I’d learned how to disappear when I was very young.
My family had been torn apart when I was barely more than a boy, ferals tearing through our settlement until the Watch arrived just late enough to call it containment instead of failure. I’d survived because I was born a wolf and learned how to pretend that I wasn’t.
I’d hidden within the Watch’s ranks, learned their methods, their blind spots. I’d played the role of mentor, soldier, anything that kept suspicion away from the truth of what I really was.
It had been lonely.
It had been necessary.
Until Tamsin Drake walked into my life like a lit match, burning holes through every one of their lies just by existing.
Now, kneeling at her feet, washing away the remnants of her first hunt as a wolf, I felt something I hadn’t allowed myself in a very long time.
Hope.
I reached her thighs and she hesitantly parted her legs for me. I drew in a breath, seeing that she was wet and had to ignore the jabbing desire that shot straight down to my cock. The scent of her arousal swirled around me, and it was hard to keep focused as I finished cleaning the mud off her legs.
“I can finish bathing myself,” she said, glancing at all of us in turn, then landing squarely back on me. “You’re all staring.”
“No one’s staring,” Nox said dryly.
Bishop cleared his throat. “That is… debatable.”
Her blush deepened.
I reached out, meaning to take Griff’s coat, letting her see my hands before touching her. “May I?”
She hesitated, fingers tightening briefly in the coat.
Then she nodded.
I eased the coat from her shoulders, careful not to rush, folding it neatly and setting it aside. The air shifted perceptibly. Tamsin drew her knees in a little, suddenly very aware of being the only unclothed one in a room full of men whowere all staring at her with hunger, concern, and increasingly obvious desire.
Her cheeks burned.
I dipped the cloth into the warm water, wrung it out, and started with her left wrist, slow and unhurried, washing away dried mud and whatever else was on her skin. It was warm beneath my fingers, alive and responsive.
She shivered faintly.
“Cold?” I asked.
“No,” she said quickly.
I moved upward with careful restraint, continuing with her forearm, then her elbow, never lingering, never rushing.
Tamsin watched me the entire time.
“I don’t like being fussed over,” she muttered.
“I know,” I said. “You’ll tolerate it anyway.”
“That doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Yet here you are,” Bishop said mildly.
She shot him a look. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Perhaps,” he smirked.
