Page 59 of Hell Gate

“There’s no first aid kit. This will have to do.” I shove aside everything around us and focus on him.

He remains surprisingly quiet while I fuss over him, obliging without argument when I unbutton his shirt and help him out of it. I wet my lips, sparing a moment to admire his physique while I carefully dab a damp cloth to his sides to clean them.

The abstract ink on his arms moves in reaction when I brush my fingertips over his abs for balance to reach his other side. Intrigued, I repeat the touch, lower and the tattoos shift faster. I keep working diligently until it’s clear he’s not going to die if I don’t stop the bleeding. Curiosity gets the best of me and I trace the whorls covering his arms, the smoke-like ink morphing into shadowy outlines. The tattoos respond to me, fascinating me when they seem to curl around my touch.

I tilt my head. “What does that feel like? Can you control the movement, or is it just part of magic tattoos?”

He remains silent, nostrils flared as he scents the air. There’s an unreadable look in his eye when I chase one of the smoky shapes to the inside of his elbow, a thrum echoing inside me when I catch it. His chest expands with a deep, shuddering breath. I tear my hand away, worried I’ve hurt him. Biting my lip, I resume tending to his injuries.

“This is pointless.” Other than the mild interjection, he does nothing to stop me, tracking everywhere I touch him like he doesn’t want to miss a second of it.

“Why? Don’t tell me some bullshit about being too stubborn to accept help.” I drop the bloodied cloth in the murky water, frowning at how bad the wounds look. “Just shut up and let me repay the favor of saving your life, asshole.”

His lips twitch at the almost fond way the derogatory term comes out. I clear my throat, busying myself with wrapping his torso with bandages.

“I’m not going to die. Demons have the ability to heal. This drained my energy, that’s all.” He rests his head against the cabinet. “It will take some time to replenish my strength.”

“How can you replenish your strength?” I pull a face. “You don’t strike me as the bed rest type. Should I get you Powerade or something?”

The smile he gives me is feral, fangs peeking out. He leans closer, erasing the small distance between us. “When in the mortal realm without access to the natural power that sustains us in the underworld, two ways. One, consuming souls.”

Usually the thought pisses me off, but the way he traps me in his stare sparks a wildfire that grows from an ember and quickly engulfs me. Gulping, I whisper, “And two?”

Vale’s hand skates over my hip, traveling up my side, thumb brushing the edge of my breast while his attention falls to my parted lips. This time I’m the one that inches closer, our hot exhales mingling.

“Feeding on another kind of energy,” he rasps, tracing the curve of my breast maddeningly slow. His fingers dig in. “Like what you feel between you and—your mate.”

Matthias. Or does he mean Alder? My mind flickers between both of them. He lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around my throat, wicked gaze promising me sinful bliss if I give in to the temptation. It’s happening again. The invisible force tied around my heart drawing me closer, and in different directions. I want this. I want to kiss Valerian.

No, I need to kiss him. More than I need my next breath. My entire being urges me to close the scant gap.

Before our lips touch, he stills, then glances around.We need to go. We should get back to the others. I smell the blood of the witch’s coven on these demons. They’re from the assassin’s guild.

I blink. His voice filtered through my head, but his mouth didn’t move. “Did—Did you just talk inside my head? Like, telepathically?”

Shock flits across his face before he nods sternly. “Alder can control consciousness. Matthias has the ability to persuade the mind. My gift is communicating without speaking aloud. Come on. It’s not safe to stay here.”

“Wait, can you read my mind?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” He takes my hand to help him to his feet, clenching his jaw. “Only with a special bonded connection, like the one between fated mates, is capable of creating a true mental link.”

He pauses at the door to pass a devious look over me. A moment later, my mind floods with the mental image of exactly how I looked from his point of view in the back seat of the car, riding the fingers Matthias buried inside me with abandon.

“Dude,” I hiss.

He smirks. “As you can see, I can push thoughts into your head.” He stops me from patting him down for the keys. “No. I’m driving. Get in.”

I’m too occupied with the buzzing warmth spreading through me at the image he put in my head to argue. Once we get off Lane’s property, he floors it. I’m not a religious person, but I glance back and offer another silent apology for getting her killed.

“Why didn’t you talk to me that way before?”

His hand moves from the gearshift, reaching for me. It falls short and he balls his fist. “I had no interest.”

The curt brush off feels forced. This hidden skill explains how the three of them seem to get by with few words sometimes. When they’ve fought off the demons after us, they move as a unit despite how different they are.

As we race away from the cottage, part of me wishes we could have stayed in that stolen moment longer so I could know what it’s like to kiss him.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

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