Page 49 of Vengeance of the Gods

Vega glanced down at herself, covered in his blood. Bridger had splatters across his face and on his hands. “Clean up,” she demanded, pointing to the sink as she turned the water to the shower on again.

She didn’t wait for it to warm up before getting in. Vega watched the water turn red around her feet, slowly swirling down the drain.

Her ears rang, and she never heard Bridger speaking until he—fully clothed except for the boots he kicked off—got into the shower with her.

Shit, how long has he been talking?

“You’re in shock,” Bridger said softly, his wet pants clinging to his muscular legs. He reached out gently, pushing Vega’s hair out of her face.

She wanted to be mad, pissed—wanted to throw Bridger out of this fucking shower, remind him not to touch her, but everything felt heavy.

Her body, her mind.

The color of the water faded to a light pink.

I almost died.

The searing pain around her brand made that clear.

How the fuck—how?

“Baby—Vega.” Bridger corrected himself, his touch featherlight under her jaw. “Look at me.”

Vega had a hard time focusing, but Bridger came into view, and she couldn’t stop the need to be touched—to be held. She needed to feel alive. Bridger can make me feel alive. Taking the smallest step, Vega pressed herself against him, resting her head against his chest.

The rhythm of his heartbeat was steady against her ear.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her. Bridger’s chest vibrated with his words. “Tell me something real.”

Real.

This was real.

I almost died.

Chase had almost killed her.

How? What was⁠—

“Come on, Vega. Let me inside that pretty little head of yours.”

She knew he was doing it to distract her from the panic, to pull her out of the dangerous landslide of emotions that came after almost dying.

“Um,” she finally said, trying to find words. “I had a cat once.” Vega hadn’t thought about that cute black furball in ages. “I named her Sushi.” She didn’t have the energy to elaborate much, but the memory gave her something else to grasp at.

“Not the pussy I thought we’d be talking about in the shower, but go on.” Bridger stroked the back of her head, sending a soothing warmth shooting through her bloodstream.

“You did not just say that with a corpse less than five feet away.”

She felt Bridger shrug, but she hadn’t opened her eyes and certainly hadn’t unwrapped herself from him yet. “Oh, a dead body? Hadn’t noticed it.”

Their banter worked, giving Vega the time she needed to recover. “What are we doing, Bridger?” she asked so quietly she thought he might not hear her.

“We’re making sure you don’t crash out in this grimy tub,” he answered factually.

Vega inhaled deep, breathing in the scent of his wet clothes. Pine and citrus. He’d always smelled like that. “I mean, what are we doing?” she asked again but this time with a different inflection.

The only sound was the water running, time standing still, until Bridger broke it with his response. “I don’t know.”