I nodded.
“Give me a moment.”
Clothing rustled. The embers in my stomach burned hotter. How many clothes was he taking off? His soft footsteps stopped behind me.
Gods, what was I doing? This was treading dangerously close to a line I couldn’t cross. Not with him.
Bare, muscled legs lowered into the water on either side of me.
Heart in my throat, I whipped around. My eyes widened, trying to consume the naked man in front of me. Well, mostly naked. He still wore his undershorts. But the rest of him was like a living, breathing, heated work of art. His waves of black hair—damp from the steam—curled at the ends over his forehead andneck. Contoured muscles rippled under bronze skin as he pulled himself closer.
And I had been right before, on the cliff road—his thighs were magnificent. I wanted to place my hands on them and lift myself toward him.
His jaw tightened at the look on my face. “Turn around, little thief,” he rasped.
What? Oh. My hair.
I turned around and closed my eyes tightly, my body quivering under the water. I heard him squeeze the soap between his hands. Then he trailed his fingers over my hair.
I bit my lip harder as he slowly worked through the tangle.
“How are your wounds?” he asked.
I had to swallow twice before the words came out. “Healed. Mostly. You seem to be doing that a lot for me lately.”
He hummed. “You seem to get into trouble a lot.”
I snorted. “And you don’t? Do you not recall how we met?”
“When I helped you escape prison? Of course, I remember.” There was a smile in his voice that I wished I could see.
I laughed. “That was a mutual effort, I believe.” An effort that had left behind two other Shadow-Wolf bodies in that cave.
My humor dampened. Why did everything have to remind me of Renwell and what I’d done?
Aiden tugged on a hard knot, and pain shot through my scalp. I flinched.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. His touch gentled, and for some reason, my heart ached.
Silence swelled and thickened like the clouds of steam around us as he continued to methodically comb and wash my hair. His fingers stroked my head and brushed my ears and my neck, building a delicious sensitivity. When he lightly raked his nails over my scalp, a moan escaped my throat.
His fingers stilled. Then he gathered my heavy hair and draped it over my shoulder. “Done.”
But before I could turn around, he swore and seized my shoulders. I froze.
Fucking Four. I forgot.
“Who did this to you?” he snarled.
I tried to breathe calmly through my nose. I knew what he must’ve finally seen in the low light. A thorny mess of scars etched across my shoulders.
He turned me to face him. I recognized the fury blazing across his face. From when the Shadow-Wolves were chaining me in the cell. And when the cattle herder had leered at me.
My heart fluttered like hummingbird wings.
“Who gave you those scars?” he demanded.
“Does it matter?” I whispered.
