Contemplate the impossible, reality-warping teleportation later.
I hugged her closer to my chest, pressing my face into her hair and breathing in her scent—rose and sweat and something underneath that was uniquelyher. I whispered a brief thank you to whichever god or Fate had gotten us home safely and quickly. Though from what the night promised to bring, it felt as if we’d traded one devil for another.
Chapter 21
Violet
My skin was on fire, stretched too tight over bones that felt like they were trying to escape my body. I forced myself to wake, to claw my way up through layers of fever and delirium that dragged at me like quicksand.
I was sitting on the cold floor of an opulent bathroom—glossy white subway tile against black marble flooring with brushed gold fixtures that gleamed under recessed lighting. A double vanity stretched along one wall, topped with matching mirrors framed in ornate gold. A stack of plush cream towels sat folded beside twin sinks that looked like they’d never been used.
Water rushed somewhere nearby, the sound echoing off hard surfaces. I heard a string of expletives in a rough and frustrated voice that was achingly familiar.
“Rowan?” My voice came out barely above a whisper, my throat raw and parched.
My eyes searched for him, and his frame filled my vision. He crouched to my level, his body outlined in a comforting blue haze reminiscent of the one I had seen around Jules. He placed his hand on my forehead. The coolness of his palm against my burning skin felt glorious, like snow against sunburn.
“Feels good,” I managed, leaning into his touch despite myself.
Rowan’s concerned voice broke through the haze that had wrapped around my thoughts. “Violet, what hurts?”
Everything.I wanted to say it—to list every sensation tearing through my body—but I could barely force words past my swollen tongue. Sleep beckoned, sweet and dark, but an angry ache pulsed in my core, threatening to split me apart from the inside.
I groaned and wrapped my arms around my stomach, curling into myself. “It hurts.”
“Shh, I know. I know it does. I have you.” Rowan’s arms gently tugged at my clothes as he peeled off my shirt.
I felt my socks disappear next, then my pants, then my underwear sliding down my legs. The marble was mercifully cold against my heated skin, and it was everything I’d ever wanted in that moment. I was covered in sweat, and sticky everywhere—my back, my thighs, between my legs where arousal had slicked my skin.
“Rowan, please.” I didn’t even know what I was asking for anymore. Relief? Death?
Him.
Strong arms lifted me from the ground, and soon I felt my feet slowly dip into the freezing bathwater. It felt glorious against my burning soles. I started to shake, violent shivers tearing through my body.
“Is it too cold?” Fear colored his voice as Rowan pulled me back out, and I shook my head frantically.
“No. Please. It’s perfect.”
I felt his body tense, muscles coiling beneath my weight, and then we began our descent. Water sloshed against his white shirt as he lowered us both in, soaking the fabric until it clung to the ridges of his chest and abdomen. I couldn’t help but stare at the glorious lines of his body, his nipples taut against the chill, and the urge to bite them was nearly unbearable.
I wanted to taste him. Run my tongue from the hollow of his throat down the planes of his chest to where his navel dipped lower, following the trail of pale hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. It felt like the only thing that could stop how dry and cottony my mouth had become. I needed his skin, the salt of his sweat, the taste ofhim.
Rowan let out a low groan, the sound filling my ears like honey. “You are mumbling your thoughts aloud, Violet.”
His voice sounded strained, stretched thin.
I focused, realizing he was right. I’d been speaking without conscious thought. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing,” he said, clearly doing his best to keep me above water with his arms buried deep in the bath. “You are struggling with what someone gave you. Can you sit on your own?”
I nodded, the motion harder than it should have been, but I managed to stay upright when he withdrew his support. The water had already turned from feeling cold to lukewarm, but Rowan’s arms were covered in goosebumps.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He laid his arms over the tub’s rim and rested his head on them, his wet shirt dripping onto the bathroom floor. “Fine. How do you feel?”
“Hot? No, like an inferno.” I touched my own skin, then reached out to touch his, concerned. “I can’t tell what’s wrong, butIfeel wrong. Like my body doesn’t fit right.” It was the only way I could describe the sensation—as if I’d been shoved into skin two sizes too small.
