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His mood had still been volatile, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, not that I needed the reassurance, but my blade had confirmed it. So when he lifted me, put me in the bed, and climbed in with me, I didn’t fight him on it.

I had expected him to make some move, though. He hadn’t. No, he’d wrapped his arm around my waist, hauled me in close, and gone to sleep. And again, I’d let him do it because, yeah, I’d just watched him kill someone then threaten to do the same to anyone else who hurt me.

The “don’t fuck with me tonight, Willow,” vibes had been intense, to say the least, and for once, I’d heeded them.

But now it was morning and I needed to do one more walk of the perimeter. Then I was going home to check on my family. I didn’t like being away from them for too long, especially with Rose as unwell as she was.

Carefully, I wriggled out from under Warrick’s arm, grabbed my bag, and hit the bathroom. I dragged off the shirt I’d slept in and pulled up short when I got a look at myself in the mirror. I was bruised, the discoloration at my wrists and throat now darker, but the claw marks on my thighs had healed pretty well thanks to Warrick and his magic tongue. A zap of electricity forked through my lower belly, and I traced one of the faded red marks with my finger. They’d been deep gouges last night.

I glanced at the shower. I’d almost given in to him.

It was getting harder to resist, and considering what happened last night, that shouldn’t be the case. Sadly, seeing Warrick shirtless and covered in blood was not as unappealing a sight as it should be.

I wasn’t sure what kind of person that made me. Well, okay, probably just your typical Thornheart female. Another in a long line of women making terrible choices when it came to guys. But I didn’t plan on looking too closely at that. As long as I stayed away from hellhound poison in the future, there shouldn’t be any more reason for us to be naked in the shower with his mouth basically between my legs, or anywhere else for that matter.

Heat rushed through me.

Yep, that was my cue to get the hell out of here. I tugged on fresh jeans and was doing up my bra when Warrick walked in. He paused at the door as his gaze made a slow meandering tour of my body before locking with mine. Heat. So much heat in their depths. My reaction to that look was swift, tingles dancing over me. I ignored that as well.

“Do you mind? I’m getting dressed.”

“I saw you naked yesterday, twice.”

“You don’t barge in on someone in the bathroom. What if I was on the toilet?”

He shrugged.

“You have no boundaries, do you?”

He closed in on me and I found myself backed up to the counter. His thickly muscled arms bracketed me and he leaned in. “No, not when it comes to you. They don’t exist between a male and his female,” he said in a gravelly, sleep-roughened voice.

“I’m not your female.”

“Saying it over and over doesn’t change facts.”

I stared up at him, not sure what to say. “I don’t understand you.”

“You will, in time.”

I studied the harsh lines of his handsome face, so incredibly rough, masculine, not of this world. You couldn’t look at Warrick and not see he was more, more of everything. And I was starting to realize he truly meant every word of what he just said. I didn’t know what to do with that. “Why did you leave Hell?” I asked, the question out before I knew I was going to ask. I’d wondered often. I mean, I knew some of the reason, but not all of it.

He blinked down at me. I’d surprised him. “Lucifer left,” he said.

That was the part I knew. Lucifer enjoyed being above ground, and during one of his visits, his son, Diemos, had used some ancient magic to lock him out, setting off a whole shitty chain of events. “But why did you leave?”

“Diemos is a piece of shit. Lucifer created us, not his son. I didn’t owe him my loyalty, and he sure as fuck never tried to earn it.”

Diemos was most definitely a piece of shit, but Warrick had lived in Hell most of his life. “Do you miss it? Would you ever go back?”

“I don’t miss it. But I’d return if Lucifer asked it of me. My loyalty is first and foremost to my king. My creator. He comes before anyone.” His gaze dipped to the new thorny vines decorating my side, and then the tip of one long, thick finger dropped to trace it. Goose bumps lifted all over me. “Why are you out of bed?”

For some reason, I’d imagined him here, always. Still walking these tunnels long after I was gone. The thought of Warrick back in Hell, of never seeing or talking to him ever again—my belly clenched unhappily. “I need to do a final perimeter walk. I want the ward to be as strong as I can make it, then I’m going home to my family.”

The muscles in his arms flexed, and those golden eyes were eclipsed by deep red. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I’ve done all I can here.” And I needed to get back to figuring out my task, and how it involved the souls running free in Roxburgh.

His gaze locked with mine and the muscle in his jaw jumped again.