Page 51 of Demon's Bride

My heart stutters over the words. It skips and struggles to pick back up at a reasonable rhythm as I yield to the searching pressure of her hand and wade back into the tub of water behind me. Allie follows me step for step into the bath, eyes bright with delight as the water closes over her calves and ample thighs. I’m submerged to the chest when it laps at the thatch of curls between her legs.

Perfect. Just perfect, my mate. Allie has already shed any shyness she held onto last night.

Still, I remember her hesitation at my earlier embrace, her lingering doubts about her magick and the bargain. And that’s saying nothing of the fact that we still haven’t discussed everything that happened last night and what it means for our relationship.

With monumental regret, I settle myself back on one of the bench seats in the tub and cross my arms over my chest. “There are a few more things we need to talk about.”

Allie’s having none of it. She follows me, comes to stand just in front of me, and puts her hands on my shoulders.

“Do we?”

“You know we do.” The words come out more gruffly than I intended when she moves her hands down over my chest. As she does, she leans in and those luscious breasts of hers press close when she brings her lips to my neck.

“Little witch,” I murmur, stilling the downward path of her hands. “Are you trying to distract me from our conversation?”

“Is it working?” Her question is a soft whisper against the sensitive place beneath my jaw, and the smell and feel of her so close is nearly enough to make me set aside my determination to hash things out. Nearly, but not quite.

“Allie,” I breathe. “We can’t. Not until we talk about what happened last night.”

I gently remove her hands, and as soon as they’re free she takes a step back. Losing her closeness is like a physical blow, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and yanking her back to me.

A few more steps backward and she settles herself on the bench opposite me. With her arms folded over her chest to match my posture and her chin hiked defiantly upward, it’s clear she’s not going to speak first.

It’s fair, I suppose. I was the one to drop the whole mates revelation in her lap. I should be the one to jump into cleaning up after the fallout.

But damned if I know where to begin.

“Back in Vayla’s workroom,” I start, sifting back through the lust-hazed memories of earlier this afternoon. “You mentioned feeling something before I stepped through the Veil.”

Her forehead creases in thought. “Yes… I mean, I might have. I’m sure it’s nothing what it feels like for you.”

“Describe it,” I coax, “and let me be the judge of that.”

Instead of answering right away, Allie rises from where she’s seated to wade toward me. Her shoulders remain under the water, but even the hint of her naked form beneath has my blood readily heating again. When she’s just a few inches away, she stops and I hold myself stock-still, utterly unwilling to do so much as lay a finger on her until she tells me what she’s thinking.

Even as much as we both enjoyed what passed between us this morning and in the workroom, neither moment should have happened before we talked through everything. It’s just… with a willing, hot, wanting Allie in front of me, I’m utterly lost. I’m mindless, embarrassingly incapable of self-restraint. Whatever she wants from me, whenever she wants it, I’m powerless to do anything but grant it to her.

This, however, is too important to delay any longer.

“I felt…I felt tugged toward the Veil. I had to stop myself from taking a step forward. Like, physically restrain myself.” Her lips turn up at the corners and my heart jerks in response. “I had to look at Joan to see if she felt it too, but I don’t think she did.”

“No,” I can’t stop myself from interjecting. “That pull was for you and you alone.”

Allie’s body sways a fraction closer to mine, like that same force drawing her to the Veil is still trying to lay its claim on her. My claim on her.Herclaim onme.

A second before I’m sure I’m going to break and reach out to touch her, she lifts a hand and lays it on the center of my chest.

“I can still feel it,” she whispers.

I lay my hand over hers. “Yes.”

“And you feel it, too?”

“Yes.”

“What does it mean?”

There’s such fear in her voice, such uncertainty and doubt that I can’t stop myself from pulling her into my lap. Keeping her hand securely pinned beneath mine, I take the other and raise it to my lips.

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