Even if I could tip myself over that edge, I somehow know it wouldn’t be enough. I have a hollowness that my own hands can’t help—an ache to be filled like a hungry void inside me.
This is ridiculous, I think. Pull it together, Jules. If this doesn’t work, you’ll just have to try something else.
My eyes land on the elegant marble shower stall in the corner of the bathroom. I’ve only had baths in here so far, but at that instant I know what I need—what can ease and erase the ache inside me.
I need a cold shower.
I give up trying to touch myself and strip out of my clothes. I step into the shower and twist the elegant gold handle all the way to cold before I can think about it or talk myself out of it.
The water hits me like knives. I suck in a sharp breath, bracing my hands against the tile as icy streams race down my back and over my breasts.
Almost at once I’m shivering. The cold water should shock me back to myself. It should ease the heat I feel growing under my skin—the aching throb between my legs.
Only, it doesn’t.
No matter how long I stand there—no matter how numb my skin gets—the heat inside me doesn’t fade. It burns brighter, becomes even more insistent. It’s almost like my body is mocking my attempts to control it.
My teeth start chattering and my knees wobble. I’m feeling dizzy again, which probably isn’t a good sign.
I hear a knock on the door, distantly at first. I know it must be Lucian.
“B-be out in a m-minute,” I call. “I’m in the sh-shower. D-door’s locked.”
But apparently, he has a way with locks. I hear a clicking sound and then the door opens.
“Julia.”
Lucian’s voice cuts through my brain fog instantly—it’s deep, resonant, and filled with concern…and something darker.
Before I can protest, he steps fully into the bathroom, his gaze sweeping over me under the spray of water. His jaw tightens when he sees me. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of long satin sleep trousers, his bare chest on display.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he growls, frowning. “Why must you be so stubborn, little one?”
“I—th-though…” My voice comes out broken, my teeth chattering. “Th-thought I c-could help m-myself.”
He reaches in and shuts off the water without hesitation. Cold air rushes over my soaked skin.
“Well, you obviously can’t,” he says firmly. “Here.”
He grabs a towel and wraps it around me, rubbing briskly and decisively. The friction makes me gasp again, sensation sparking everywhere he touches. His hands are warm, strong, and unashamedly thorough—like he’s grounding me back into my body by sheer force of will.
When I’m mostly dry, he scoops me up against his bare chest like I weigh nothing.
The heat of him sinks into me immediately. My cheek presses against the firm muscle of his shoulder. His skin smells like spice and smoke and something uniquely him, and my body responds before my mind can catch up. I lean into him, longing for more even though I still feel guilty about it. Why should I have pleasure when Hanna is in such bad shape?
Lucian carries me into the bedroom and lays me down gently, then follows, pulling me close until I’m wrapped in his arms, my back pressed to his chest. His body is solid and warm, radiating comfort.
“Lucian—” I begin.
“Shh,” he rumbles sternly. “Just be quiet for a moment while you warm up.” He pulls me closer, rubbing his big, warm hands up and down my arms and sides.
Slowly, my shivering stops.
I sag against him, exhausted, overwhelmed, and suddenly very close to tears.
“Now,” he says, turning me to face him. “We can talk. Why were you torturing yourself like that in there just now?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying not to cry. “It’s just… we were having such a nice day. And then that thing attacked Hanna, and I’m so worried about her. And there’s no way I should be feeling like this—feeling hot—when one of my best friends is having her soul sucked away all because she chose the wrong moment to come check on me and got pulled into my personal mess.”
