His hands went to his belt.
Daisy turned her head sharply, fixing her gaze on the frothing bubbles floating in the tub.
The whisper of wet fabric slid down his skin, followed by the soft thud of sodden trousers hitting marble. Footsteps, then the shift of water as he stepped beneath the shower spray.
She measured her options. Take the key and escape. She couldn’t run, but she could hide. For how long? The other hunters were still out there.
Or, she could climb into that beautiful bath and try to feel slightly human again. She looked at the shower alcove, listening to the water sluice off of him in waves.
Her hands shook as she reached for the clasp of her bra. The metal slipped through her trembling fingers. Once. Twice.
Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to see, as her useless hands refused to cooperate. She had been strong all night. She had run and fought and survived. But now, faced with the simple task of taking off these god-forsaken clothes, her body betrayed her.
She couldn’t stop shaking.
Giving up on the clasp, she pulled her arms through the straps and shoved the bra to her hips and down her legs. Her exposed breasts made her all the more aware of how stupidly vulnerable she let herself become.
She just needed to get out of these trappings and into the water. It called to her like a baptism she needed more than her next breath.
A sob built in her chest as she fumbled with the tiny clips of the garter belt, her fingers too clumsy, too cold, too broken to manage the delicate mechanisms. She yanked at the fabric, ripping the lace, and shoved the ruined stockings away.
He was still in the shower, thankfully. Her eyes caught the mirror, and she stilled. Frozen in shock at the sight of so many cuts and bruises on her skin. Her hand trembled to the gash by her eye, and she winced at the tenderness.
Daisy’s gaze darted away. Why would anyone want her looking like this?
Her body shook harder as she refused to shed a single tear for the outcome of her own damn choices. Finally, mercifully, she lowered herself into the tub.
The heat seared her chilled skin like a brand. She gasped, her body tensing against the burn, as her defenses shattered. Tears spilled over her lashes, and she wiped them away, wincing when she brushed her fingers over the bruise on her cheek.
For a long moment, she simply sat there trying to process it all, but that was impossible. Even here, her memories played back like a dream. It would take years to make sense of what she’d been through. And the night wasn’t even over.
Adjusting by degrees, she let the warmth seep past her defenses. Her muscles slowly unclenched, but the tension trapped inside of her never fully escaped.
The water rose to her collarbones, surrounding her in liquid heat that melted the cold from her bones. Steam filled her lungs with each breath. Jasmine drifted through the air, coating her senses in softness that worked as a constant reminder not to get too comfortable.
Daisy took comfort in the sound of the shower, knowing she only had a short time to luxuriate in this brief respite. The scent of soap drifted from the alcove. Water sluiced and splashed as she stared at the stone partition.
A low sigh rolled through the billowing steam like thunder. Then a heavy breath. A hushed grunt, and a wet repetitive splash.
Daisy looked down at the water, trying not to listen anymore, but the sound was inescapable. She focused on washing herself, not bothering with the bottles crowding the silver tray, and instead reached for the wrapped bar of soap, plain, white, and familiar.
She scrubbed her body with robotic focus, trying hard not to think about how her skin had come to be this way. Blood. Dirt. Sweat. Fear. She dragged the soap across her skin in punishing strokes, watching the water cloud with the evidence of her night.
She made sure to clean every filthy inch. Her arms. Her legs. Her stomach, where Hadrian’s fist had driven the breath from her body. Her thighs where hands had grabbed and groped and taken.
Memories sliced through her in jagged fragments.
Gravel biting her palms.
Breath hot against her spine.
The rip of fabric.
The weight of hate.
The punch of revenge.
Copper flooding her mouth.
