The water shuts off with a decisive click, followed by the rustle of towels and Blue’s low humming. Something that sounds vaguely eerie but in a way that’s oddly soothing. Steam billows out as the bathroom door opens wider, and then Blue emerges wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets that catch the lamplight.
Jesus Christ.
I’ve seen him partially undressed before. Felt his hands on my skin, tasted the salt of his sweat. But this is different. This is Blue in his natural environment, completely at ease in his own skin, and the sight of him makes my mouth go dry.
His chest is a masterpiece of controlled power, lean muscle and definition without being overly bulky. The tattoos I glimpsed in my dressing room cover his torso in intricate patterns that seem to tell stories I’m dying to read with my fingertips. Dark ink swirls across his ribs, over his shoulders, down his arms in patterns that make me want to lick every single one. Water beads along his collarbone and trails down paths between muscles, and I find myself following those droplets with my eyes. His hair is slicked back and darker when wet, making his bone structure appear even more defined.
The way he moves around the room is casual, confident. Completely at ease.
“You’re awake,” he says. “How are you feeling?”
“I just stabbed someone in the hand and then passed out with all the dignity of a Victorian lady with the vapors.” I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “Very dignified. I’m sure Leroy was impressed by my follow-through.”
Blue’s mouth curves into what might be amusement. “Leroy is more concerned with his hand at the moment. Hans had to call in reinforcements to stop the bleeding.”
“Good.” The vicious satisfaction in my voice surprises me, but I don’t try to hide it. “I hope it hurts.”
“Well, about that...” He moves to the dresser, water still dripping from his hair onto those incredible shoulders. “They’re currently enjoying the hospitality of my basement. All three of them.” Blue says this like he’s discussing the weather. “Turns out they weren’t quite ready for the evening to end.”
I should feel something more than satisfaction. Horror, maybe. Guilt. These were human beings, and now they’re locked in a basement because of choices I made. Because I picked up that knife and drove it through Leroy’s hand.
But all I feel is relief. They can’t hurt anyone else now. Can’t kill another father in front of his daughter.
“Is that where you went?” I ask. “To get them?”
“Just the three who joined us for dinner. Leroy, Jack, and Victor.” Blue opens a dresser drawer, rifling through whatever’s inside. “Hans got word on where they were hiding. After what happened in the greenhouse, I thought the least I could do was bring you a gift.”
Three of the five from my list. Leroy with his gold tooth. Victor with his limp. And Jack in his expensive suit—the one who gave all the orders that night.
“And the others? The rest of the Crow?”
“Still breathing, unfortunately. But not for long.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “One problem at a time.”
The matter-of-fact way he discusses hunting down the remaining members of a criminal organization should probably worry me. Instead, it makes me feel safer than I have since Dad died.
“Blue, about earlier.” I start, then stop when I realize I’m not sure which earlier incident needs to be addressed first. The snooping through his private floor, the sex, the stabbing, or the fainting. “I mean, about the third floor. I’m sorry I went up there when you specifically asked me not to.”
He pauses in his search through the dresser drawers, his back still to me. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Sorry.” He turns to face me. “Because breaking into locked areas of my house means you’re either not sorry at all, or you’re sorry you got caught.”
The distinction shouldn’t matter, but somehow it does. “I was curious. I was exploring this massive place and... well, I’ve never been good at being told no.”
“And what exactly did you discover during your unauthorized exploration?”
“A lot of locked doors and a serious addiction to decorative keys.” I try for lightness, but his stare is too intense. “I didn’t actually get into any of the rooms.”
“No, you didn’t.” His tone is conversational, but there’s steel underneath. “Although not for lack of trying.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I said I was sorry.”
“You did.” Blue opens another drawer, his movements deliberate. “But breaking rules has consequences, Saylor. And a punishment is in order.”
“Punishment?” I let out a short laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
Instead of answering, he reaches into the drawer and pulls out something that makes my brain stutter to a complete stop.
