Page 64 of A Shadow of Betrayal

“We use her. But leave that to me,” I mutter, my stomach sinking with my words as I jot down a note then set the box on my desk. “ Now, get out,” I snarl, my anger too much to bear with him in the room. Razar dips his head in a respectful bow and leaves the office without a sound as I let my head fall into my hands.

THIRTY-FOUR

Meyer

“Come on,” Creed says, keeping our fingers linked as he tugs me into a room two doors down from Lennox’s office.

“What are you doing?” I ask in confusion, following him into the cozy-looking room. There is a small fire built in the hearth, the flames licking at the logs Creed must have placed there before coming to get me. It chases away the bite of cold that always lingers in these log walls, and I relax a little. I look around the room as Creed closes the door behind us.

In the far corner of the room is an enormous four-poster bed made of the same logs as the walls. The bed is covered in a patchwork quilt that looks thick and warm and almost double the size of the thin blankets provided to the Rangers. Next to it is a small bedside table with a hurricane oil lamp set at the center. Its big flame illuminates the slowly darkening room. But the best part? The big copper bathtub sitting on a rug on the opposite side of the room makes my heart leap in my throat, and a grin spreads over my face.

“You have a tub?” I ask excitedly, walking over to see it already partially filled with water. Creed grins and walks over to the big pot sitting over the fire.

“Yep. I had a few Rangers fill it. It already had a few pots of hot water added, so hopefully, this one warms it enough to be tolerable,” Creed mutters, hefting the big black pot off the metal hook it was hanging on, and bringing it over to the tub, pouring the steaming water in.

I shiver in anticipation, the thought of bathing in warm water lifting my spirits. Our bathroom has an odd shower that you have to manually pump to get water out of the spout. It's basically like our sink, just mounted higher so that you can stand under it. The problem is… there is only one water temperature that you have access to, and it's barely above freezing. I have since mastered the art of quick showers and using my rag to have a sponge bath on days that I don't do as many strenuous activities.

“Perfect. Sit down there and let's look at that leg. I’m worried about the wound. We need to clean it and probably take you to the Doc before you go to bed,” Creed says, walking over and setting his hands on my shoulders, guiding me over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Oh. I'm fine,” I mutter, smiling at him as he crouches down in front of me like Lennox had. He’s holding a small wet rag and eyes my ripped pants.

“What happened to your pants?” he asks, gently running the rag down my leg to clean off some of the dried blood.

“Lennox ripped them so he could see the wound,” I admit. Creed frowns, wiping my leg again before his brow furrows.

“You healed yourself? That's great, Lemon Drop!” Creed beams up at me, and I smile and shake my head.

“No, I wish!” I laugh and take the rag out of Creed's big hand, wiping at the blood that had run on the inside of my thigh. “Nox healed it.”

“What?” Creed whispers, and I look at him. His big green eyes are wide, and he’s staring at me with an odd look of confusion.

“Um… My leg? I didn't heal it,” I repeat, unsure why he's staring at me like I grew a second head.

“Nox healed your leg?” Creed asks, completely baffled. At my nod, Creed sits back on his heels, his eyes flicking from my face to my leg, then back again. “Nox said you got your sight from your mother's side?” Creed asks. I nod again. “What was her last name?”

“I don’t know. She was adopted,” I tell him, wiping my leg a few more times. “Mom was admitted to a mental institution because she saw monsters. She died while I was still young. She was only thirty-three.” Creed's big hand covers mine as I wipe the remaining blood from my leg.

“I’m sorry, Meyer,” he whispers, and I shrug.

“I didn't really know her. It's okay,” I mutter, trying to brush off the subject, not wanting to dive into how shitty my childhood had been. Creed frowns and shakes his head.

“It's not okay. You should have had a mother to raise you. Instead, she was ripped away by those who didn't understand. Where was your father during all of this?”

I scoff and shake my head. “He's the one who had her admitted. I was never allowed to see her. The moment he remarried, he sent me to live with my grandpa.” Creed glowers at the rag in my hand and shakes his head angrily before he takes it from me and stands up.

“Come on. Let's get you in the tub while it's still warm,” he mutters, irritation rolling off him in waves as he walks over to the tub and checks the temperature, then nods in satisfaction. He turns and gestures for me to get in, and I arch a brow, looking at him in amusement.

“Am I supposed to bathe in my clothes?” I ask, watching as Creed's face twists in confusion.

“Uh, I guess you can. It's a little weird, but whatever floats your boat,” he says slowly, and I laugh.

“I need to get undressed, Creed,” I finally say, and Creed nods.

“Yes, that would be the better option—Oh! Right, my bad.” His face flushes pink, and he moves around me, closer to his bed. “Uh… can I just turn around so we can keep talking? I promise not to look,” he whispers, looking at me with a hopeful expression.

“Yeah. No peeking.” Creed moves his hand to his heart, then makes a crossing motion before jumping up on his bed, facing the wall.

I watch him for a moment, making sure he doesn't turn around, then quickly step out of my dirty clothes and roll them into a ball, setting them by the tub. Dipping a toe in, I sigh in bliss as the lukewarm water envelops my foot, then leg, before I sink entirely into the tub. The water level rises as I sit, brushing over my breasts as I lean back with a happy groan.

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