Page 97 of Blood and Trouble

“I’m okay,” I said. “Honestly, I feel much better.”

“I wasn’t asking.” He kissed the space between my eyebrows before turning me toward the tub and patting me on the butt. “Let’s go.”

He stripped down and climbed into the tiny shower behind me. Compared to the cabin in Copenhagen, this was practically palatial. But there wasn’t much room for both of us, and we bumped elbows while he scrubbed me down and rubbed shampoo into my hair.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” I said. “For saving me.”

I remembered the feral look in his eyes when he’d seen me go down, how all traces of his humanity faded before he killed those vampires. He was terrifying, and he’d done it to protect me from it.

“Ava, you’re my mate,” he said. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“All the same.” I turned in his hold, pressing my body to his chest so I could nuzzle under his chin. He hugged me, and the warmth from his overheated skin seeped through my pores to my bones. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“We survived,” he said. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you, so we’re not going down that road.”

I tilted my head up to look at him, really look at him, and I noticed the lines of stress between his brows, the tight set of his lips. Perhaps to reassure him he hadn’t lost anything today, I pushed up on my toes and kissed him, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him in. He pressed his hard chest against mine, skin to skin from torso to hips to toes, and the thick scent of his arousal plumed between us—bonding and male and pheromones.

I smiled into the embrace, licking into his mouth, twisting my fingers into his hair to grip it tighter.

“How much longer are you two—” Lycan’s voice slammed the brakes on what was sure to escalate into full-blown shower sex. He paused on the other side of the glass door, glancing between us. His jaw clenched shut. His eyes glowed. “Finish up. Get out. Meet me in the bedroom.”

Lycan walked away, and I glanced up at Poe, whose own eyes radiated a mixture of wolf and shame. He looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the honey jar, his cheeks flushed, his lips thin, his mouth open.

“Uh-oh,” I teased. “I guess we’re in trouble.”

A glimmer of his internal dialogue snuck into my mind.

“You think this is funny?” Poe asked.

I pursed my lips and tried to hide a smile. “A little.”

He scoffed and turned off the water before opening the door to step out. He grabbed a towel and held it out so he could wrap it around my shoulders when I followed him. I tried to hide my girlish delight as he rubbed my arms and dropped to his knees so he could dry my legs. Once he was satisfied, he did the same to his own body, wrapping his towel around his waist and cinching it in the middle.

I grabbed his hand, took a deep breath, and walked into the bedroom, preparing myself against what we might find there. Would Lycan throw a tantrum? Would he punish us in his own dark, twisted way? I couldn’t handle a spanking right now. Even if I felt better, I wasn’t fully healed, and I didn’t want to risk Lycan reopening my wound during the heat of a scene and feeling terrible about it afterward.

My husband had pulled an accent chair to the left corner at the end of the bed, currently sitting in it with his legs spread and one hand propped under his chin, his fingers brushing delicately over his lips. He dropped his gaze to our linked palms before shifting back up to my eyes.

“On the bed.” He nodded toward the mattress.

“Lycan,” Poe started.

“Shut up,” Lycan snapped, and I tightened my grip around Poe’s fingers. “I didn’t say you could speak.”

“What are you doing?” Poe straightened and stuck out his chin, firmly rooted to the spot.

“Whatever the fuck I want,” Lycan said. “Isn’t that what you do, my little poet? Whatever you feel like and fuck the consequences?”

“Lycan—” Poe tried again, but Lycan stood and stalked closer. Slowly. Calmly. Like an animal who’d play with his food long after it was exhausted. When he was inches away from us, he shifted his attention to me.

“Get on the bed, pet,” he said.

The use of his honorific told me he wanted a scene, and maybe it was some strange Pavlovian response, or maybe I was just curious about where this was going, but I dropped Poe’s hand and shuffled to the mattress to crawl on top of it. I sat back on my heels and turned to my two men while they faced off in front of the bathroom.

Poe stuck his tongue in his cheek and side-eyed my quick submission. “Traitor.”

“Don’t look at her.” Lycan grabbed Poe by the jaw and forced his focus on him. “Look at me.”

“Why are you doing this?” Poe said. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”