“This, too?”
“That, too,” I tell him, mouth dry.
Callum is a fucking work of art.
It’s all I can think as he tugs his shirt up and off. Planes of hardened abdominals and firm pecs. Wide shoulders and thick biceps.
Did I think his armor was expertly crafted?
Because it’s nothing compared to… this. Him. Sculpted like the hand of some god or goddess reached right down and formed him out of clay.
I’m mesmerized. Dumbstruck. Left standing and staring at him like a horny idiot.
At least until he turns.
There, right in the middle of his back, is a huge, ugly bruise.
A bruise he got keeping me from almost getting killed in Faerie—again.
“One second,” I mutter and retreat into the Jack-and-Jill bath between my room and Soleil’s. I find what I’m looking for under the sink and return to him.
Only for my focus to stutter again.
Goddess, what a sight.
My demon mate—a male from an entirely different realm—standing in the middle of my childhood bedroom, studying the wall of photos beside the door.
He glances over when he notices me standing there, and the corner of his lip twitches despite the pain he must feel from his injuries.
“These are incredibly lifelike renderings,” he says, and I laugh softly.
“Photographs,” I explain, joining him to look at them. “It’s a way to capture a moment. An image taken from life.”
I remove the lid from the jar of ointment and dip my fingers in. I lift them to his bruise, eyes darting to his for confirmation.
Callum nods, almost imperceptibly.
His skin is so warm beneath my hand.
Warm enough that if he were a human, I’d be worried he was running a fever.
His muscles twitch when I touch him, and I murmur an apology as I apply the ointment.
“You don’t need to apologize, star. Not for helping me.”
Unable to come up with a reply to that, I nod and keep working, massaging the thick paste over the bruise until it’s completely covered. Callum endures it stoically, at least until I’m done.
He lets out a low hum. “That’s incredible. You witches could teach our healers a thing or two.”
“I think Soleil already is,” I mutter as I close the jar and set it aside. “She got drafted in to help when my friend Joan was injured in the demon realm. She worked with a healer… Vayla, I think it was? The two of them saved her.”
“I know Vayla. One of the best healers our realm has to offer.”
I inspect his bruise again and find it’s already fading. “It’ll probably take a day or two to go away completely, but you should be all set.”
He turns.
We’re face to face. Close. Too close. All the broad, muscled planes of his chest are close enough for me to lean in and run my lips over, my tongue, my teeth, just to see if he’s delicious as I think he will be.
