Page 50 of Shadowed Bond

I let out a rough laugh because fuck, she has no idea. “You’re standing there in an itty-bitty towel, Princess. And you expect me to look at your face? Even if it is pretty as fuck?”

Her lips curl into a faint smile at the compliment, but she still manages to look offended, which is impressive. “You are shameless,” she says.

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

“So why did you come?”

“To check up on you,” I say as she walks over to the vanity table. My gaze travels over her legs.

“As you can see, I’m good. You should leave.”

“If you really want me to leave, then you need to say it like you mean it,” I say quietly.

She pauses, her fingers inches from a hairbrush, but she doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t turn towards me either, her chest rising and falling far more rapidly now.

I’m not good at fancy words and shit, so if she’s expecting me to come out with some poetic shit, she’s got the wrong Westwood.

But she hasn’t told me to leave. I walk closer to her, her heart giving her away, and I almost smirk. I reach her, and she turns to look up at me, her hair sliding over her shoulder, and my attention falls to a dark bruise near her shoulder. Something irritatingly irrational rips through me, and my eyes darken as I reach for her, brushing her hair back fully.

“That one hasn’t gone? Does it still hurt?” I ask, jaw clenched.

“Barely,” she replies, almost amused at my reaction.

“Then why is it still there?”

“Because bruises do not vanish simply because you glare at them,” she retorts. “I’m weakened; it’s going to take time.”

“That’s fucking annoying,” I growl.

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it, so stop growling,” she says.

I hate that it’s still there. I brush my fingers over it gently, and that seems to make her look a little less hostile. “Really. I’m fine,” she adds softly, as if realising I might just care.

And ok, yeah, I do, but I ain’t going to keep shouting it from the rooftops. I’ve told her once; that’s enough.

She inhales softly, and I’m far too aware of it, of her heartbeat, her breathing, the tiny way she swallows, trying to remain in control.

“You’re too quiet… That’s weird, even for you, Ares…” she says, her blush deepening; it mirrors the one at the hospital after we spent a few minutes kissing, until a nurse interrupted. No one leaves us the fuck alone.

“What do I say? That I did a shitty job at keeping you safe?” I ask quietly. I wish I could take the words back; they’re a tad too honest for me.

But she doesn’t tease me; instead, she turns fully towards me. “It was not your duty to protect me; we were working as a team… and yet you did. It’s just a bruise, Ares,” she says, placing her hand on my bicep, her eyes softening.

“Careful,” I warn, voice rough. “You really shouldn’t look at me like that if you want me to behave.”

Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t move away; her heart thunders as she slowly moves closer, one hand still clutching her towel. My hand travels from her shoulder up her neck, my thumb brushing along the centre, feeling her swallow beneath it.

“Maybe I don’t want you to behave then,” she replies with that same controlled confidence of hers.

“Oh yeah? Although your brother is somewhere in this mansion?” I murmur with a smirk.

She shrugs. “He’ll probably just try to zap you with lightning.”

“And you’ll let him?” I smirk, my finger still brushing along the centre of her neck.

“Maybe? I mean, you can defend yourself, right, big boy?” She looks at me with a spark in her eyes, even though her heart is pounding. My finger travels up her jaw and across her bottom lip.

“Yeah, just don’t complain if I end up hurting him,” I murmur as she wraps her lips around my thumb for a moment.