Page 27 of Tangled in Red

The bathroom wasn’t just clean. It was gorgeous. Gleaming marble countertops, a rainfall showerhead, and actual folded towels on a heated rack. For a room in a biker bar, this place was practically the Ritz.

Brett flicked on the light and caught his reflection in the mirror. His hair stuck out in every direction, and dark circles hung under his eyes. The contrast between his pale skin and Diablo’s bronzed perfection felt almost comical.

“And he probably wants to sleep with you tonight,” he muttered to himself, unsure if the fluttery feeling in his stomach was excitement or terror. Maybe both.

The shower beckoned, promising hot water and a moment to process everything that had happened. Brett peeled off his shirt, wincing as the fabric dragged across his sore shoulder. Twisting to get a better look, he examined the purplish bruise blossoming where Frank had gripped him.

“Asshole,” he muttered, letting the shirt drop to the floor.

His pants and boxers followed, then Brett stepped into the shower stall, fiddling with the fancy controls until water rushed from the oversized showerhead. Hot streams pummeled his skin as steam filled the glass enclosure.

“Jesus,” he gasped, adjusting the temperature. “Talk about water pressure.”

For several minutes, he just stood there, letting heat seep into his muscles, easing the knots that had formed over the day. He turned his injured shoulder directly into the spray, hissing at first then sighing as the warmth penetrated the soreness.

Brett grabbed a bottle of body wash from a built-in shelf, squirting some into his palm. The scent wasn’t overwhelming, just clean with hints of something woody. He worked it into a lather, careful around his bruises.

His gaze drifted to his wrist, where Jack’s thick fingers had left distinct marks. Five perfect ovals of bruised skin. He traced them lightly, anger flaring in his chest.

“Not tonight,” he said firmly. “Don’t give them any more of your headspace.”

Tonight belonged to him and Diablo. Whatever Diablo was. Wolf shifter with two beasts. That part still made Brett’s head spin, but somehow it didn’t scare him as much as it should have. It was pretty messed up that someone who wasn’t even human made Brett feel safe when his own uncle terrified him.

After thoroughly rinsing off, he reluctantly turned off the water. The fancy towel felt impossibly soft against his skin as he dried himself, careful around his tender spots.

“Crap,” he muttered, realizing he hadn’t brought a change of clothes. The thought of putting on his sweaty outfit made him grimace.

With no other choice, Brett wrapped the towel around his waist, securing it with a tuck at his hip. His reflection caught his attention again. His damp red hair was darker now, freckles standing out against flushed skin from the hot shower.

Taking a deep breath, he cracked open the door. “Hey, um, any chance I could borrow something to sleep in?”

Diablo glanced at him, his eyes darkening as they traveled over Brett’s exposed chest and shoulders. “Drawer on the left. Take whatever fits.”

Keeping one hand firmly on his towel, Brett quickly moved to the dresser, feeling eyes on him the entire way. Most of the clothes would swallow him whole, but he found a black t-shirt that might work as a nightshirt.

“Thank.” He ducked back into the bathroom.

The shirt hung to mid-thigh when he pulled it on, sleeves reaching his elbows. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up,” he muttered, tugging the fabric back over shoulder when it slid down.

Gathering his courage, Brett stepped back into the bedroom, feeling oddly vulnerable despite being more covered than he’d been with just the towel.

“Better?” Diablo asked, voice rough around the edges.

“Much.” Brett hovered uncertainly at the foot of the bed. “That shower is incredible.”

“Matias doesn’t skimp.” Diablo patted the space beside him. “Come here, cariño.”

Heart thudding, Brett crawled onto the mattress, keeping space between them. The bed dipped under Diablo’s weight, naturally rolling Brett a few inches closer.

“Sorry about how this night turned out,” Diablo said, his attention seemingly fixed on the TV, where some action movie played with the volume low.

Brett shrugged then winced as his shoulder protested. “Not exactly what I expected, but definitely memorable.”

Diablo’s gaze snapped to Brett’s shoulder, eyes narrowing. “That hurting you?”

“It’s fine,” Brett lied automatically.

Without warning, Diablo reached out, his fingertips brushing the edge of the T-shirt sleeve. “May I?”

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