Slick (The Grayverse #1)

CHAPTER NINE

The first hint that I’m not alone is the brush of a fingertip along the bottom of my foot.

Spending hours in a slick suit has made me immune to most forms of touch, but I still have my ticklish spots. And the soft underside of my foot is a huge one. My toes curl in protest, and I rocket out of the water, sending a wave of scented bubbles over the edge of the tub. I catch a glimpse of the most glamorous man I’ve ever seen – his hair gleaming like polished bronze, with bright hazel eyes beneath sweeping dark brows, and cheekbones that lead my gaze down to a soft, sensuous mouth. He’s in a white dress shirt, his skin like silky caramel at the open collar, and a black bowtie is dangling around his neck. His pink lips pop open in surprise, because the next moment, he’s grabbing at the side of the tub as he slips on the flooded tiles.

“What the freaking goddess? ”

I try to catch his flailing arm, but his feet go out from under him, and he crashes to the floor. The next sound is a strangled whimper, and I brace myself as I peer over the edge of the tub. “Are you okay?”

“Pretty sure my ass is broken.” He winces as he lifts his hips a few inches to rub the bruised muscle. “Give a guy a little warning before you burst out of the bathtub like Venus from her clam shell, okay?”

I think about that for a moment, my hot cheek pressed to the cold enamel. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Hmmm.” He sits up slowly, a grin starting to form on his handsome face, before his eyes narrow in concern. “Well, shit. You’re as overcooked as Luscious’ lips.”

I follow his gaze down my body and realize he’s right. My skin has flushed a dark pink from the scaling bath. “I feel a bit… woozy.”

“Well, don’t die in my bathtub!” He’s on his feet in a surprisingly graceful move, snatching up a silk-covered stool and tossing it into his shower. He spins the taps on, shoving his arm under the spray to check the temperature, then holds his dripping hand out to me, those hazel eyes fierce. “Come on. You need to cool off. Fast.”

He’s a distracting sight, but I’m gaping at the stool as its pale gold upholstery turns a muddy brown. “You'll ruin it!”

He flaps his long-fingered hand, then shoves it at me; insistent. “It’s just a chair. And it’ll be a worthy sacrifice if it means saving you from passing out and cracking your skull open.”

I’ve never heard someone speak like him, a strange mix of gallant and brutal. “I’m okay.”

I’m not, but my body temperature is the least of my problems.

“You’re dehydrated,” he replies, then shoves up his damp sleeves, exposing leanly muscled forearms. He now extends both hands in my direction, his fingers twitching. “Fair warning. If I have to fish you out, I will.”

The tone is threatening, but there’s a glimmer of humor in his eyes that makes my toes tingle. “Alright. I probably overdid the hot water.”

“And the bath bombs,” he notes, but his entire focus is on helping me to my feet, bubbles sliding off me as I step gingerly over the side of the tub. His grip tightens as I make contact with the slippery floor, but he doesn’t try to touch other parts of me, like some collectors do when I climb off their tables. In fact, he barely seems to notice my body, other than the state of my raw, pink skin. “You’re like a lobster that was marinated in spiced wine.”

Lobster? I vaguely remember seeing a dancing lobster somewhere, but I have no idea what spiced wine is. Or ordinary wine, for that matter.

My head spins a little as he leads me across the three, slippery feet to the shower. Unlike the tub, it’s trailer-sized, and I shiver as the first cooling drops hit my skin. My knees start to tremble, and I sink onto the stool in relief. “Oh. That feels good,” I admit, tipping my head back so the cool water peppers my face. I open my mouth to drink a little, but the next moment, my savior is handing me a chilled bottle of water, watching closely as I gulp it down. My stomach clenches, a warning sign I’ve pushed my body too far, and I lean sideways until my shoulder connects with the wall. “Uh… This is much better. I could sit here all day.”

“Nope,” he says, reaching in to turn off the water. He ignores my pout, grabbing a fluffy towel off the rack and wrapping it around me. “Unless you’re a mermaid who’s wandered into my trailer, I’m taking away your soaking privileges.”

Mermaid I know, only because Dex is a fan. After a particularly grueling deposit, he likes to sit on the edge of the tub, massaging my aching shoulders while he spins tales about the besotted sailor who stole a ship from the pirate king so he could follow his mermaid to the edge of the world… A memory that makes my eyes fill with tears, a horrible clenching feeling burning in my chest.

Dex.

Where is he now? Did he escape that clinic, or did they go back and hurt him, like they threatened to do?

“Okay, please don’t look like that.” He tightens the towel around me then takes a careful step back. “I’m Rowan Vale. This is my trailer, and as long as you’re here, you’re under my protection, okay?”

I sniff, willing the water back into my eyes, because a statement like that shouldn’t be met with tears. “I’m Diana,” I tell him quietly. “And I’m sorry for barging in here without an invitation.”

“That’s okay, Diana.” He gives me a soft smile and then gestures behind him. “Come sit while I dig out some gel for your skin.”

