Page 25 of Forgotten Monsters
Cole’s amber gaze prickles wherever it travels.
Fire swells in my chest, the lines visible under my skin.
I pull the top over my head, and Cole draws in a sharp intake of breath. My reflection in the mirror justifies his claim that I’m a filthy, scrawny thing. I’ve lost weight on the boat, but I made it through the Underworld sea. Each of my visible rib should celebrate that victory.
My flames swirl, unable to pierce the binding spell.
I snap off the bra and cower inside the bubbles, the thick foam shielding me from Cole’s gaze. The hot water feels…sublime. I haven’t had more than a toilet-shower combo in weeks.
My mind reels as it considers how many showers and baths Cole has had in my absence. He doesn’t look at all inclined to join me, stiff as he is with a dark expression on his face. The kiss we shared earlier appears to be long forgotten.
I grab the soap on the ledge of the tub and start rubbing myself down, making a show of it. When I wash my breasts, I catch him wiggle slightly in the mirror. A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.
I close my eyes and immerse myself completely.
After our fight, I tried to stay mad at him. I was furious that Darkwood double-crossed me and justified Cole’s actions. I’m still unnerved at how effortlessly he played me into drinking the damn potion, but as I am now, naked in front of the Fae King…I can’t help but wish we could put it all behind us.
I’ll stow my anger inside one of these war crates and unpack it later.
Right now, I want to seduce my estranged husband into my bath and kiss him until the distance between us thins and pops like one of the bubbles stuck to my skin.
Cole grips the underside of the vanity, his arms close to his body, his hands tucked underneath his elbows like he’s holding himself off from reaching for me. I switch sides to meet his stare.
A low rumble passes his lips.
Water glides along my arms, and my dark curls stick to my back and neck. My chest heaves at the captive fire in my body.
I stick one leg out of the bath and scrub it down, then the other. The bar of soap slowly travels past the kink of my knee to my thigh and plunges past the surface of the water to the space between my legs.
Cole’s nostrils flare. He inches forward, and his gaze slips down the curve of my neck to my breasts. He schools it back up with a flash of teeth. “Stop it.”
I hold an arm out. “Come here.”
“Enough games. Dry yourself off.”
My forehead creases. “Games?”
The hard clench of his jaw allows one, rushed breath. “It’s been eleven years and four months since you stepped through that mirror.”
My arm falls inside the tub with a loudplop.
All the confidence and bravado drains out of me in one cold, tight inhale. Fuck.
Eleven years…
I can’t—
“Eleven years?” I squeak. I expected two—maybe four. Five was my worst-case scenario, and only because of Cole’s scars.
Water splashes to the carpet as I abruptly stand up, snatch a towel from the rack, and wrap it around my frame. “Where is my dad? Is he alright? What happened to Oz and Darkwood? Did you check on Lydia? What about Flynn, where is he?” I search the room like I expect the blond Fae to materialize at the mention of his name. Questions and fears mingle on my breath, my brain going ten miles a minute, the implications of the news jumbling into chaos.
I consider my grumpy husband in a new light. Did Cole meet someone else? Is there another Fae queen?
“Sire?” Jameson calls from afar. “The vampire is here.”
“Let him in,” Cole’s eyes never leave me, the weight of them sparking unhealthy tremors in my flesh.
Even with his long brown hair slicked back behind his ears and his soldier’s uniform, Trent Darkwood doesn’t look so different. He enters the room with a makeshift blindfold tied around his head.
