“Xander!” She could just make out his profile, his features cast in shadow.
Rough hands pulled at her top, the fabric ripping with little effort. Water hit her open wounds, and Xander growled at her cry. He moved until his large body blocked the spray.
She stood for a moment, panting past the pain. The metal cuff she wore on her upper arm seemed to absorb the surrounding cold, the crystal dormant. Xander reached up, as if to take it off.
“Don’t!” she said, his fingers brushing the crystal that was set between the two overlapping bands. It was the only siphon she had left, the only crystal that was capable of absorbing her excess, volatile magic. “Don’t touch it.”
He dropped his hands to her jeans instead, the fabric caked in mud. Pushing him away she turned to face the white tile, the button loud when it popped open. She carefully yanked at the wet denim, Xander a heavy presence at her back.
Her shoulder ached, and she ignored it as she almost fell, ungraceful as she pulled and yanked until her legs and feet were free.
“Ready?” he asked before he slowly allowed more and more water to hit her skin. She bit her lip, stopping herself from crying out. His hands were soft, almost hesitant when he gently moved her braid and touched the edges of the wounds, the claw marks starting from the back of her shoulder, across her collarbone to end on the top curve of her left breast. Kyra remained still, not stopping him as he began to remove the strap of her bra, but left it fastened.
It was only a few minutes, just enough for the warm water to melt away some of the tension from her muscles when it was cut off, and she was achingly aware of him behind her.
She had never been thankful for the darkness, but right then she was.
Kyra almost whimpered as the cold air assaulted her wet skin and something stretched taut between them. Xander was silent, his movements invisible as he closed the distance, and she froze at the contact. His breath was a burst of heat, his slightly stubbled cheek brushing across hers before his nose touched her throat. Ten seconds, twenty, she wasn’t sure how long he stayed there before she began to shake, a warmth uncoiling in her stomach.
“It’s clean,” he said, finally stepping back. “You’ll be okay.”
Kyra just nodded, struggling to swallow.
“We need to get it wrapped up.”
Again she nodded, just a gentle acknowledgment that didn’t really confirm whether she heard the words or not.
“Kyra?” Fingers gripped her chin, turning her head, and that was when she lost it.
The full blown panic came from nothing, her heart thundering in her chest as she closed her eyes, then quickly snapped them open. If she wasn’t already wet she would have been drenched in sweat, her hands shaking as she reached around in the dark and they landed on hard, naked male chest. She should have shoved, screamed for him to leave so she could deal with her reaction alone. Instead her nails dug into his skin, pulling him closer as the tattoos she couldn’t see burst into life beneath her palms.
She concentrated on the intricate lines and swirls, the tattoos brightening the bathroom to the point she could just make out the outline of his strong jaw and straight nose. The light reflected in his eyes like a cat, which meant they had shifted to the liquid silver as before, but he blinked and they were gone.
Her breathing calmed, her chest no longer aching when she pulled her hands back. “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat. As soon as her touch stopped, the glowing stopped and she was enclosed in the darkness once more, but this time she was calmer, more prepared.
Xander grunted, stepping back out of the shower. “Lights, on,” he said and the light above turned low, just enough to make out the room.
Kyra kept her gaze directly at his face. She knew he wasn’t naked, having somehow pulled on a pair of his own jeans between the cemetery and his place, but that didn’t mean the water hadn’t stuck the denim to him like a second skin. Her face burned hotter.
“We need to get it wrapped up,” he repeated slowly, dark brow raised when she just stood there like an idiot.
“Yea… yeah, okay.” She cleared her throat, moving to stand in front of the counter beside the sink. She pulled herself up, the movement causing one of the cuts to open and blood to trickle. Xander was there to meet it with a clean cloth, the tin and bandages already beside him.
She watched him as he carefully applied the salve, the scent now familiar and almost relaxing. He worked in silence, his face schooled into an almost militant boredom as eyes of ice remained solely on the task at hand. It was easier to watch him when he wasn’t looking, wasn’t openly judging.
Just as he started to cut the bandages she decided she couldn’t stand the silence, the tension any longer. “So, you turn into a white wolf, lion thing with lots of tails.” She tried to make it sound casual, but it came out more of a question. “That’s interesting. Can you all do that?”
What was he?she thought.Some type of hybrid druid shifter?
Xander flicked his gaze up, holding hers for only a second before they skirted back down. “You’re going to scar,” he grunted instead of answering. “But you’re lucky it was only a scratch. Hounds are venomous, their bite deadly. Your arm looks fine,” he added, gesturing to the thin cut she had made.
“Lucky me,” she laughed, the sound hollow. “What was that thing? Why haven’t I seen one of them before?”
“Shadow-Veyn,” he said, meeting her eyes once more. “Monsters created in The Nether. They were once trapped along with the Daemons, and now they’ve been released to roam and hunt freely up here on Earth Side.”
Kyra couldn’t drop the eye contact, which was almost a challenge in itself.
“Now why,” Xander said as he gripped the counter on each side of her thighs, “were not one, but two hellhounds hunting you?”
