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Amora
The bean shuckingladies sure know how to cook a meal, and I devour every bit of it while hashing out plans for tackling our meeting with Felicity tomorrow.
But even as I listen to Malix and argue with Kian, Frost’s silence worries me.
Once the meal is finished, I polish off my second bottle of water, watching him as he quietly cleans up the remnants of our meal. He spoke up a few times during our conversation, but there’s definitely a kind of quiet exhaustion to him that I don’t remember being there before. I don’t know if it’s just the result of the fact we traveled all the way here on foot while he battled the shadows, or if Felicity’s little shadow voodoo did something to him.
Frost stacks his plate on top of mine, then does the same with Malix’s plate and Kian’s. “Anyone mind if I take first shower?” he asks.
Kian slumps in his armchair, legs spread and what’s probably his fifth bottle of water perched on his knee. “Go for it.”
Malix hops to his feet and takes the stack of dishes from Frost. “I’ll take care of these. Go wash up.”
Frost glides across the room in his usual unobtrusive way, then vanishes through the bathroom door. Malix carries the plates to the sink and turns on the water before bending down to dig for soap beneath the counter.
I glance at Kian to find that he’s laid his head back on the cushions and closed his eyes.
The shower cranks on in the bathroom, and I can hear the soft sound of water drumming into the tub like a light rainfall.
Tossing aside my empty water bottle, I get up and follow Frost to the bathroom. Neither Kian nor Malix comment, or even react to me moving, and I don’t offer up an explanation. I’m sure they’ve noticed the decline in his energy too, and I get the sense that they approve of me going to check on him.
Crazy. I never thought I could have entire conversations without saying a word.
I turn the rickety knob on the bathroom door, thankful that Frost didn’t lock it.
Steam is already filling up the tiny room. A single bulb over the basin sink hardly gives off enough light to penetrate all four corners, and the toilet is tucked into such a small space between the sink and wall that there’s no way a normal sized man could sit for a shit.
Stepping inside, I pull the door closed behind me.
The dark blue shower curtain rattles, and Frost’s face appears around the edge. His pale hair is slicked back wetly, putting the sharp angles of his Nordic features on display. Water drips down his face and neck, and my gaze follows the glistening strands as far as it can—which isn’t far, considering only his head and one shoulder are visible.
Too bad.
“What are you doing in here?” he asks, cocking his head inquisitively.
I lean against the sink, going for nonchalant even though I know he can sense my worry. “I just wanted to see how you’re feeling.”
He blinks those startling blue eyes at me. “I’m all right.”
“Are you really?” I press.
“I feel… strange,” he admits. “But better. I swear.”
Someone else might not have noticed the things he isn’t saying.
Someone who didn’t have a special bond with him wouldn’t hear the strained edge that he almost manages to conceal in his tone, but not quite.
All the things he’s not saying are just as important as his assurances he’s fine, because really, I think he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince me. Frost keeps so much inside, internalizing every emotion, keeping his exterior as blank as stone and as cold as ice. And it makes sense that he does that. All three of these men do it in their own way, and it likely has everything to do with being raised by a damn psychopath.
But emotions don’t cease to exist just because you can’t articulate them.
I straighten and tug the giant t-shirt off over my head, then step out of the soft cotton shorts that barely cling to my hips.
Frost doesn’t move. His pupils dilate as his gaze rakes over my naked body, the dark pools expanding within the crystal blue of his irises. We’ve spent a lot of time naked around each other on our travels, and we all just sat naked in the cafeteria as Felicity worked her shadow magic on him.
But this is different.
Because this time, I’m naked with intent.
Something crackles in the air between us, and when I reach to open the curtain, he releases it and steps back to make room for me in the bathtub. The steam grows thicker as I climb over the rim of the tub to join him. I slide the curtain back into place, trapping all that good heat in our little bubble, then turn to face him.
He pulls me into his arms without a word. The water has warmed his skin, and the moment he envelops me, his heat chases away any cold I might have felt. He clings to me, holding me so tightly I couldn’t move away even if I wanted to.
But I don’t want to.
Clearly, his impulse to be close to me hasn’t faded, and I don’t mind it one bit. I latch my fingers behind his neck as the water beats down on my arms.
Neither of us moves for some time. His flesh is satiny smooth against mine, and the water trickling between us only heightens the sensation of skin against skin. I tangle my fingers in his hair and breathe in his intoxicatingly spicy scent, which is so at odds with his name.
Finally, I break the comfortable silence to ask, “How’s the pain?”
Frost’s hands open on my back, and he trails his palms up and down my spine with slow, measured movements. “More present now. Not overwhelming. Not like before,” he assures me when my entire body tenses at the revelation. “A bit more intense than my ‘normal’ level of pain. Prior to Quinton’s attack. But it’s a pain I can live with.”
My lips press together as I try to get ahold of the anger that rises up in me—a protective fury at the entire world on Frost’s behalf. “You shouldn’t have to live with it, though. You shouldn’t have to get used to just carrying that pain around.”
He makes a little noise in his throat that’s almost a chuckle. “It’s all right. I can live with a lot of things.” He hesitates, then adds in a quiet voice, “There’s only one thing I can’t live without.”
My eyes widen a little, and I blink droplets of water out of my eyelashes as I slide my chin over the soft skin of his shoulder. The warm spray of the shower splashes on my face, grounding me in this moment. I can even feel his heartbeat against mine, and I’m so thankful for that strong, sure sound.
“What is it?” I murmur. “What can’t you live without?”
“You.”
The honesty in his voice makes my breath catch.
I draw back—not enough to break our full body contact, but enough so that I can see his beautiful face. It’s still neutral and mask-like, the way it is most of the time, but I’ve reached a point where I don’t think that matters. I can read him despite that. I’m more attuned to his emotions than ever before, and I’ve come to recognize the micro-expressions he can’t hide from someone who truly knows him.
I untangle my fingers from his hair and slide my hands back around his shoulders to cup his face. My heart flutters, and my words are barely a whisper.
“I’m not sure I could live without you either.”
It’s the truth. Maybe the strongest truth I’ve ever spoken aloud. I probably wouldn’t have the guts to say it to anyone but Frost—not to Kian, and not even to Malix. But this man disarms me in a way no one else can.
He makes me feel desired. Needed. Safe.
