Page 63 of Havik: Warlord Brides
“Feeling better?”
“A sexy shower with my favorite person? My spirits have been lifted,” she replied.
The air heated between them. He wanted so much in the moment that it felt too big to be contained. He had nearly lost Thalia once and he would not do so again. He’d bind her to him, mark her for all to see that they belonged together.
He cleared his throat, focusing on the task at hand. So much blood covered his mate: some hers, some donated from others. The glittering powder mixed in created a sparkling gore. Using a sponge, he lathered on the sweet-smelling soap she preferred.
“You kissed me,” she said.
“I did.”
“I’m not sure you did it right.”
The sponge paused, hovering over her shoulder blade. “I am sure I did it correctly.”
She looked over her shoulder. “You should kiss me again, just to be on the safe side.”
“Ah, I see. Safety protocol is very important to me.” The water rinsed away soap and grime, leaving a clean patch. Gently, he pressed his lips to her shoulder, avoiding the angry red lacerations. Warm from the water, her skin tasted fresh.
Carefully, he cleaned and kissed, working his way down her to the swell of her bottom. His tusk nipped into the meatiest part of her ass. Instead of jumping away, she groaned, pressing back into him.
Growling with hunger, he spun her until his face pressed into her lower abdomen. Her slender form appeared to be frail, but he could feel the strength in her. He wanted to scold her for injuring herself, for running off and deviating from the mission parameters, but he was so thankful to have her back.
Kisses brought him to the apex of her thighs. Her scent was strongest here, musky and full of desire.
Her hands explored the swirling tattoos on his arms and shoulders, her fingers tracing the patterns. They burned with her touch.
Groaning with the urge to taste her, he pulled away.
Soon.
His hands gripped her shoulders. Unsure how to proceed, he didn’t want to stop touching her but now was not the time to continue. She was injured and tired. Only a selfish male would give in to his base instincts and claim his mate in such a condition. She deserved better from him.
“You should kiss me here,” she said, tapping her lips. She tilted her head back as if challenging him. Water glistened on her lips and formed rivulets down her throat.
He groaned, knowing that if he did, he would not stop.
“You are injured,” he said.
“Not that injured,” she replied, lower lip in a pout.
“I will and I won’t let you go again.” He pressed a final kiss to the top of her wet head. “But only after I put a healing gel on your wounds, food and sleep.”
Thalia
A dream about not being able to lock the stall door for a public toilet woke her. Wearing—more like swimming in—Havik’s tunic, she hustled down to the cleansing room to take care of business.
She returned with a cup of steaming tea. Every part of her was exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with Havik. Whether it was his bulk, the solid wall of muscle he called a chest, or the way his large hands held hers so carefully, she felt safe with him. The world was a horrible place filled with horrible people who only cared about others if it benefited them. A dog-eat-dog world, her mom would say.
But with Havik, it wasn’t such a bad place. Or maybe they made it a better place, together.
For crying out loud, she sounded sappy. That had to be exhaustion.
Thalia curled up in the chair, blowing on the tea to cool it.
Eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out Havik’s form under the bedsheets, like a mountain in the middle of the bed.
He took such good care of her when they got back to the ship, carefully cleaning her back and slathering the scrapes with gel. His touch had been tender, reverent even, but that was as far as it went, even when she begged for more.
