by Sarah Piper
“That she is.” I finished off the chicken and rose from my chair, overwhelmed with the sudden need to be close to Gray. To hold her, to take in her scent, to taste the sweetness of her kiss. “Speaking of which, I should probably go check on her. And you badasses need to eat. No more nibbling like mice, unless you want the EMTs to put you on an IV drip.”
“Hard pass,” Haley said, reaching for a plate and a slice of veggie pizza. Her skin was a couple of shades warmer than it had been a few minutes ago, and it looked like the fiery spark had finally returned to her eyes.
Progress. The best kind.
Four
ASHER
At an agonizingly slow pace, I made my way through the press of bodies crammed into the house, everyone talking at once—cops asking the witches questions about our captors, EMTs admonishing them to back off, the witches trying to reach their loved ones on the few phones being passed around. It took some maneuvering and far more patience than I typically had, but I finally found my way to the back of the house. To Gray.
She was sitting in the bathtub in her pants and a bra, knees drawn to her chest, arms curled protectively around herself as the shower water beat down incessantly. She hadn’t even bothered to close the door all the way.
The hellhounds—Sparkle and Sunshine, I’d been told—stood guard outside, but lucky for me, they gave me a quick sniff and let me pass.
Promising them I’d take good care of her, I stepped inside the bathroom and shut the door tight behind me. Through clouds of steam, Gray sat motionless, bra hanging half off her shoulder like she’d started to take it off but gave up halfway through. The hot, pounding water was turning the skin on her arms and chest bright red.
“Gray?” I asked softly.
She glanced up briefly and nodded, barely acknowledging my presence. When I didn’t say anything else, she looked down again, staring blankly at her knees.
Pain emanated from every inch of her skin. Her limp, blood-caked hair hung in matted locks around her face.
“Are the witches okay?” she finally mumbled.
“Damn straight. They’re a strong fucking bunch, those witches.”
Half of her mouth curved into a smile, but it fell just as quickly. “Any word from—”
“They’ll be here, Gray,” I said, knowing she meant Ronan and Emilio. “Give them time.”
She pressed her forehead to her knee, her shoulders trembling. I could tell she was working overtime to keep her voice steady. “It feels like Emilio and I just found each other, and now…” She trailed off, her words like an anchor around my heart.
Not because I was jealous. Because I didn’t know how to make it better for her.
There were a million things I wanted to say, and a million more I probably should’ve, but all of them felt big and dumb in my mouth. So instead of forcing it, I went for the diversion, kneeling down beside the tub and tugging on one of her matted curls.
“I realize I’m way out of practice at the moment,” I said, “as I’m sure you can tell by my just-sprung-from-prison, don’t-remember-what-soap-looks-like scent. But I’m pretty sure you’re doing this whole shower thing wrong.”
My attempt at humor fell flat. Gray lifted a shoulder in a gesture that barely qualified as a shrug, her bra strap sliding the rest of the way down. “I couldn’t figure out the shower head. I wanted to change the pressure, but it wouldn’t turn, and I just… I just kind of climbed in here and sat down. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here.”
I got to my feet. “Okay if I join you?”
“Be my guest. I’m betting we smell the same right now anyway.”
“Ahh, you’d lose that bet, Cupcake.” Her scent had always driven me wild. Not even the stench of dirt and sweat and smoke and blood could change that. “I hope you don’t mind if I disrobe for this one. I know how much you love a man in camo.”
This—finally—got a smile.
Returning it, I stepped into the tub, trying not to wince. Motherfucker, that water was hotter than Sebastian’s balls—at least, what I imagined the Prince of Hell’s ball temperature to be, which I’d admittedly never done before that moment and would hopefully never do again.
Shielding Gray from the lava-water, I helped her to her feet, then fucked around with the ancient shower head until I got things to a more tolerable pressure and temperature.
“Better?” I asked, maneuvering her beneath the spray.
