Page 304 of Born of Blood and Ash

“Uh-huh,” Jadis cried.

“She’ll be better,” Nektas assuredthem, somehow quieting them both with three words. “She will.”

Reaver lay beside me, still holding my paw. Jadis managed toget herself between him and me, curling into a little ball against my stomach.Their warmth calmed the unending rush of thoughts, allowing me to slip intoquiet numbness.

Nektas stayed where he was. Ididn’t know how he did it. He didn’t leave once. Not even to take care ofpersonal needs. He stayed, simply stroking my head. No one else entered thechamber. No one tried to talk to me. I didn’t know how much time passed beforemy body and mind simply gave out. I fell asleep. I didn’t dream. There wasjust…nothing.

Until cool fingers threaded through my fur and the scent ofcitrus and fresh air reached me. “Liessa,”Ash called softly. “Come back to me.”

CHAPTERFORTY-FIVE

Ash knelt before me, his fingers siftingthrough the fur beneath my chin as he lifted my head. Exhaustion was etchedinto the lines of his face and the shadows under his stunning eyes. “Please,”he said, the sound of his voice raw, several strands of shoulder-length hairslipping forward to kiss his jaw. “Please come back to me.”

His words were like magic. And as his gaze held mine, Iwilled myself to shift back into my mortal form with a shudder.

“Ash,” I rasped, my throat scratchy.

He made a sound that seemed to come from the depths of hissoul. Gathering me in his arms, he sat back, pulling me between his legs andagainst his chest. Pain roared in the moment I returned to myself, and howtightly Ash held me didn’t help. But I ignored it, needing to be close to him.Neither of us spoke as he held me. As I clung to him. I had no idea where Nektas and the younglings had gone, but I knew we werealone.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck. I couldn’t seemto get close enough. I needed to feel his heart beating against my chest. Whenhis arm loosened around my waist, I whimpered.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “I’m notgoing anywhere. I’m just getting you a blanket. You’re cold.”

A moment later, soft fur draped over my shoulders, and hisarm returned to my waist. He clasped the back of my head, his fingers curlinginto the tangled strands of my hair.

“Sera,” he whispered, his large body trembling. He tightenedhis arms around me. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

My fingers clenched the soft linen of his shirt. The breathI took burned my throat and nose. The blanket slipped down my back as I startedto pull away.

Ash’s inhale was rough and stunted as he stared at me. Ididn’t know what had caused that reaction until I looked down. Under the driedblood, there were bruises up and down my arms, some of them still an ugly shadeof purplish-red. Others were an array of blues. Strangely, my lower stomach wasthe only area I could see that didn’t appear marked. Though I wondered what mythroat looked like based on how he was staring at it. But then his gaze loweredto my chest. The bruise there was one of those ugly shades, darker than theareola.

Ash became rigid, his flesh thinning. “He touched you.” Thetendons in his neck stood out starkly. “He hurt you.”

I didn’t deny it. I didn’t say anything. I closed thedistance between us and rested my cheek on his shoulder.

Ash didn’t move for what felt like an hour, but then hetugged the blanket back up and folded his arms around me again. He didn’t holdme as tightly, though. “I want a Healer to look you over. The bruises should begone by now.”

“No.”

“Sera—”

“I don’t want a Healer. I’m fine. I just used a lot of eather.” My voice still sounded hoarse. “I would like abath.”

Ash wasn’t happy about my choice, but he relented. “I can dothat.” He kissed the top of my head. “Hold on.”

He rose, carrying me into the bathing chamber. I could’vewalked, but I didn’t protest. He set me on the ledge and then placed his handin the now-cold water, heating it. I shrugged off the blanket and stepped in. Abreathy sigh left me as I sank down and reached for the soap.

“Let me.” Ash had rolled up his sleeves. He took the soap,setting it aside before cupping his hands in the water.

Warm liquid cascaded over my skin, and I watched crimsonribbons swirl away from my body, staining the water. Ash’s hands were gentle,traveling across the planes of my back, washing away the blood.

He had to be exhausted. He likely wanted nothing more thanto wash the last two days from his body, but he took his time, runninghis soapy hands down both of my arms. He took care with my hands and fingers,erasing any traces of blood that lingered. He didn’t speak, but so much wassaid in how he methodically rinsed my hair, his fingers combing through thetangled curls with a tenderness I didn’t feel I deserved. Each time the waterturned pink with evidence of the night’s violence, he drained the tub, only torefill it with clear, clean warmth from the unused buckets that had beenbrought in. He washed every part of me twice, almost as if he sought to cleanseaway more than just the physical evidence of all that had happened. It was likehe was also trying to remove the stains upon my soul, offering absolution I wastoo shattered to ask for.

He lifted me from the tub, and I caught only a glimpse of myreflection as he dried me off. My face was a mess. Bruises marred the skinaround my mouth, and my throat showed deep fingerprints.

Ash took me back into the bedchamber and placed me on thebed. He replaced the towel he had wrapped around me with a blanket made ofsoft-spun yarn.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, brushing his lips over myforehead. “Rest.”

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