Page 22 of The Hive Queen

I run my hands over his hard chest, fiddling with the buttons. “Never is a long time to promise.”

“I don’t like the way Bailey gets under my skin.” His hands drop to my hips. “And I’m not embarrassed at needing to call you in for help. You have far more experience than I do, and a wealth of knowledge I can never hope to attain. My superiors know that, too, which is what has me worried.”

That should be the least of his concerns. “Bailey thinks that the JTFPI should be reabsorbed into the regular police force. Worry about that over your superiors trying to put pressure on my team to sign permanent contracts with the government.”

“I have more than enough worry to cover both bases, but thank you for telling me.” He kisses my forehead. “Now, get into the bath while I grab an ice pack for your bee sting. It will help reduce the swelling.”

A shudder goes through me. “No ice.”

“Yes, ice.” He turns me toward the bath and gives me a light swat on the ass. “Some ibuprofen, too.”

As he strides from the room, I undress and slip into the scalding hot water. A sigh of appreciation escapes me, and I lean against the sloped wall, then scoot down until the water covers my lips.

Why was I worrying about either of them losing interest? I’m not usually insecure when it comes to the others. We’re all strong, independent people who are together because we love and treasure one another. Not because we’re cursed to be together.

The warmth of the water makes me realize how cold I was as my bones thaw. It’s been too long since I’ve embraced fire. That’s probably why I’ve been mopey and feeling off.

Over the centuries, I’ve grown accustomed to the small licks of flame Marc releases when he touches me, feeding the empty well inside.

It began to drain during his long absence when Darius ran off with his body. Since his return, the amulet he wears siphons off his excess, protecting him from burning out. But that also means that he has to focus on releasing fire now. Something he’s been avoiding.

Or had that always been the case, and it was Darius feeding me those flames?

When Marc and I first met, he had been on the verge of dying. I had worked with my mother to offset his fire, but I couldn’t take as much as he needed to give. Only once Darius took up residence inside of him did he stop needing help to control his powers.

Had we ever really talked about how I needed those interactions every bit as much as he did? Darius had known. It was what started our courtship all those centuries ago.

My eyes shift to the fireplace, and I lift a dripping arm from the water to reach up and slip my hand into the flames. They curl around my fingers in a welcoming caress, then sink into my flesh and race along my bones, igniting life within me once more.

The blaze spreads outward, heating my body. Around me, the water in the bathtub bubbles, the small bursts tickling my nose. My eyes close, the building fire lulling me into a quiet, meditative state.

Behind my eyelids, the world turns red, light flickering in a dance older than time.

“That’s enough, love,” Flint says gently, and something soft wraps around my wrist, pulling my hand from the fire.

My eyes crack open once more, and I glare up at him. A fluffy sock covers the hand wrapped around my wrist, and he directs my arm back into the tub as the water stops boiling.

He wags a finger at me. “Don’t pout. You know the fireplace is too much for you.”

I blow bubbles at him in response.

His attention shifts to the doorway, and he shakes his head. “If you give that to her now, it’ll just melt.”

When I glance toward the hall, I see Sharpe standing with an ice pack in his hands.

Concern in his eyes, he glances from the fire to me. “Is everything okay?”

With a press of my feet against the bathtub wall, I rise to a sitting position. “Don’t worry, there was no risk of me going full firebird. I was just a little cold.”

“Thankfully, I have an even better solution than sticking your hand in the fireplace.” Flint leans down next to the tub before straightening with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. “Fresh and scalding, just as my lady likes it.”

I grasp the mug and sip from the brim. Rich, hot liquid slides down my throat to pool in my stomach, and I moan with appreciation. The caffeine buzzes inside of me, tickling at my awakened synapses.

Flint’s right. This is exactly what I needed.

Sharpe vanishes from the doorway but returns a moment later, a plate in his hands. He grabs the tub-table, settles the wide board across the basin, then sets the plate in front of me. A burger from Hoppers rests on the plate, surrounded by a mound of fries.

“Food will help as well. I bet you haven’t eaten since breakfast.” He pulls the bench over to the tub and settles onto it. “I reheated your dinner, so it should be nice and warm.”

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