I join you?”
“Be my guest. I’m betting we smell the same right now anyway.”
“Ahh, you’d lose that bet, Cupcake.” Her scent had always driven me wild. Not even the stench of dirt and sweat and smoke and blood could change that. “I hope you don’t mind if I disrobe for this one. I know how much you love a man in camo.”
This—finally—got a smile.
Returning it, I stepped into the tub, trying not to wince. Motherfucker, that water was hotter than Sebastian’s balls—at least, what I imagined the Prince of Hell’s ball temperature to be, which I’d admittedly never done before that moment and would hopefully never do again.
Shielding Gray from the lava-water, I helped her to her feet, then fucked around with the ancient shower head until I got things to a more tolerable pressure and temperature.
“Better?” I asked, maneuvering her beneath the spray.
“Mmm.” She tilted her head back to rinse her hair, exposing the pale expanse of her neck and throat. I reached up and stroked her, my thumb tracing her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, slowly working over to her shoulder. Her bra finally gave up and dropped away, and holyfuck, I wanted to kiss her. To bite her. To suck on every inch of her until she melted with pleasure and forgot every last one of her worries, just for a little while.
It wasn’t long before she finally ditched her remaining clothes. She tossed them unceremoniously into the corner of the tub, then stood on her toes and looped her arms around my neck.
Her full body pressed against mine, skin on skin, warm and slick, making me instantly hard. I felt the pulse of her magic, calling to me, strengthening me, just like it had in the prison. The incubus part of me wanted nothing more than to bury myself between her thighs, but the man in me just wanted to feel her. To hold her close.
For now, the man was winning out.
Barely.
Ignoring the ache in my balls, I wrapped my arms around her and held tight, my chin resting on the top of her head as the water ran down our bare bodies and washed away the evidence of tonight’s battle. The water swirled black and red down the drain, tinged with blood.