“Mmm.” She tilted her head back to rinse her hair, exposing the pale expanse of her neck and throat. I reached up and stroked her, my thumb tracing her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, slowly working over to her shoulder. Her bra finally gave up and dropped away, and holy fuck, I wanted to kiss her. To bite her. To suck on every inch of her until she melted with pleasure and forgot every last one of her worries, just for a little while.
It wasn’t long before she finally ditched her remaining clothes. She tossed them unceremoniously into the corner of the tub, then stood on her toes and looped her arms around my neck.
Her full body pressed against mine, skin on skin, warm and slick, making me instantly hard. I felt the pulse of her magic, calling to me, strengthening me, just like it had in the prison. The incubus part of me wanted nothing more than to bury myself between her thighs, but the man in me just wanted to feel her. To hold her close.
For now, the man was winning out.
Barely.
Ignoring the ache in my balls, I wrapped my arms around her and held tight, my chin resting on the top of her head as the water ran down our bare bodies and washed away the evidence of tonight’s battle. The water swirled black and red down the drain, tinged with blood.
Wolf’s blood, I reminded myself, and my gut clenched, my mind flooding with nightmarish images of Emilio lying on that concrete floor, torn up and broken and writhing in pain, one faint heartbeat away from death’s door…
No. I couldn’t go down that road. Going down that road meant falling apart, and right now, I had to keep it together. For Gray. For Ronan and Darius. For Haley and Reva. For the other witches out there—strong, amazing women who’d just jumped out of the frying pan only to find out they’d still have to walk through fire, still have to face the Darkwinter and the hunters and whatever other crazy shit was waiting for all of us around the next corner.
“My hair feels like yarn.” Too soon, Gray pulled out of my embrace and reached up to wring out her hair. “And not the soft kind.”
Honestly, I was grateful for the distraction. Clearing the tightness from my throat, I pushed away the lingering thoughts of Emilio and grabbed the shampoo.
“Ever had your hair washed by a demon?” I teased, forcing myself to keep it light. Simple. Un-fucking-complicated in the face of the epically tangled, supremely fucked-up maze we were all stuck inside.
“No,” she said. Despite the exhaustion in her eyes, her mouth curved into a playful smile. “Only by a vampire.”
“Wait. What? You let Beaumont wash your hair? Seriously?”
She nodded, new mischief glinting in her eyes.
Keep talking. Keep distracting her from the blood still swirling at our feet…
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said. “Well, screw that bloodsucker. I’m way better at this. Turn around.”
With a small laugh, she did as I asked, and I eased her head back, squeezing shampoo into my palms and gently massaging it into her scalp.
She sighed, the sound of it more like pleasure than relief. I was taking that as a good sign.
“Told you,” I said. “Way better than Beaumont.”
“Not better. Just different.”
“Oh, I beg to differ, Cupcake.” I pressed my thumbs into the base of her skull and massaged upward, working my fingers across her scalp, unleashing the scent of mint and lavender—some expensive-ass spa shit that probably belonged to Emilio’s sister. A soft moan escaped Gray’s lips, and she shivered, despite the heat of the shower.
“Um, okay,” she breathed. “Where did
you learn how to do this, exactly?”
“First admit I’m better at washing hair than the bloodsucker, then I’ll tell you.”
“You each have different… strengths and… and skills,” she said, the pleasure taking hold of her, making her gasp. “Okay. You… you’re better at this. You’re fucking amazing at this.”
“Cosmetology school,” I blurted out.
At this, she let loose a full-on laugh, turning around to meet my eyes. “Seriously, Ash? Cosmetology school?”
I nodded.
“You’re kidding me.”
“Hey. I wouldn’t joke about something like good hair, Gray. Close your eyes and rinse.” I guided her head back under the water, careful to block the soap from her eyes. “Natural talent can only get you so far. Crafting beautiful hair artistry takes training, practice, and experience, and you can’t just—”
“You are the most full-of-shit demon I’ve ever met.” She laughed and tipped her head up, blinking the water from her eyes and looping her arms around my neck again. Fucking bliss. “Asher, the friendly neighborhood demonic hairstylist? Please. You were just trying to pick up girls.”
