Page 37 of Corpse Roads

“Because Hunter would have woken me up and asked those questions he promised to hit me with.”

“Damn, Harlow. You’ve got him nailed already.”

His chest rumbles, vibrating against my cheek. I should be embarrassed, snuggling up to him like a baby bear. Now that we’re inside, I can feel just how cold I am. He feels like a furnace.

“Shower,” Enzo decides, carrying me upstairs. “You need to warm up. What the hell were you thinking?”

My teeth chatter against each other, silencing my answer. The shower looked so intimidating when I arrived; I don’t know if I’ll be able to work it. I’m afraid of breaking something.

“I like the cold.”

“It isn’t good for you though,” he argues.

Carrying me back to the bedroom, Enzo shoves open the bathroom door with his shoulder. Inside, the slick, modern en-suite awaits. Dark-slate tiles are matched with silver finishings, the space revolving around a walk-in shower.

He places me down on the counter space next to the sink basin. Protests are lodged in my throat as Enzo begins to unwind the muddied bandages covering my feet, his jaw clenched tight.

The brush of his fingertips against my inner ankles causes a zip of electricity to race down my spine. I almost gasp out loud at the foreign sensation. It’s like he’s hitting me with tiny, delicious bolts of lightning.

“Your feet are healing well,” he mumbles, inspecting the soles of my feet. “The water might sting some of the deeper cuts.”

Tossing the dirty bandages, his eyes coast back up to meet mine. There’s a hint of nervousness there, a perplexing contrast to the sheer gravity of his physical presence. I manage a shrug.

“The pain doesn’t bother me.”

“It bothers me.” Enzo’s hand skates up my leg before he realises and pulls it back.

At the last second, I grab his wrist. Enzo looks startled by my initiation of more contact. I feel comfortable around him in a way that I’ve never experienced before.

Subconsciously, I’m craving the closeness, desperate to avoid the crushing emptiness of being alone again. That’s when the bad thoughts creep back in. I’ll do anything to keep them at bay.

“I’ve survived much worse,” I whisper, my thumb resting over the steady pulse of his heartbeat.

“That isn’t the comfort you think it is, little one. Surviving is one thing. This is the start of your time to actually live.”

Pulling his hand from mine, he clears his throat and moves to turn the shower on. Water cascades from a silver disc in the ceiling, the hot spray creating billowing clouds of steam in the bathroom.

“How do I work it?”

Enzo spares me a glance. “Pull this lever to adjust the temperature, and this one to turn it off. Don’t burn yourself.”

I’m mesmerised by the waterfall imprisoned in slices of frosted glass. It’s like my very own rainstorm. I’d be quite happy to spend all day here.

“I’ll find some fresh clothes.” Enzo retreats to the doorway. “Leighton’s should fit you until we go shopping.”

“I’ll be fine wearing whatever. No shopping required.”

“You need clothes, toiletries, the works.”

“I don’t need anything,” I try again.

“Why are you fighting me on this?”

“You’ve given me enough.”

When I think Enzo is going to give in and return to the gentle giant I know, he closes the space between us again. His expression is stormy as he slowly, deliberately, trails his eyes over my entire trembling body.

“That was then, this is now. You need everything. I’ll damn well get it for you, and you’ll damn well wear it. Got that?”

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