He leads me into his room, guiding me to the edge of his bed before returning to dig noisily through a drawer. A moment later he reappears, tube in hand, but when he gets to within touching distance, he stops abruptly, sniffing the air. “Whoa. Diana, are you Luscious' little sister, by any chance?”

My bruised heart gives an indignant thump. “No. I only met her today.”

I don’t add that it was one of the worst meetings of my life, but Rowan still frowns, like he can sense the undertone. “I didn’t mean to insult you. If you’re related, you’re obviously the upgraded version…. But you smell an awful lot like her.”

I narrow my eyes, watching as he squeezes a dab of glossy gel onto his fingers. “ She smells like me ,” I correct him. “But you’re right about her being awful, because I never said she could steal my slick.”

Rowan drops the tube, his mouth popping open. “What?”

I reach down to collect the gel, but instead of handing it back, I lift it to my nose and give a tentative sniff. It smells faintly of fresh, green things, and I cycle through my memory of omega scents at The Serenity Center, trying to find a match. There’s a hint of Astrid from A block. Maybe a touch of Cara from C block? They both always smelled so refreshing, but now the scent leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I scowl as I thrust the tube back at him. “Is everything stolen? I know those omegas.”

“Excuse me?”

“Luscious said they put our slick into perfumes and candles.” I wave the tube at him. “And lotions like this one, right?”

“Who does?” Rowan sinks beside me on the bed, so fascinated by the conversation, he’s forgotten about the gel coating his fingers.

When a blob slips onto the comforter beside me, I wipe it up with the corner of my towel. Even now, the urge to preserve our slick is hard to resist. “The Serenity Center. Only Luscious told me it’s really a lie. They’re using us, when I thought they were helping find our alphas.”

I think of the other things she told me, like the fact my father sold me into slick slavery, but I shake my head. I can’t deal with that right now, not when Dex and Kane aren’t here to hold me tight and make it better.

Rowan must come to the same conclusion, because he quickly wipes his fingers on his jeans and gets to his feet. “Okay, I think we need caffeine for this conversation. And clothes. Definitely clothes.”

He crosses the room to a glossy wooden dresser, pulling a t-shirt and sweatpants out of a drawer. “These are a little big, but loose probably works until your skin cools off.” He hands me the clothes, that twinkle of humor gone from his gaze as he backs to the door. “Why don’t you get dressed while I make the coffee?”

I nod, waiting until he’s left before getting dressed. I have to tighten the drawstring on the sweatpants and the t-shirt slips off my shoulder, but the fabric is soft and sweet-smelling against my sensitive skin. I think of fresh-baked cookies and smile, until I remember I can’t really trust my nose anymore. It might be Rowan’s scent, but what if he uses a laundry powder laced with slick?

My stomach feels tight and bruised as I head into the kitchen. Rowan is leaning on the counter, a frown on his face as he stares at the steaming cup in his hand. He’s changed into another white shirt, and as he straightens, that cookie scent swirls around him. “Is it you? Are you the cookies smell, or did you get it from a tube, like Luscious?”

“It’s all me,” he says quietly, his bright eyes serious. “I would never steal another omega’s scent.”

I cross my arms tight over my stomach, my gaze dropping to the steaming cup. “What’s that?”

“Coffee.” He pushes it towards me, gesturing to a stool on the other side of the counter. “There’s extra creamer and sugar if you want it.”

I perch on the edge of the stool, leaning over the cup for a sniff. It smells nutty and maybe a little bitter, and I pluck a cube from the sugar bowl, crumbling it in my fingers. Sugar was tightly controlled in the center, and I stare at the crystals as they cling to my skin. “I’m not allowed caffeine,” I tell him quietly. “They say it dilutes the purity of our slick.”

“So, you’ve never tasted coffee?” His brows pull down in a sharp V. “Well, that’s definitely a crime.”

I shrug, leaning forward and sipping carefully at the hot drink. It tastes dark and murky, coating my tongue in a bitterness far more powerful than its scent. “Ugh!” I push the cup aside and quickly suck the sugar sprinkles off my fingers, wrinkling my nose at Rowan. “ That’s coffee?”

“Yep, but it’s an acquired taste. Maybe we should switch to hot chocolate.” Rowan sounds apologetic, but I can see the edge of a grin pulling at his lips as he turns to rummage in the cabinets. He pulls out a tin and measures a scoop into a cup, adding hot water and a sprinkle of something he takes from a jar. “What else haven’t you tasted?”

I think about that as I pop another sugar cube in my mouth. “How can I know what I've never had?”

Rowan casts a thoughtful glance over his shoulder. “Hmmm. Good point. Maybe that’s a question to explore when we break out the tequila.” I just shrug, hoping that tequila tastes better than coffee. I’ve heard a lot about the beverage of the years, and the disappointment runs deep. “What about something to eat?” he suggests. “I’m not fully stocked, but I could probably rustle something up.”