“Demonic hair designer.” I lifted a shoulder. “Besides, maybe they were trying to pick me up. Ever think of that? Not that I could blame them.”
“Of course not,” she said, dragging a finger down my chest, tracing a spiral pattern on my abs that had my cock stirring again. “Who could resist this? Big, bad incubus on the outside. Sensitive, artistic hairstylist—sorry, hair designer—on the inside…”
“That does sound like a winning combo, doesn’t it?” I grabbed her hand and brought it to my mouth, pressing a kiss to her fingers. It’s not that I minded her touch—the opposite, actually. I just didn’t know how much longer I could resist the siren call of her body, her smooth skin, her luscious lips, the tug of her magic… The last thing I wanted to do was scare her off with my insatiable appetite.
No matter what I felt about her, we’d only been together the one time, and that was just to save my ass from the devil’s trap Jonathan had injected into my bloodstream. Now, despite the fact that we were both standing here naked, I still wasn’t a hundred percent clear on her feelings for me. This thing between us—whatever it was now, whatever it was destined to become—it was all her call. It had to be.
Because the last woman I’d claimed as my own, the last one I’d claimed on my terms… she ended up dead.
So I held Gray’s hand and smiled and waited for her to make another joke, some crack about me picking up girls or becoming a beauty school dropout, but the jokes didn’t come. Her eyes had turned serious once again. She pulled her hand from my grip and slid her palm against my cheek, her thumb brushing my lips.
“I love you,” she whispered.
My throat tightened with a lump the size of Texas. Damn near felt like it, anyway. Had she really just said that?
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there tonight,” she went on. “If anything had happened to you, I… I don’t…”
“Shhh.” I took her face in my hands, my gaze drifting down to her mouth, then back up to her eyes, cataloging the curves and lines of her face, the blue of her eyes, the arch of her brows. Her words echoed in my mind, filling me up with something that felt a lot like magic.
I love you...
“Gray, I—”
“Asher,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed, and suddenly I forgot how to fucking talk and just lowered my mouth to hers, brushing a soft kiss over her lips.
Threading her hands into my hair, she returned the kiss, deepening it before pulling back with a sharp gasp.
“Sorry,” she said, pressing her lips together, then offering an apologetic smile. “Still stings a little.”
I traced the edge of her mouth with my fingertip, finally noticing the redness. “What happened?”
“Ronan… I kissed him at the warehouse, and…” She shook her head and lowered her eyes, clearly flustered. “We can’t… Whenever we touch now, it burns. Sometimes worse than this.”
“It burns? What the fuck kind of fairytale curse bullshit is that?”
“Not a curse. A deal. When I was stuck in the Shadowrealm, he and Darius staged a rescue. They came through the hell portal.”
“So this is Sebastian’s doing.” Of course. My blood began to boil, my hands clenching into fists. Why was that motherfucker so wrapped up in our lives? He had no claim on Gray. Not until her death.
Gray nodded. “It was the only way he’d let them use the portal.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Fucking hell, so much had happened while I’d been stuck in that rotting hole of a prison cell. Where did I even start to put this story together?
Ronan… shit. He must be gutted.
“Half of me wants to beat his ass for making another deal with that greasy soul-pimp,” I said.
“Well, a full three-quarters of me wants to beat his ass, and that’s when I’m feeling generous.”
“I get it. But the thing is, Gray… I’d do the same damn thing a hundred times over if it meant getting you back safely. I can’t blame him, and neither should you. You’re here. Alive.”
She nodded mutely, but she didn’t look convinced. She just looked devastated.
“He loves you more than anything else in the world,” I said. “He’s been in love with you for basically ever, but he gave that up for you. He’d fucking die for you. You know that, right? From the moment you came into his life, that was never a question, and it never will be.”
