Page 22 of Red Dreams

I know what’s behind that door. The bathroom’s luxury feels like another form of mockery now. Veined marble in deep greens and golds that I've studied through tears, memorizing patterns while fighting to keep my composure during “supervised visits.” The massive soaking tub dominates one wall, its brass faucets shaped like siren heads, their patina matching the oxidized sconces. The shower spans an entire wall behind heavy glass etched with scenes of storms and shipwrecks. Fitting since that's where Cassie's men held me under the spray until I couldn'tbreathe. Even the heated floor was cruel, its warmth seeping into my bare feet while I waited for the shivering to stop.

Everything in there speaks of wealth and comfort, but all I can envision is another room where Cassie turned luxury into a weapon.

“Layla,” Kaden prods gently beside me. “It’s all right now.”

He squeezes my hand while he swings the door open.

The shower draws my eye first—all those multiple rainfall showerheads pelted me like frozen bullets. But…

Kaden turns the faucet until steam curls invitingly from the fogged panes.

He draws me closer, his touch impossibly gentle for hands that render so much violence. “The water's warm. And you're shaking.”

“I don't know if I can...”

My voice pitches, the admission burning my throat.

His fingers thread through mine, steady despite the bruises and cuts on them.

“You're safe with me.”

With infinite care, he helps me shed his shirt, his touch lingering on each new expanse of skin revealed. I tremble, though not from cold, as his fingertips graze the curve of my shoulder and the swell of my breast.

He sheds his own pants efficiently, uncaring of his own nudity. I can't help but take another drink. His body is incredible, my dark warrior god made into flesh.

Kaden guides me into the spray, his hands never leaving me.

I stop when my head is under the warm water, the water sluicing over my skin, turning pink as it swirls down the drain as the grime and blood wash away.

Kaden reaches for a bottle of shampoo—an incongruously delicate glass flacon I was never allowed to touch—and pools a measure into his palm. With tender fingers, he works the latherthrough my matted hair, careful of the tangles and tender spots on my scalp. I lean into his chest, my eyes fluttering closed as a sigh escapes my lips. The scent of sandalwood and amber envelops us, chasing away the lingering odors of blood and hurt and fear.

He guides my head back under the spray, his hand cupping my neck to shield the soap from my eyes as he rinses my hair clean. I keep my eyes closed, focusing only on the sensation of him against me and the heat of the water comforting us both.

When he’s satisfied my hair is rinsed clean, Kaden reaches for a washcloth and a bar of creamy soap. He works up a rich lather before smoothing the cloth over my skin in long, soothing strokes. It’s so needed that I ignore the sting of soap against my cuts.

Starting at my shoulders, he drags the cloth across my collarbones and down over the swells of my breasts. I shiver as he circles each nipple, the rough fabric a delicious contrast to his gentle touch. He continues down my stomach, tracing the ridges of my abused ribs and the hollow of my navel.

I hold my breath as he sinks to his knees before me, the washcloth skating over the V of my hips and the tops of my thighs.

Logical Me knows he’s not doing this for pleasure, that Kaden just wants to soothe and wash away what trauma he can, but when he looks up at me through a veil of wet lashes, his blue eyes molten, all I want is him. The tenderness in his touch ignites something deeper than our circumstances, something that makes me forget where I am.

His fingers still against my thigh.

“Wraithling.”

My name comes out as both a warning and a question wrapped in need.

8

LAYLA

“Please.” I thread my fingers through Kaden’s wet hair as he kneels before me in the shower. “It’s been so long. Make me feel something else. Something that's just us.”

He presses his forehead against my pelvis, breathing hard. “This isn't why I?—”

“I know.”

And I do. He wanted to wash away cruelty and nothing more. “But I need you.”

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