We’re halfway home when the heavens open, and it begins to pour with rain. I cringe as it travels down the gap in my collar. We’re both soaked through in moments as the icy rain bounces onto the road. Thunder rattles in the distance and I tighten my hold on Dorian’s waist. He readjusts my gloveless hands until they’re tucked inside his jacket, even though my skin is icy cold already.
It feels like it takes ten times longer to get back to the cabin than it should. Dorian has to slow right down in places and the road looks like it’s in danger of flooding.
“Not too much further,” he shouts into the helmet speaker.
By the time we make it back, Dorian has to physically peel me off the bike. It’s like my limbs have entirely seized up and I’m shivering violently.
Rather than setting me down, he insists on carrying me into the house like I’m a fainting maiden.
We step inside the mudroom I didn’t even know existed, and he helps me to pull off my helmet and then tugs the soaked jacket away from my drenched skin. The protective gear drops to the floor with a wet plop and I shimmy my pants down, baring my cold, goosepimply legs.
“Shit. We need to warm you up,” Dorian says, rubbing a towel up and down my arms. He’s not even taken his own clothes off yet, even though he’s just as cold.
I stumble slightly on my dead legs, and Dorian curses, scooping me up into his arms again. The feeling of his wet jacketagainst my bare skin makes me cringe and I want nothing more than a hot shower right now.
“Need to warm you up,” Dorian mutters again. “Shit. You’re like an icebox, your damn teeth are chattering. Some relaxing afternoon this has turned out to be. Shit.” It’s like he’s talking to himself rather than to me, so I just squeeze his arm. I’d pinch his nipple if I could, but the positioning is all wrong.
As soon as we step into the living room, Cal is striding toward me. His hair’s disheveled, like he’s been tugging on it, and my stomach swoops with guilt. He’ll have seen the storm coming and spent the past hour worrying about us.
“We’re f-f-fine,” I insist. Shame that my chattering teeth don’t make my statement any more convincing.
“You should both get a shower,” he says. “Maybe a shower, then a bath.”
Cal’s protective side is out in force and he takes over, scooping me into his arms and carrying me toward the bathroom. It’s only once the bathroom door shuts behind me, I catch sight of Dorian’s dejected expression.
“I’m f-f-fine,” I tell Cal. “Seriously.”
“You will be,” he replies. “Now, let me take care of you.”
He strips off without letting me go for a moment. It’s honestly impressive, but I don’t think he’s in the right headspace for compliments right now. No, he’s gripping onto me for dear life, like he needs to feel me against him.
“I’m fine,” I repeat, my voice stronger now that I’m under the hot water. “A little rain won’t wash me away.”
“Not a fan of storms,” he grunts, positioning me so that I’m fully under the warm spray while he’s behind me. Micah quickly joins us and the two of them work together to rinse my hair. Cal then slowly lathers up shampoo while Micah soaps up the rest of me.
It’s not sexual in the slightest, despite us all being naked and the two of them being so hot it should be illegal. My eyes rake over Micah’s colorful chest plate tattoo and the lithe muscles in front of me.
But they’re both totally focused on the task at hand, like taking care of me like this is soothing their anxiety. I feel another stab of guilt. It’s not like we meant to get caught out in a thunderstorm, but I can understand their worry. Dorian and I were sitting ducks out there, practically begging to hit a puddle on the bike and lose control, or get hit by lightning.
“I’m not a fan either,” Micah adds. “I remember getting soaked to my skin one time when I was living in the forest. It took me so long to warm up, I wound up feverish and confused. It was terrifying.” He leans closer, pressing kisses to my wet face and shoulder. “I couldn’t stand it if you had to go through the same thing.”
My heart hurts at the thought of him going through that alone and he shoots me a small smile and I see he’s not wearing the cuff to dull his sense of my emotions.
“How long did you live like that?”
He shrugs, carefully shifting me so that I can rinse off.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “I had no way of working out how much time passed out there. It felt like a long time.”
“Months?”
“More like years. Possibly decades. Who knows? I was pretty feral when Iri came across me.”
This isn’t a part of the story I’ve heard before, so I lean closer and press a kiss to his chest. “How did he come across you?”
Cal snorts behind me as Micah smiles at the memory. “He was supposed to be vacationing with his mother, but she had this idea of luring him home and setting him up with a bunch of she-demons. He drove for miles to give himself some thinking time and stopped in the forest where I was living.”
While he’s talking, Cal works steadily, conditioning my hair and slowly rinsing it clear, then gives himself a cursory rinse before turning off the shower.
