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I watch him as the rag brushes over my thighs. The water sprays down from above, washing away the lingering anxiety that clings to the edge of my mind. But his presence is doing the same thing. He’s so beautiful it tugs at my heartstrings, and the way he’s taking care of me, respecting me even as his body begs for more, makes him even more handsome. He’s a good man.
So damn good.
“Why didn’t you run away?” I ask suddenly. My voice startles both of us in the silence. “Why didn’t you run like Dare? You’ve got just as much reason to hate me as he does.”
Witches may have killed Dare’s pack, but they also abducted Archer when he was a boy, torturing him and hurting him. He’s lucky to be alive today, and during our time together, I’ve seen just how he’s had to cope with his fears and anxiety over what happened to him. Me turning out to be a witch is a much bigger, more personal deal to Dare and Archer than it could be for Ridge or Trystan.
But Archer didn’t leave me.
He stayed.
The blond man straightens, then puts the rag down on the soap tray and takes my face between his hands. For a wild moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to, but he just tilts my head back beneath the spray to soak my hair. A thoughtful look settles over his face as he pours shampoo into his hands, lathers, and then slides his fingers into my wet locks.
As he works the soap into my scalp, he finally answers. “Dare and I are vastly different people, and our situations are very different too. I think he partially blames himself for what happened to his pack, even though none of it was his fault. He’s lived with that guilt for so long, and he’s sat with his pain for way too long without finding a way to deal with it. That changes a person. Closes them off to everything.”
I can understand that. Even in the midst of my awful life at Uncle Clint’s, I found every way possible to cope with what was happening. That was how showers became a foundation for me, somewhere I could breathe through the panic and find myself again.
“I think Dare feels like he deserves nothing better than complete solitude,” Archer says. “He lost his pack. He lost the people he loved most in the world. He’s never said as much to me, but I think he feels like loneliness is his penance. So getting close to someone? Falling for someone? It was probably a lot for him to handle even before your transition. And then seeing you like that? It wasn’t easy for any of us, but I think it hit him the hardest.”
“I hate that this happened.” I swallow, trying to force down the emotions rising in my throat. “All of it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Archer’s voice is serious. “You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t choose it. And no matter what happens, I’ll always be grateful for whatever luck of fate brought you into our lives.”
His hands move lower to my neck, and he tilts my head back again to rinse my hair. I close my eyes, reaching up to hold on to his wrists as suds and water wash away down my skin. After a few moments, he gently straightens me and smiles, his thumb tracing a path down my cheek.
“Nothing will ever change how I feel about you, Sable,” he says, his gaze moving over my face. “I don’t see a witch when I look at you. I just see you.”
4
Sable
Archer’s words hit me right in my chest, and my heart beats a little faster. He’s so earnest, so open as he gazes down at me, nothing but truth in his eyes.
I just see you.
Not the witch I’ve become, but the Sable he already knew. The girl he spent the past few weeks getting to know, the girl he thought was his mate. Maybe he even still hopes I could be his mate—that the bond will choose him over the others.
The honesty in his statement sends warmth cascading through me. Acceptance isn’t something I’m used to, even though all these shifter men have made me feel welcome every moment since I arrived in their world. Well… mostly. Ridge’s brother Lawson is a notable exception.
But their kindness has been a new feeling in my life, something vibrant and all-encompassing. My uncle never missed a chance to reject me or tell me I didn’t deserve to live, and I carry that negativity with me everywhere I go. But right here, right now, this is real acceptance. No strings attached.
It makes me feel stronger, but even more vulnerable at the same time. Archer has no idea how much it means to me.
I want to tell him, but I’m afraid of what his reaction might be. Sure, he says he’s my mate, but things have changed now. What if I bring up my feelings and he backtracks? He was tortured by witches, after all, so no matter how sweet and kind he is, the fact that I’m a witch will always be there between us. I don’t know how someone hurt so badly by witches could look past that magic boiling beneath my skin. Especially when that magic makes itself seen through the marks on my body.
I can’t hide it. Not from him. Not from the other shifters. Not even from myself.
Archer is even more gorgeous with the steam from the shower making his golden skin a little darker, and his wide green eyes a little brighter. His cheeks are flushed from the heat and his blond hair curls wetly against his forehead. His good looks are so damn wholesome—a funny word to use when we’re standing less than a foot apart, both of us naked.
There’s nothing wholesome about the way he makes heat roar through my veins.
He smiles at me as his fingers work the rest of the soap out of my hair, even though I’m sure it’s already gone. His fingertips massaging against my scalp send tingles down my neck and across my skin. I don’t want him to stop touching me. I want his chaste ministrations to turn heated and primal. I want his hands to move lower.
I want him.
Before I can think too much about it or talk myself out of it, I lean into him and press my lips to his.
The moment our lips touch, I’m paralyzed by fear. What if he rejects me? But I know I’m being ridiculous and falling back into my old habits of panic and expecting the worst. Not even five minutes ago, Archer assured me all he
