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I blink slowly in acknowledgment.
Sharpe’s hand cups under my chin, lifting me higher out of the water. “You’re a firebird, not a mermaid. No drowning.”
I lean my head against the side of the tub and let it roll backward, away from the tempting warmth of the water.
Both men still look worried.
“I’m an immortal being,” I remind them. “Go get me food.”
“Marc’s fast in the shower.” Flint heads for the door. “He won’t leave her alone too long.”
“Yes, send my babysitter with coffee,” I call after them as they leave.
As soon as the door shuts, I sink below the surface of the water, relishing the stinging burn against my skin.
The water around me turns cloudy from the mud on my body and in my hair, and I pull the plug to drain the tub before refilling it again, adding the honey-and-cardamon bath oil that Flint gifted me for Christmas.
Then I lean back and close my eyes, soaking in the perfumed warmth of the bath.
The sound of the door opening rouses me from a half-sleep, and I crack my eyelids open to see Marc peeking inside.
After our shared moment in the cave, I half expected Darius to be the one who came to check on me, and I tamp down the disappointment that he didn’t want to continue what we started earlier. With my body now warm, other desires are stirring from the near-death experience.
I shift in the bath and notice that the water is no longer scorching hot. “I’m still alive.”
“And likely wrinkly, too.” Amusement fills Marc’s voice. “The fire is roaring, if you’d like to switch to a less liquid warmth.”
Warmth from the fire isn’t the only thing I want, and I lift my arms. “Help me.”
Chuckling, he pushes the door wider and steps inside. He had opted to change directly into his pajamas, a set of neon blue fleece with green aliens scattered amid stars.
I have a matching set in my dresser, as does Flint, but Sharpe is still building up his collection.
As Marc lifts me from the bathtub, I pluck at his sleeve. “Darius needs some pajamas.”
Marc freezes for a second before he laughs. “There’s no way he’d wear them.”
“But I think he’d like them, regardless,” I insist. “It’s the thought behind them that counts.”
“You’re right,” he says gruffly, leaning past me to grab my robe and wrap it around my shoulders. “We’ll get him some for Cinco de Mayo.”
My eyes widen with ideas. “They can have cactuses and sombreros on them.”
“He’ll hate that,” Marc says, and we grin at each other.
He grabs a towel and pats my hair to absorb some of the water before scooping me up into his arms.
Laughing, I throw my arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Your feet are bare.” He sidesteps through the open door and strides down the hall toward the living room. “We can’t have your precious toes getting cold, or you might stick them into the fire.”
I nuzzle my face against his neck. “You could have grabbed me socks.”
“But then you wouldn’t be clinging to me right now,” he drawls in a way that sends warmth simmering in my stomach.
“Oh, you like me clingy, cowboy?” I nibble his ear, and his hold on me tightens. “If you want my arms around you, all you have to do is ask.”
He turns his head toward mine. “Kiss me.”
