Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
LAUREN
As soon as Remus closes the door behind us, I grab his arm. “Oh my gosh, this is officially the creepiest place I’ve ever been,” I whisper, looking around a room that looks like a fine hotel suite—if the interior decorator had a serious fetish for black.
At least it’s not black and red. That would have been a little too on the nose.
Instead, there’s a black accent wall behind the large king-sized bed—matte black with subtle texture that might be damask or velvet. The other three walls have textured wallpaper in charcoal gray, creating depth and shadow. Black furniture. Black curtains. Even the bedding is black silk.
And there are no windows. Not a single one.
Naturally, I think a moment later, reality settling over me like cold water. Is this where visiting vampires sleep during the day? Just how many of them are there, anyway?
How has a whole world been hiding right within the one I knew? How did I go twenty-eight years without realizing that vampires and angels and dragons and god-knows-what-else are real?
Then again, from what Remus said, he’d only encountered one vampire before, and he and his brothers have been around for thousands of years. So maybe it’s not as common as I’m imagining. Maybe most humans live their entire lives never knowing.
But I shudder as I remember the other things that head honcho Vlad guy had talked about. “And what the hell is a dybbuk?”
Remus just waves a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry about that. They’re probably just a myth.”
“Like vampires?” I ask, planting a hand on my hip. “And the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
He shrugs—that casual, infuriating shrug—and comes closer. “All that matters now is that we’re safe.”
“For the moment,” I counter.
With another shrug, he wraps his arms around my waist and draws me close against his chest. “This moment is all we need.”
I let out a little huff, staring up at his strange, glamoured face. It’s still him—I can see it in his eyes, in the way he moves—but wrong somehow. “It’s weird not being able to see the real you.”
“I’m still here.” He grins. “And what, I thought you’d like this more handsome version of me?”
I frown at him, genuinely offended by the suggestion. “I like you just the way you are. Your actual face. And I miss your tail and wings.”
He cracks a genuine grin at that—pleasure lighting his features. “For once, I’m trying to be a good boy and follow Abaddon’s rules. He says to keep the glamour on at all times here.” His hands slide lower on my body. “But I still have these two hands.”
He drops them down my waist, curving around to my backside and squeezing appreciatively. “Even when I was plucking planes out of the air today, I could still taste remnants of your essence on my tongue. You drive me wild, beautiful one.”
Then he quirks an eyebrow—far less dramatically than usual in his glamoured state. “Or perhaps I should say, you drive me tame.”
“I don’t ever want to tame you.” The words come out fiercer than I expect. “I like you wild.”
He chuckles—low and warm. “It might not be the worst thing in the world. Even I can admit that sometimes I get a little...” His head tilts side to side. “...unpredictable.”
Which makes me laugh despite everything. A real laugh that bubbles up from my chest.
How on earth can he make me comfortable enough to laugh here, in a vampire compound, after the day we’ve had? Maybe because when I’m with him, even in what feels like a dangerous place, I feel at home.
That’s a wild thought. Risky to think. Also far too soon—we barely know each other, really.
It’s probably just the leftovers from the multiple rushes of adrenaline today. The crash after all that terror.
At the same time, I don’t care if it’s that same adrenaline that has me throwing my arms around his neck now. Pulling him close.
So strange—the glamour even makes his hair feel like normal hair instead of the smooth, inhuman surface I usually encounter when my fingers brush against Romulus’s sleeping face on the back of his head.
I want to get lost in him completely. Want to wash away all the terrors and uncertainties that lie outside that door.
He drops his lips to mine so I can kiss him, but before I’ve gotten more than a taste, he’s pulling back again.
He frames my face with his large, strong hands and searches my eyes, his expression serious. Concerned.
“How are you really, though, my beautiful one?” His voice is gentle. “Everything has been happening so fast. I want nothing more than to fall into bed with you—”
“So let’s,” I interrupt, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him again. To stop the talking and just feel.
But he pulls away just before I can make contact, and I let out a little discontented whine that’s embarrassing.
“I want to connect with you in every way,” he says, smoothing my hair back from my face with tender fingers. “But there were many shocks today. I have seen humans after battle before. It can take hours for the effects to be felt. For the body to process the fear.”
