Page 44

I close my door gently, glancing at Ever’s door. I appreciate her friendship, but I need to be alone right now. Much to my relief, I don’t run into anyone on my way to the baths and the large room is empty when I arrive. I set my towel on a bench by a row of lockers and quickly slip out of my clothes. Humid air strokes over the tessellated skin across my back. Self-consciousness lashes through me, even though I’m alone, and I hurry into the water, breathing out once it laps at my shoulders and covers the scars littering my back.

The warm temperature envelops me, hot enough to loosen the tension between my shoulders. Goddess, this is exactly what I needed. I exhale and rest against the stone wall, propping my arms on the beveled edge beneath the water and resting my head back against the floor. The low lighting in the room casts the ceiling in hues of amber and gold.

My eyes flutter closed. The energy slithering through Diremount has softened in the late hour. Normally, during the day, I’m battered with the buzz of excitement, fear, anger, or even sadness. It all dulls to a low hum as people begin to sleep behind their warded rooms, which dampen it all.

Thank the Goddess.

It’ll only last a few hours, but at long last, there’s some fucking quiet. I breathe in deeply and exhale, relishing in the silence and heat encasing me. Peace never quite reaches me, but I swear my mind brushes against something close to it.

A current of air rushes over me, the calm aura disrupted by a distinct register of power. My eyes snap open, and I suck in a surprised breath.

Rowan, one fourth of the quad I’m coming to rue, is undressing at one of the benches, his corded back turned toward me. The shifter is covered in muscle, each hard plane of his back perfectly defined. His hands fall to the band of his shorts and he tugs them down. I let myself look at his ass before averting my gaze.

Fucking hell. There goes the peace I almost found.

Linking both forefingers, I squeeze them hard, keeping my breath steady as he gets into the baths. I’m far too aware that we’re alone. Water splashes as he walks down the steps. A small lap of a wave crests over my shoulder. I don’t have to look to know he keeps a respectable distance, settling against the wall directly across from me. I can sense the space. My neck prickles. Even though I’m hot, a chill walks down my spine.

It’s fine. I’m safe. I’m fine.

I clench my fingers even harder, and when I can’t stand not putting my sights on him, I let my focus drift from the stone wall to Rowan.

His eyes are closed.

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I glance at the exit. My towel is too far away to get out without him noticing the scars on my back, and it’s not like I can walk backwards without making it obvious that I’m hiding something. I bite the inside of my cheek, letting the pain ground me. It’s fine.

When I look at him this time, his eyes are open, glowing an intense shade of gold. His beast has perked up. He tips his head, growling softly.

I go completely still, fear crawling up my throat. We’re alone.

His nostrils flare, head rearing back in surprise, and with a blink, the glow fades. “Sorry,” he murmurs, forehead wrinkling.

“It’s okay.” Is it? What was that?

He rubs the back of his neck. “Do you want me to leave?”

The offer alone makes me feel weak and vulnerable. I’ve given too much away. First with Carver and now with Rowan.

“No, it’s fine.”

He squints, as if he knows I’m lying, but he simply nods.

Quiet settles around us like thorns pressed against skin. I clear my throat and rest my head back, closing my eyes and pretending to rest, though that’ll never happen with Rowan here. I’ll have to wait him out.

Minutes tick by, and with each one, my skin grows tighter and tighter, my body far too aware of the shifter. With a huff, I open my eyes and press my lips together, glaring at the ceiling.

What I wouldn’t give to be Ever. To feel confident in my own skin, proud, even. Mr. Peters made sure to ruin any chance of that. The magic-imbued whip he used ensured I wouldn’t heal. Sometimes he’d run a finger over an old scar before adding another, almost lovingly. I always wondered if the sight of my scars was like artwork to him.

Memories of the whip lashing my skin steals my breath. I wring all my fingers together under the water to try to stop them, but with one unwelcome memory comes many. The palm over my mouth, muffling my screams.

My heart rages in my chest, lungs closing as phantom touches violate me, almost as real as if Rodderick were here.

Stop, stop, stop.

My mind doesn’t listen. The more I resist them, the more flashes of what happened flit through my mind, the same terror dousing me. Acid flows through my veins. I choke, trying to calm my breath, but I can’t.

A warm presence before me drags me out of the depths of the past and into the present. The surface of the bath whispers around us, disrupted by Rowan’s sudden movement. A new spike of panic drives into my chest as his glowing eyes drill into mine.

We’re here, alone. He’s bigger. He has magic. A beast.