It was a long time before she moved again, and when she did, she looked up at me with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen.
“Newsflash, Asher.” She blew out a breath, her shoulder lifting in a weak shrug. “I don’t want him to die for me. I just want him to kiss me again without bursting into flames.”
“Okay. Let me tell you something about our boy, Ronan.” I grabbed her hands, squeezed tight. “He plays his cards close to the vest, and half the time you’ve got no idea what that motherfucker’s up to, right? But we both know he’s always up to something. He will find a way out of that deal—hell, he’s probably already started renegotiating with Sebastian behind the scenes. And when this is over—when all this shit is back to normal and the witches have gone home and the fae fucks are in the ground with the hunters and our crew is back together, strong and fucking solid, we’re gonna have a big party. A feast. Fucking massive. Cage dancers, live band, those guys who paint butterflies on faces. And the main course? Barbecued Sebastian nuts. What do you think of that?”
She tried to hold onto her sadness, her anger, but she couldn’t—not completely. The laugh broke through, lighting up her face once again.
“I think I’ll pass on the nuts,” she said. “But I do appreciate your enthusiasm. Not to mention your brutally on-point sense of vengeance.”
“Hey. Anything for you, Cupcake.” I stroked my hand down the side of her ribcage and squeezed her hip, the moment turning serious again. “Absolutely anything.”
“I know.”
She closed my eyes, and beneath my touch, her body trembled. It was slight at first, a tremor that began in her shoulders and rolled straight on down.
I reached up over her head and adjusted the water so she’d get more of the warmth.
“You were right earlier,” she said, her eyes still closed, the skin between them creased as if she were trying her damnedest to keep the images at bay. “When I found you in that cell, you asked me if I’d missed you. I missed you so much… so fucking much. I thought about you every day we were apart, and the picture of this moment right here…” She put her hand flat against my chest and shook her head. “It got me through some of the scariest shit I’ve ever faced.”
“Hey. You got yourself through that shit, because you’re strong as hell, Gray. You fought some epic shit, and you still came out swinging. Every time. That’s all you.”
“All I wanted was for all of us to be to
gether again,” she went on. “Now you’re here. We got you out of that prison. We saved the witches. But we can’t exactly celebrate, because Ronan is… bound by Sebastian’s deal. I’m bound by my own deal with him. I found out my birthmother tried to kill me. Darius doesn’t remember anything, and—”
“Wait. What? Gray, slow down. Breathe. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She shook her head, but I couldn’t tell if she’d even heard me.
“Emilio’s hurt,” she continued. “Really hurt. And Ronan and Elena were just… They looked like they’d already lost hope. How can he come back from that?”
She opened her eyes and looked to me as if I had the answers, but nothing I could say would make this right. Make it hurt less. I shook my head and reached for her face again, wishing I could kiss away the pain.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I know.” She lowered her eyes, water droplets collecting along her dark lashes. “I’m sorry, too.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I said. But before I could take another breath, she was stretching up on her toes again, pulling me close.
Her mouth covered mine in another kiss, this one so intense, it rivaled the heat of the water.
“Your lips,” I mumbled. “I don’t want to hurt your—”
“I don’t care,” she breathed. “I just… I want you. Us. Right now, Ash. I need to feel you inside me. Please.”
Fucking hell, this woman was going to wring me right out.
“Gray, you’re freaked out and upset and I get it. But…”
I trailed off, not sure where to take it. She felt so volatile right now—and who could blame her? But what the hell was I supposed to say? No, Gray. I don’t want you to use me as a painkiller. No, Gray. I want you to need me, not just because my touch feels good, but because it brings you happiness. Because you really do love me, just like you said…
“Asher,” she said, curling her hands into my hair, desperation seeping into her voice, “I can’t… I can’t think about this shit anymore tonight. I feel like my head is going to explode. Right now, I just need you. That’s all.”