Even as he says the words, I start to tremble. Like he’s given my body permission to fall apart.
“Come,” he says gently, reaching down for my hand to draw me toward the attached bathroom.
It’s as black and gray as the bedroom—black marble floors, gray walls, chrome fixtures.
There’s both a deep soaking tub and a large, separate shower.
The shower is enormous—easily big enough for four people, with a tiled bench along one wall and multiple showerheads positioned at different heights and angles.
“Big enough for two,” he says, sliding his hand down my curves possessively. “After the day you’ve had, you deserve to relax.” He leans in to whisper against my ear, his breath warm. “Let me wash it all away.”
I shiver this time from good feelings, not remembered terror.
I’ve almost forgotten this side of Remus. But this is how he was when I first got to know him, back at the castle. Before any of the craziness escalated. Before I met Romulus or his family or we had to run for our lives. Attentive. Tender. Focused entirely on my pleasure, my comfort.
He shifts behind me and tugs my shirt over my head in one smooth motion. I relax back against his chest automatically. The bathroom is cold—vampire cold, no body heat warming these spaces—so I shiver.
“Don’t be sweet and gentle now,” I whisper, crossing my arms self-consciously to cover my stomach. “I can’t bear it.”
Tears cluster in my eyes, hot and unwelcome.
“Would you rather I was a beast?” he murmurs, turning me around to face him after peeling off the rest of my outer clothes—my jeans sliding down my legs.
He’s undressed too, I realize with a start. When did that happen? I blink, struggling not to look down at his body. Failing.
I’m still wearing my bra and underwear, but somehow I’ve never felt so bared and naked before him. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m so exhausted by everything that’s happened today, but I feel terribly vulnerable. Raw.
“Today must have been terrifying for you,” he says as if reading my mind. His voice is so gentle it makes my chest ache.
I nod, my throat suddenly clogged with emotion. “I was so worried—” I cut off, almost hiccupping. “Ksenia, I mean, she had a baby right in front of me. On a helicopter that was about to go down. And then we were in this whole other—”
My brain scrambles for the words to even describe it.
“—place where these huge flying things were attacking us, and you weren’t there. You were outside fighting and I couldn’t see you and I thought—I thought—”
His arms close around me and shut off my increasingly frantic words. Holding me tight and safe.
I guess even I hadn’t realized just how freaked out I’d been by it all. Everything happened so fast, and then it was over, and I was so thankful we were all okay that I didn’t let myself feel the terror. Pushed it down. Kept going.
But now—
Suddenly I’m crying. Really crying. Tears I can’t control streaming down my face.
“I should never have left your side,” he says roughly, his own voice thick with emotion.
I’m all but shuddering in his arms now, my whole body shaking.
“Yes, you should have,” I cry into his chest, my words muffled against his skin. “Or else we would have been blasted out of the air by missiles! But yeah.” I turn my teary face into his warmth as he rubs my back in soothing circles. “It was a lot.”
“Let me make it up to you.” The words are a whisper against my ear as he nestles his head down against mine, his cheek against my hair. “Let me take it all away.”
I nod fervently against his chest, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
He walks us toward the shower, only pulling away long enough to reach in and turn on the spray. Multiple streams of water begin cascading, and steam immediately starts filling the space.
He unhooks my bra with practiced ease and slowly—eyes never losing contact with mine—peels it off me. The straps slide down my arms. Cool air hits my breasts, making my nipples tighten.
Then his hands are at my hips, fingers hooking into my panties. When he bends over to tug them down my thighs, I swear I can feel the heat of his breath as he inhales deeply—appreciatively—before my panties are at my ankles and I’m stepping out of them.
Completely naked now. Exposed.
He leads me inside the marble and glass enclosure, and it’s the perfect temperature—hot but not scalding, steamy and enveloping.
He positions me right underneath the main spray, and my muscles immediately begin to relax. The hot water cascades over my head, my shoulders, running in rivulets down my body.
He’s standing behind me, and he must feel whatever tension is still locked in my shoulders, because his hands come up to massage them. Strong fingers digging into the knots.
“I want you to give yourself over to me completely now,” he murmurs against my ear. “Can you do that for me?”
I nod, still hiccupping from the tears. Yes. Please.