Jono followed him to the bathroom attached to their master bedroom. Jono set about turning on the water and getting it to the right temperature while Patrick removed his weapons and stripped out of his clothes. Jono shed his own sleeping clothes, stepping into the tub beneath the spray of hot water.
Patrick joined him seconds later, and Jono maneuvered them so Patrick stood beneath the spray. Jono reached for the soap, running it over Patrick’s shoulders and down his back. They both had space to move around in, but not a lot, and Jono’s elbow kept brushing against the shower curtain as he slowly washed the sweat and grime and lingering traces of hell off his lover’s body.
The muscles of Patrick’s back were knotted, and Jono took his time to work them out with hard presses of his fingers and thumbs. Soap eased the glide of his hands as he cleaned Patrick, steam from the hot water filling his lungs. The hellfire stench swirled down the drain until all Jono could smell was Patrick.
He dragged the tip of his nose up the curve of Patrick’s spine as he rose to his feet, letting his lips linger over warm skin. Jono pressed a kiss to Patrick’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Patrick, hands skimming over smooth skin and the ridges of scar tissue. He stepped back, pulling Patrick with him, until the water beat against his scarred chest.
Patrick tipped his head back against Jono’s shoulder, dark red hair plastered to his skull, lashes spikey from the water. Jono nuzzled his cheek, breathing him in. Patrick’s mouth parted on a quiet gasp when Jono wrapped his hand around Patrick’s cock, slowly stroking him. Water eased the motion, and Jono splayed his other hand over Patrick’s stomach, holding him close. His own cock was nestled at the top of Patrick’s arse, and he rolled his hips, grinding slowly against slick skin.
Patrick arched against the pressure and the touch, humming softly, eyes still closed. “Gonna have to clean me up again if you continue.”
Jono kissed the corner of his mouth, rocking forward. “Travesty.”
Patrick’s laugh turned into a moan when Jono tightened his fingers and stroked him harder. The steam in the shower made every breath thick as he worked them both over with steady motion, aware that the water wouldn’t stay hot for long but unwilling to move them out of the shower.
Holding Patrick in his arms and getting them both off would never grow old. The way Patrick responded—hitched breaths, fingers digging into Jono’s skin, need and desire saturating the air around them—made Jono never want to let go.
It was easy to draw pleasure out of Patrick, whispering encouragement against the shell of his ear. Patrick came with a quiet moan, spilling over Jono’s fingers as Jono ground against his arse, cock sliding over warm, wet skin. Jono wrung every last drop out of him before fitting both hands to Patrick’s hips and taking one more step back.
The space gave him just enough room to dig his thumbs into the meat of Patrick’s arse and spread him open. He slid the thick length of his cock into the crease, enjoying the sensation. He ground against Patrick for another minute until he came, sticky white ribbons spattering over Patrick’s arse and back.
Jono kissed Patrick on the side of his neck before turning him around to kiss him on the mouth. The water was still warm, but only just, the lingering steam a heavy blanket in the air around them. Patrick kissed him back lazily, the water washing away the mess Jono had left behind, though it wouldn’t ever erase the pack scent buried in his skin.
When they broke apart, Patrick let his forehead drop to Jono’s shoulder, the water starting to finally cool. Jono ran his hand up and down Patrick’s back a couple of times before gently putting distance between them.
“Come on. Let’s finish up and go to bed,” Jono said.
They didn’t spend much more time in the shower, only long enough for Patrick to wash his hair. Jono turned off the water before they got out and dried off, pulling on sleeping pants for bed. The air conditioner was running, the coolness of the apartment a relief.
Jono picked up Patrick’s tactical pistol and dagger still in its sheath from the dresser and brought them to Patrick’s side of the bed. He set the dagger on top of the nightstand. Opening the drawer, he placed the pistol inside, fingers brushing against the old Greek coin that Patrick kept there. The broken-off piece of the Morrígan’s staff was hidden inside a small iron box that was shoved in the back of the drawer, leaving enough space that the pistol still fit.
Jono closed the drawer and went to his side of the bed, getting under the covers and pulling Patrick close. He rested his chin on top of Patrick’s head, holding him tight.
“We can’t let this attack slide,” Patrick said quietly.
Jono drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “I know.”
Patrick’s hand on his hip tightened, but he said nothing more. Jono closed his eyes, thoughts spinning, hoping for at least a couple of hours of sleep. He tried not to think how moments like this, lying in bed with each other, might be limited.
Deep in his mind, Fenrir stirred, the god’s presence drifting through Jono’s awareness.This war was always inevitable.
Jono knew that. It didn’t make it any easier to accept.
5
“Nah,I don’t take your kind.”
Jono stared at the driver white-knuckling the steering wheel, fear a rancid smell filling up the car. “’Course you don’t.”
“That’s rude,” Wade said from the seat beside him, brown eyes narrowing as he glared at their driver.
Jono shook his head. “Leave off.”
Even with his sunglasses on, some people still got a glimpse of Jono’s eyes. The brightness labeled him asother, and Jono normally wouldn’t care, except he didn’t want to be late for his meeting with Sage’s fae partners. Patrick had taken the Mustang to work today, and Jono had been on conference calls with all the pack alphas ever since they’d woken up.
Sage had dropped Wade off at the flat before heading to work. She’d arrived a couple of minutes before Patrick had left but hadn’t come up. Jono only knew Wade had arrived when the nineteen-year-old had let himself into the flat and made a beeline for the fridge.
Jono had ordered them an Uber to take them downtown because it was quicker than the subway or trying to flag down a taxi. Apparently, they were taking the subway after all. Sighing, he got out of the vehicle. Wade climbed out after him, grumbling under his breath about arseholes all the while.
