Page 45
Admit It
MIKO
Shaking my head and berating myself internally, I ripped my key, the one I’d left in the lock for anyone to use, from my apartment door. Rationally, I was aware I had no control of why said key was left there, yet it didn’t change the fact that I risked the security of my temporary home.
Not that a flimsy lock will deter the witches for long.
I stepped over my spilled belongings, limping over the threshold. In my peripheral vision, half of my mind acknowledged Bane crouching and deftly returning everything to its proper place, closing the door behind him, and setting my bag on the wingback desk chair. Belatedly, I wondered why my legs hurt. Glancing down, my eyes skimmed over my lower body and snagged on my knees, knees that looked like road rash. I sighed, realizing the injury was probably due to colliding with the concrete slab at the entrance.
My head throbbed, beating a painful rhythm above my left eyebrow and temples. Bleh, just another damn thing to worry about before I can sleep.
Someone sniffed loudly behind me causing my shoulders to rise toward my ears, then infused all of my grumptitude as Bane called it into a heaving sigh and hoping it conveyed even an ounce of what I felt. Between one blink and the next, Bane bent to one knee, foiling my shambling escape. “You’re bleeding,” he growled, accent thicker than usual.
“Suuure, come right on in. Make yourself at home. There’s bubbles in the fridge, or feel free to make up a fresh pot of coffee,” I rambled, sarcasm stitched into every syllable.
He snickered. “Alcohol this early?”
“I call seltzer bubbles. Monstera’s family…never mind.”
His growl morphed into a purr. Gah, those fucking sounds he makes, talk about a dangerous trigger for my foolish libido.
“This creamy skin of yours is so delicate. You need to be more careful, Ma—” Bane coughed, obliterating the rest of his admonishment.
The muscles in my calves tightened as I tried stepping out of reach, first one leg, then the other, but he tightened the granite three fingered hands shackling my ankles, claws scraping tantalizingly along my skin. I wonder what it would feel like to have those claws scrape other places…hmm…or even prick my ass as he palmed it. I wouldn’t even mind if he cut me a little and caused me to bleed. Hmm.
What the mother-fuck is wrong with you, Miko? Pull yourself together.
I mentally slapped myself, then forced my annoyance to the forefront. “You don’t say” I drawled, hoping he missed how raspy my voice sounded. “Let go, I need to shower.”
“Not until I care for you first.”
My brain was slow to process his words, stuttering to a blissful blank as something warm, wet, and slightly textured trailed from my shin to the base of my knee. What the fuck was that? I jerked my eyes to Bane when my overstimulated mind finally caught up. My jaw dropped and my pussy clenched around air as I watched an abnormally long, deeply forked, tongue the same electric shade as his eyes, licking up the dribbles of crimson staining my skin.
“What,” I swallowed, my mouth and throat suddenly parched, “what are you doing?”
“Hmm. Cleaning and numbing your wounds. What does it look like?”
My cheeks heated, but for once, no snarky response automatically came to me. “Um, okay…” I didn’t mean for the words to imply a question, all the same my voice rose slightly at the end. “Wait, I thought you didn’t have healing magic?”
Bane glanced up. “I don’t, not really, but there’s a component in my saliva that can numb the pain of minor injuries,” he paused, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind my knee and causing my legs to tremble, “if I will it.”
This was getting out of hand. I needed to shower before anything else happened—I was still waterlogged for fuck’s sake.
“Bane?”
“Yes, Lass?” He whispered against the inside of my thigh, his lips grazing my skin with each word, his accent torturously languid.
I shook out my hands and crossed my arms, trapping my fingers to my sides so I wouldn’t, accidentally, tunnel them into the longer fur on his head, or, shit, grip his horns and direct him where I craved. “I need to shower.” The remainder of my convoluted thoughts disappeared as a thought barged into existence. I flipped over my wrist, only for my watch face to remain black and my stomach sank.
Of course, dead battery…probably my phone, too. Oh god, how much time has passed?
“Dammit. Can you plug my phone in for me? I think it’s in the smallest pocket of my backpack and there’s a charger by the bed.”
“Your wish is my command,” he agreed, barely concealed laughter in his lust drenched gravelly voice.
Without ensuring he followed through with my request, I hurried to the bathroom connected to my room, then toed off my soggy sneakers and stripped out of my cold, ruined clothes. My eyes raked over the claw foot tub as if it was the object of my recent carnal thoughts. No, I lamented. I can’t take a bath without knowing the time or date, the risk of being late to a prior obligation was too high.
Not waiting for the water to warm up fully, I climbed awkwardly over the ridiculously high lip of the tub and made a mental note to add a step-stool to my list. Okay, maybe it wasn’t all that far from the ground and I was just not tall enough, either way, I struggled.
