I am fucking doing it.
Nodding at myself, I strip down and step into the shower. I keep the water cold. I’m not trying to punish myself, but comfortis as dangerous as pain. Both tear down my guard, and I need my walls intact. My teeth may be chattering, but I can’t afford any breakdowns until I know Malach is safe. From my itchy back to my pounding heart, every instinct is screaming at me, telling me there’s no time to waste.
I won’t let him down. Not this time.
After stumbling through my cold shower as quickly as possible, I turn the water off and wrap myself in one of the scratchy towels.
I’m massaging hotel lotion into the dark circles under my eyes when someone knocks. The sound is too tentative to be Alistair or Ciprian. They would pound on the door, rushing in headlong even if they regretted it afterward. Which leaves Luca or Riven. Since I can’t feel much coming through the bond, I’m pretty sure I know who’s on the other side of the door.
I steel myself and open it, fingers slipping over the cold metal handle. Riven stands on the threshold, slouched and painfully unsure of himself.
Ignoring him, I grab another towel and wipe the lotion residue off the doorknob.
My skin pebbles as he watches me, his eyes raking over my exposed skin with an intensity I would be better off ignoring.
He’s here to tell me he changed his mind. That he doesn’t want to come with me to hunt gateways after all. I’m prepared; I can take it. There’s no reason to show him my disappointment. I’ve already made a fool out of myself over him enough to last a lifetime.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Riven says softly.
My skin heats, fury chasing away the lingering chill from the cold shower.
Godsdammit, that’s the last thing I wanted to hear.
NINETEEN
Excerpt from the Veydran Code of Conduct:
You are a mask. Nothing more. Nothing less.
RIVEN
The tired, dull cloud in her eyes vanishes, consumed by fury.
Celine hasn’t aimed this much anger my way since the monster realm. Barefoot and barefaced, half-covered with an insubstantial towel, she’s terrifying.
I stifle the sudden urge to run.
She crosses her arms, a limp hand towel dangling from her fingertips. “Do I look like my feelings are hurt?”
“That’s a trick question, bro. Tread carefully,” Ciprian shouts.
Her scowl grows, and I wince. I don’t need his help. At least, I don’t think I do. “Stay out of this, Ciprian,” she snarls, narrowing her eyes when the crazy demon cackles in response.
Celine grabs the front of my shirt and yanks me into the bathroom before slamming the door behind me. I keep my hands at my sides. Maybe I hurt her feelings and maybe I didn’t,but in her current mood, if my phrasing isn’t exactly right, Celine will be happy to argue about it.
“Was there anything else you wanted to say?” She drops her fingers from my chest only to tug at the hem of my shirt. It’s helplessly creased, and as soon as she lets go, the fabric wrinkles again. Frowning, she reaches into the shower, turns the water all the way hot, and waits in silence as steam fills the room, swirling around us both.
Celine pulls down on my shirt again, holding it for a few seconds. Her knuckles graze my hips when she lets go. The stubborn wrinkles stay put.
“I need this,” she mutters, tugging on my sleeve. “Give it to me.”
My heart thuds. She’s distracted, focused entirely on the damned shirt, and I couldn’t be more relieved. Her preoccupation gives me time to think, even though I’m terrified for her to see me shirtless.Don’t be a coward.
Slowly, I work the shirt over my head and hold it out as a peace offering.
She snatches it from me without giving me a second glance and takes it closer to the shower to resume working on the wrinkles.
Water pounds against the shower floor. The steam is thick enough to taste. I wait patiently, a dangerous tenderness building inside me as I watch her fuss over my shirt.
