It’s too late. He's panicking again, dragging bloodstained hands through his white hair as he stumbles slightly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
As someone who’s had more than my fair share of trauma-induced breakdowns in the past, I find it’s best to be snapped out of it. I move to his side. Ignoring his protest, I take his hand and pull him into the attached bathroom. I slip out of my boots, set my etherium knife on the counter, and reach for him.
“No. Stop. You can't keep touching me,” he chokes out even as I start removing his ripped clothing. “I’m too volatile right now. If I make the wrong move, I might freeze you or hurt you or?—”
“Does the plumbing still work?” I check, stepping behind the glass shower wall.
Whatever his answer is, I don't catch it as I turn on the shower, turning the dial to hot. I sense the slight ripple of a common magic warming charm before the shower head begins spraying me with hot water.
Thank the fucking universe.Warmth.
“Come here,” I tell Everett, not caring that my clothes are now sopping wet.
He's still breathing too fast. He readjusts his ripped shirt several times before stripping it off entirely, taking a tentative step closer, then away again. In the dim light and through the fog of glass, I can barely make out the big scar traveling down and across his torso until it stops over his right hip.
Finally, Everett demands, “Are you still hurt? Did Asher heal you?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Right now, my elemental is in a state of shock. I need to get him to focus on something until he can breathe fully and think straight. I'll just have to be thesomethingthis gorgeous legacy focuses on.
Oh, woe is me.
Through the glass, he holds my daring stare for a moment before swallowing and removing the rest of his clothes. I didn't turn on the light in here, so the only light comes from the lamp’s glow through the bathroom doorway. It's still enough light that I can make out each of Everett's small, anxious ticks as he steps behind the glass with me.
As soon as the hot spray hits his cold skin, extra steam clouds this space—but it doesn't freeze, thanks to the magic that I suspect my meticulous elemental hired someone to put on the plumbing.
I take one of his hands, guiding it to my wet coat. Everett hesitates for only a moment before gently stripping me out of the wet clothing. I don't miss his shaky exhale of relief when he doesn't see an injury on my shoulder or ankle, but he immediately grabs the nearest soap and loofah to clean the dried blood off of me.
My attempt to calm him down is working. With each second that ticks by, his breathing stabilizes until he's wholly focused. He doesn't argue when I reach for shampoo to use on his hair. When my fingers tangle in the silvery wet strands, Everett moans softly, letting his forehead drop to mine.
His voice is ragged. “Even if it’s not hurting you, you shouldn’t touch me. You have no idea how much I'm not worthy of you. Now more than ever.”
“Shh. You'll get soap in your mouth.”
“I failed you. I failed all of us. And I know I'll never deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I'm so fucking sorry and?—”
While his mouth is still open, I slip two shampooed fingers inside. Everett recoils, gagging and spitting out the taste of soap. He sputters at me in indignant confusion, successfully rippedout of that spiral of self-hatred that I plan on never hearing again.
“Your mouth was spewing shit, so I cleaned it out for you,” I inform him, reaching for the body wash next.
“Maven,” he whispers. “I'm serious. I…changed. I did things I'm not proud of.”
I pause, finally considering what unpleasantnesses that might encompass. “Women?”
“What?”
“Did you fuck other women?” I clarify, trying to keep my tone conversational even though I just broke the cap of this body wash bottle as electric jealousy sears through me.
It's a reasonable question. Everett is an incredibly sexy legacy with needs. He's not a shy virgin anymore, so maybe he decided to speed up the mourning process by getting with other women. It's not like he'd have a problem finding willing partners, end of the world or not.
I don't blame other women for hopping into bed with my gorgeous elemental, but if he mentions anyone by name, I'll have to kill them for touching what's mine.
Everett has been staring at me for long enough that I'm about to repeat the question—but all at once, I'm hanging upside down, thrown over one of his shoulders. I gasp, scrambling to grip onto his wet frame as he storms out of the quickly icing-over shower. I'm abruptly pinned to his bed with him above me, cold water droplets falling from his wet hair onto me as cold air prickles all over my wet, bare body.
In this light, I can finally see the pure, savage fury etched into his beautifully scarred face. It takes my breath away.
“Tell me you did not just fucking ask me if I wassleeping with other womenwhile I spent months in agony trying to remember how to fuckingbreathewithout you,” he warns darkly.
