Page 114 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Get undressed,” he instructs, his voice low and commanding. “And into the tub.”
I swallow hard, my heart racing.
Legion picks up a washcloth, turning it over before looking at me through lowered lashes.
“The Earl is waiting, Willow,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “And I’m not leaving until you are cleaned, fed, healed, and resting.”
I nod, still fixated on the water.
“That tub isn’t big enough for both of us,” I observe, a hint of disappointment slipping into my voice.
He chuckles softly, a sound that surprises me. These glimpses of vulnerability feel like rare gifts, ones I doubt even his hive sees.
“Quickly,” he says gently. He turns his back to me.
I undress and slide into the bath. A sigh escapes me as the heat soothes my aching muscles.
Before facing me again, Legion takes a deep breath as if steeling himself. He kneels beside the tub and dips his hand into the water, his eyes locking with mine. “Are you well?”
“I think as long as I’m not alone, I’m not afraid,” I admit.
“You’ll never be alone again,” he murmurs, almost to himself. He gently massages my foot, healing the blisters and aches. I let out an embarrassingly blissful sound.
He bathes me with reverence, swiping the cloth over my body. The scrape contrasts with the easy glide of water. His scent blooms thicker in the steam—something sweet, floral, peppery,and with amber undertones. I wasn’t aware a scent could feel warm, but it glides into my lungs like whiskey.
I don’t want to ruin the beauty of this moment by saying something stupid or needy. Like asking why he keeps his distance from me. The worry seems so unfounded when he’s like this. There’s something sweet and unguarded in his eyes. The look on his face is hard to explain, but it’s almost like taking care of me is refilling the well of his soul. He worships me. Is energized by me.
Once he’s tended to all my wounds, the wall between us slowly rebuilds. He dries his hands and dons his jacket wordlessly. He holds out a towel for me, but his eyes don’t meet mine as I step out. As I step into his arms, his gaze fixes somewhere over my shoulder, near the window. He wraps the towel around me. His hands rest briefly on my shoulders, tense with unspoken emotion. Then, the warmth of his body disappears, and he mutters a reminder about bolting the door before slipping out.
The room feels colder without his presence. I stand there, wrapped in the towel, water droplets running down my legs. The rose scent from the bath overtakes his lingering aroma, pushed in by the crisp night breeze. I shut the window with a frown, mourning the loss of his scent.
“Willow,” he warns from outside.
I startle. “Yes?”
“Bolt the door.” I move to obey but pause, my hand on the door’s surface. “What if I fall asleep and can’t let you back in?”
“Then I will wait out here until you wake.”
A smile tugs at my lips. When the bolt’s heavyweight slides into place, I hear his footsteps recede. I dry myself and slip into the bed—the only bed—and try not to fall asleep, savoring the lingering warmth of his touch and the memory of his unguarded gaze.
Chapter 47
Legion
This ugly thing crawling in my belly is sickening. All I’ve ever wanted and needed is within my reach, yet still so far away. I hear myself tell my hive time and time again to wait, my tone patient. I was confident that events would turn out precisely as Varen had predicted, in our favor, happiness and peace.
With her at the epicenter.
But we never foresaw Titania’s theft of her magic or the following cascade of events. In all potential futures, I never imagined wanting her like this—like my skin aches from holding desire at bay, like my blood roars in my ears so loud it competes with the wind.
I arrive at the location Larkspur gave me and rap swiftly on the door.
Waiting. It was once my source of comfort, but now it is a torture device. Waiting gives me the scent of her rose-kissed skin. It lingers on my fingers, wraps itself around my heart, my mind, and my cock. I inhale. My lashes flutter as I command my blood to cool. It will get much worse than this.
The battle has only begun.
The door opens. He lets me in. I look around, using every preternatural sense I own to check for danger—not that I expect it. Styx has crept through this Radiant’s mind and scoured through the dark places. Larkspur is remarkably ignorant of everything endangering our safety.
