Page 89 of Shackled to the World
The hurt was her problem, not his.
A tiny chittering sound drew her attention to the top of the steps and she whirled to see Prem looking down at her with a ferret grin. Her throat closed and tears blurred her vision.
He’s alive.
She didn’t understand how or why, but she was infinitely grateful.
She gave the ferret a watery smile and wiped her hand across her mouth when her chin wobbled. He limped carefully down two of the steps, then put his paws in the air, shooing her away, silently urging her to go, that he would look after Logan until her return.
She reached out, careful not to hurt him, and bumped her finger against the side of his face. He rubbed against her, then pulled away and drudged back up the stairs to stand guard at the top.
With a sigh, she reluctantly turned away and followed Xander into his room, absently taking note of the starkness of his bedroom—it was devoid of anything that might mark it as his. The place was neat as a pin. A dresser, bed, and nightstand were the only furniture, and a single peg had been installed in the wall where his large leather duster hung within easy reach.
The bedspread was a dark, speckled blue that reminded her of the sea. The whole place smelled of him, and the tension in her shoulders eased a little more with each breath. She didn’t get to see much more as he pulled her toward a door across from his bed.
The bathroom was massive, constructed in three sections. A huge tub took up most of the first room, the whole space screaming luxury, a place where a person could forget the world and simply soak. Without being told, she knew this was his private domain, his true home. Small bits of his personality were scattered around the room, carefully preserved—a broken shell, a tiny bird’s nest, a neatly stacked selection of books.
She craned her neck to see more as he hauled her along, gasping when she saw the next room. The vanity was huge, spread along the whole side of the room, a different sink for each guy. She could tell which sink was whose just by looking at the clutter.
Logan’s was an absolute mess, his shit scattered everywhere, even on the floor, like it’d multiplied while he was gone. Camden’s section had his bottles lined up neat as a pin, everything in its place. Xander had the bare minimum, nothing on display but his toothbrush. Mason’s was more of an ordered chaos, each of his few items was carefully maintained, as if he treasured even something as simple as a brush. Given that he was a troll, one on the bottom of the food chain in his family, maybe each item was a special gift.
There were two toilet stalls, but she didn’t get to see more as she was dragged into the last section. A giant shower stood waiting for them. Besides a door to the hallway, the room only had a counter full of soaps and shampoos and an open closet full of huge towels.
She only became aware that they had stopped when Xander released her. He studied her carefully. When he seemed sure she wasn’t going to run, he opened the shower and turned the water on full blast. Steam instantly billowed out from the multiple showerheads and filled the room.
Just imagining the feel of them pounding on her sore muscles made her groan.
Beyond worrying that he was still in the room with her, she stripped off her camisole. She wasn’t ashamed of her nudity. Having grown up in what was virtually a glass box, observed every second of her life, she had quickly been stripped of any shyness. While she normally wouldn’t take off her clothes in front of any of the guys, her need to get out of her stiff, bloody clothes was like a compulsion.
She could practically feel death clinging to them.
Her pants proved to be more difficult, the fabric sealed to her skin with dried blood.
Frantic to get them off, she wiggled and pulled. The sound of Xander clearing his throat made her freeze, and she glanced up at him.
His face was devoid of emotions, but the white tips of his black hair were standing on end. His teal eyes were sharp…and focused over her shoulder, allowing her privacy. The man was big and rugged, his facial hair giving him a roguish look…except he acted like the perfect gentleman.
“If I may?” He held up his hand, and she saw his fingers were tipped with sharp talons.
Annora crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself, more for his sake than her own, then walked over and presented him with her back. “Please.”
He dropped to his knees behind her, and all the breath whooshed out of her at the suggestive pose. Her body came alive as she watched him carefully lift a single talon and slide it between the pants and her flesh.
He dragged the talon down the back of her thigh, the fabric separating easily, like under a sharp blade, and she shivered as his touch lightly caressed her skin. When he inhaled deeply and swayed closer, she knew he could smell her arousal.
But instead of acting on it, he carefully repeated the same performance with the other leg. Once done, he gently peeled her pants off, leaving her standing naked with him still kneeling at her feet.
Chapter Twenty-two
Xander couldn’t move. Annora looked down at him from over her shoulder, her gaze smoldering, and his muscles locked tight against the need to touch her and follow through on the promise in her eyes.
They were both covered with blood and smelled of death, but he’d never seen anything so fucking beautiful in his life, and he clutched his knees in a brutal grip to keep from reaching for her. Underneath the scent of battle was her own unique, intoxicating smell, and he couldn’t stop himself from licking his lips at the thought of tasting her again.
His cock pressed demandingly against his fly, imprinting the zipper on it, but fuck if the bite of pain didn’t make him want her more.
When he realized most of the blood covering her was her own, he struggled against letting his mind drag him back to the horror of battle, the image of blood pouring down her body and soaking into her clothes seared into his brain, and his hands shook at the stark knowledge of how easily he could’ve lost everything.
He wasn’t strong enough to survive starting over again…not without her.