I lean forward, studying a hardback book he has propped on the counter. It’s resting on its own stand, the pages parted to reveal what I’m pretty sure is a plate of chicken, although it’s hard to tell under the swirls of sauce. “Like this?”

“Ha! I wish. That’s just there to taunt me.” He turns a couple of pages, looking longingly at a chocolate cake with a river of silky red running through the middle. “You haven't seen a cookbook before?”

“They might have one in the kitchen, but our food never looked like this.” I watch as he flicks through another couple of pages and look up at him in admiration. “You can make all these things?”

A touch of pink appears on his high cheekbones. “Well, I'm no Julia Childs, but I can do a mean grilled cheese.”

I sit back, trying to put a picture to the name. “I don’t think I’ve had that before.”

“Good. Then your expectations are suitably low.” He smirks as he opens the refrigerator and starts stacking ingredients on the bench. As he arranges them on an oven tray, another steaming cup appears in front of me, but this time it smells sweet. When I take a sip, I give an appreciative moan, and his smirk turns to a satisfied grin. “You can’t go wrong with chocolate and marshmallows.”

I’m too busy chasing a glob of gooey sugar with my tongue to answer, but when I glance up, Rowan is staring at me, his blush now spreading all the way to the tips of my ears. “So, food porn is really a thing,” he mutters.

I’ve decided that porn is a topic best left untouched, watching quietly as Rowan feeds the tray under the grill. While he’s wiping down the counter, he casts little glances my way, and I can almost smell his curiosity in the air. “So, when you said Luscious stole your slick, you mean she was a customer? Of a slick factory?”

I jerk at the question, remembering the angry way the nurse confronted Royce at the clinic. “Is that what it is? A slick factory?”

“I don’t know.” Rowan ducks to collect the food from the grill, but not before I see the flash of worry in his eyes. “I’ve heard of The Serenity Center, but they call it an omega rehabilitation center. For traumatized omegas…” His voice drifts off as he plates the food and pushes it gently my way. “But there are always rumors. And I guess you’re the proof that you can’t trust the brochure.”

I ponder that as I start to eat, the cheese as gooey and delicious as the marshmallows in the hot chocolate. I burn my mouth a couple of times, but it’s worth it, and I don’t look up until my plate is clean. Rowan hasn’t touched his food, and he now swaps our plates, a soft smile on his face as my stomach growls in appreciation. I’ve polished off my third piece when he suddenly asks, “Could anyone be looking for you? I mean, family or friends?”

I freeze, the events of the last couple of days crashing down on me. Here I am, eating the best grilled cheese sandwich ever made, while Kane is lying in a hospital bed and gangsters threatened to snap Dex’s neck.

“I’m a bad mate.” I don’t realize I’m crying until the bread in my fingers turns soggy, and I look down to see tears plinking onto my plate. “And now I’ve ruined your beautiful sandwich.”

“Forget the sandwich. I can make you another. But what did you mean about your mate?”

“Mates.” I have to swallow a sob to correct him, but it’s important that I acknowledge Dex out loud. He might not feel exactly the same way I do, but until he tells me that, I’m going to claim him in my heart. “Dex was my caretender at The Serenity Center, but then I met Kane, my alpha, and he broke us out. We’re mates, even though he hasn’t bitten me yet.”

“Uh, okay…” Rowan blinks rapidly, his scent sharpening. “That sounds…”

“Perfect?” I stare down at my damp plate, feeling forlorn. This is more than just bittersweet, because I didn’t just leave something behind, I put the people I love in danger. “It was, except then we got shot, and an awful alpha threatened to snap Dex’s neck if I didn’t come here with him.”

Rowan watches me for a long minute, then slowly pushes his coffee aside and gets to his feet. He fills two glasses with iced water from the fridge, setting one into my hands. It has a sliver of lemon floating in it, and I gulp it down, loving the chilly bite at the back of my throat. But before I can thank him, he takes my arm and leads me over to his sofa. He settles me in the middle, then hands me a blue blanket that’s so soft, I can’t resist rubbing the corner against my damp cheek. “Is this… velvet?”

“It’s cashmere, but the sofa is velvet.” Instead of settling beside me, he pulls up a chair and sits in front of me. “Do they have furnishings like these at the center?”

I shake my head, stealing another brush of the fabric against my cheek. “I’ve never heard of cashmere.”

“Well, omegas like us are partial to soft things.”

I nod and smooth the blanket carefully over my knees. “A counselor explained that to me. They said we couldn’t indulge in soft things because we needed to channel all our emotions into our deposits.” Just saying it aloud makes me squirm and I try to count how many hours it’s been since I was in the slick suit. I don’t have any desire to get back into one, but the need to empty my body of slick is like an itch under my skin. I don’t know if I’ve conjured it to the surface by my thoughts, but as I breathe in Rowan’s scent, the blanket soft against my cheek, I feel a telltale trickle from my core.

It's enough to make me rocket off the sofa, my thighs clenched tight as I blurt, “Please, Rowan! I need a slick suit! Now! ”