“Riding around and fighting monsters is your job?”
“It’s the only reason I left faery.” He glances at me like he has more to say, but then looks away like he’s changed his mind.
He opens up a door. “Here, have a shower, get warm.”
From the cupboard he pulls out towels and a fluffy bathrobe and puts them on the vanity.
I want to lift my chin, thank him, and take that shower. But I’m shaking and scared, and I don’t want him to leave me alone. He’s as wet and cold as me.
“Where will you be?”
“Reloading.” Water tracks down the side of his face.
His hair is stuck to his wet skin, which only makes him more impossibly hot. My gaze skims over his neck, across his shoulders and along his well-muscled arms. No wonder he could lift me with ease. It’s then I notice the dark marks on the back of his hand, where the thumb joins the palm. “What happened?”
He lifts his hand. “Silver burn. I didn’t have my gloves on.”
What I’d thought were freckles up his arm, are black burn marks. Only up his right arm, not the left. The left is scored with nail marks, mine.
“Silver gives me welts.” I thought it was an allergy.
He nods. “You were born here, you’re more resistant. But I’m guessing if you were to have it against your skin for long enough, you’d burn the same.”
I don’t really want to find out, but I need to. “Would that prove I’m fae?”
“Is that what you need?”
“Yes.”
He gives a slow nod and steps back.
“Don’t leave.” I reach for him, hating the weakness but needing him the way I’ve never needed anyone.
He hesitates.
“You’re wet too.” I tug at his T-shirt, lifting it. “Join me.”
He strips it off and drops it on the floor with a wet splat. Then he’s helping me out of my clothes. Peeling off the leggings I taught class in a lifetime ago. I shove my shoes off by stepping on the heel. Between kisses, he takes off my hoodie and top. The fabric clinging and sucking on my skin. Then I’m wearing only my thong.
I should be embarrassed, or self-conscious, but I’ve looked death in its glimmering yellow eyes and survived. Emboldened, I tug open his belt and undo his fly. His hands are all over me, caressing and touching, and his lips leave a hot trail along my neck. I work his jeans open, my fingers grazing the hard length barely constrained by his briefs.
“Get the shower going,” he says.
I turn around and obey, sticking my hand under the water, as I wait for it to heat. I hear his heavy boots hit the floor and glance behind. He’s naked, his dick jutting forward thick and hard.
This isn’t the smart thing to do. I know that. But the heat in his eyes is all the convincing I need. He kisses me with a fever I’ve never felt. Like he needs me more than he needs to breathe. Steam fills the bathroom and I step back into the shower, drawing him with me.
Hot water hits my back and the tension and fear I’ve been holding onto melts away. I’m safe with him no matter what.
He hooks his fingers into my thong and drags the slip of fabric down, dropping to his knees in front of me. My lips part as he kisses my inner thigh. His hands cup my ass as his tongue finds my clit. He laps at my pussy, the steam enveloping us in our own world.
I grab his shoulders to keep from falling over, spreading my legs further so he can delve more deeply with his tongue. When the first wave of climax breaks over me, I gasp and dig my nails into his skin.
He glances up but doesn’t stop until I’m sure my legs will no longer support me. Only then does he stand, pick me up and press me against the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he thrusts into me, filling me, stretching me until I’m riding every inch of his cock.
His lips find mine and I’m consumed by his hunger. I come again, shuddering in his arms. He groans, spilling inside of me. It’s all I can do to hold on to him and not melt to the floor of the shower.
Neither of us moves as we catch our breath. My fingers play with the gold chain around his neck, hanging from the center are three circular tags. They appear to be metal, wood and stone.
