Chapter 29
They were both covered in blood, but Audrey wouldn’t let Gunnar go for anything. He couldn’t stand it much longer, her skin tainted by his kind, so he coaxed her into their tiny bathroom.
“Need to get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” Gunnar said, gentle as his voice allowed, her nails digging into his forearm as he turned on the shower. The copper piping groaned against the cold, steam filling the air in seconds. He owed E a mead next time he saw him. “Get in.”
Audrey shook her head.
“Audrey, I’ll be right outside.”
She shook her head again. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going to leave you, sweetheart. Hey, look at me.” Gunnar cupped her face in both hands. Her chin trembled against his palms, and he tried to ignore the black smears all over her skin. “Just a shower, just for a minute.”
Another head shake, Audrey muscling her way against his body again.
Gunnar held her; he didn’t know what else to do. The water drummed against the copper tub. He blew out a breath. “Okay, okay, whatever you need.”
He got her to sit on the toilet and let go long enough for him to peel off his gloves and toe out of his boots and socks, kicking them out of the way.
Audrey remained seated, palms open in her lap, staring vaguely at the floor. Gunnar kneeled down, hands on hers, gave a squeeze. She shivered. She was so damn pale. Modesty would have to take a backseat.
“Arms up,” he said, and she obliged him while he tugged the shirt over her head, adding it to the pile of things they’d need to fucking burn. Gunnar spared a glance at the simple white cotton bra, stained with black, and swallowed dryly as he helped her stand. Turned her so her back was to him, that’d be better, because he didn’t need to be looking at all her skin like this.
Audrey didn’t seem to care, standing limp in front of him as he helped her out of her jeans, steadying her with a hand on her hip as he gritted his teeth. He hadn’t seen this much of her since the night they fled her apartment, barefoot and in a T-shirt and underwear. He wanted to ignore it, he really did, but she was all soft skin and delicate curves, tiny under his huge hands, stirring that hungry, dark part of himself he kept buried any time he looked her direction.
She was beautiful, always had been, much as he tried to ignore it, and now was the worst time to be reminded. The scars on her arm and shoulder from the hellfire attack had faded, a reminder of how close he’d come to losing her, long before he’d really come to understand just how important she was to him.
He cleared his throat and stood, gaze falling between her shoulder blades when he noticed a faint shimmer.
Every thought vacated when he saw the delicate spell work. Runes colored nearly the same as her skin. He growled, couldn’t help himself, grabbed her by one shoulder as he ran his fingers over the marks.
“What the fuck is this?”
Audrey didn’t tense at his tone, didn’t really react at all beyond turning slightly in his direction. Her eyes were glassy, and she made a small questioning sound.
“Who fucking marked you?” Gunnar snarled, everything forgotten beyond the runes, what they could mean.
Was she bound? Had someone enchanted her? Possessed her? How and who and when? The questions hammered into his skull. She reached over her shoulder, touching the runes; at least she knew they were there, that was something . . .
“Oh . . . Theodore,” she answered, dropping her hand. “Before we left the ESC.”
He’d kill him. It’d be work, but he’d find a way.
“Just protection spells,” she added, her tone emotionless.
Gunnar ran his fingers over the marks, pressing with his thumb. One-way spell work? The kind of shit E did with the copper pipes to keep water warm, or the oven he’d made Audrey for the cookies.
But these were on her skin. That archivist fucker had branded her.
“What did you pay?” he asked, because he needed to know if he was swimming to Iceland.
“Nothing. He was worried, and he said it was the easiest way for him to help me since he couldn’t come to Nizhny.” Her fingers came back up, brushing Gunnar’s near the almost invisible runes. “Four protection runes. From hellfire, persuasion, possession, and undesired pregnancy.”
Made sense, what Theo’d picked, and he could confirm later that Theo hadn’t done more than he’d told Audrey. They’d been attacked by hellfire; it could be used against them again. Both persuasion and possession were common and effective tactics against humans and had plenty of sources.
As for the last one . . .
Undesired pregnancy. It shouldn’t have made his blood race, his mind stutter. His body shouldn’t have been reacting to the idea she was protected, as protected as possible by a demigod’s magic, against his vileblood.
The first thing in his head should absolutely not have been the ringing, deafening realization that he could have her, touch her, be with her, and she’d be safe from his blood’s curse.
Gunnar scoffed, the sound loud and ugly in the tiny bathroom.
Yeah, there was a reason he was a fucking monster. Here Audrey was, vulnerable and in shock, and he was thinking with his dick. And a protection rune didn’t change the fact he didn’t deserve to touch, nor the undeniable truth that she’d never want someone like him, safe or not.
He needed to get his head out of his ass and take care of her.
“Sorry,” he grumbled, guiding her into the tub, but she grabbed his arm again when he reached to close the curtain.
“Don’t leave.”
“I’m right here.”
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, just stay with me right now.”
Gunnar closed his eyes and cursed. He could do this. He could be what she needed, not some fucking lecher. With a jerky nod, he tugged his shirt over his head, hissing as it reopened the wound on his shoulder.
Audrey frowned up at him. “You’re hurt?”
“Not serious.” Not anymore at least, though he’d take a few days to bounce back from the blood loss. He kicked out of his pants, keeping on the shorts underneath. Blood soaked them, but he did not need to be naked in front of her. Gunnar adjusted himself as he turned.
Her palms pressed on his chest, trying to look at the wound, and he planted his hands firmly on her shoulders and kept her facing away from him, into the hot water, then closed the curtain behind them. “Worry about you first, then you can patch me up.”
“I’m . . . I think . . .”
“You’re not fucking fine,” he growled at her, running his hands over her arms, trying to scrub the black from her skin. “I stayed like you asked, now let me get this blood off you before I lose my fucking mind.” He closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose, and added, “Please.”
A pause, and then she gave a small nod, still shivering despite the hot water. Gunnar focused on cleaning her, and when she stripped out of her bra and underwear, he refused to acknowledge how his pulse jumped, how his cock twitched. Eyes on the top of her head, he turned her and tilted her head back, washing the blood from her hair, smoothing it away from her puffy eyes.
“He said you were dead.” She shuddered, and before he could argue, she flattened a palm over his heart. “I didn’t believe him.” Her brow furrowed, clearly important to her he understood. “I didn’t.”
“I know, Audrey.”
He didn’t think this time, holding her tight as she quietly cried, a hand cradling her nape. He soothed her. He didn’t really know what he said, half of it wasn’t even words. It was killing him, the pain in her scent.
Gunnar would do anything, he realized then, anything to bring the sunshine back into her scent, anything for the precious woman in his arms.
Once they were both clean, he shut the water off. Wrapping her in a towel was a challenge, but after she let him sit her down long enough to strip off his wet shorts and get a towel tied around his waist, he scooped her up bridal carry. Her arms went around his neck, and her face nuzzled at his throat. Gunnar paused at the sight of her in his arms reflected in the polished steel mirror above the basin.
Perfect came to mind.
The front door opening snapped his attention. He pressed his lips against the top of Audrey’s wet hair, nudging the bathroom door open just enough to poke his head through.
Rina strode through the living area, her face twisted in a scowl, blond hair messy and loose around her shoulders. Aster and Virtue came in close behind her. When she saw Gunnar, she showed her open, empty hands. Kept her distance, not stepping into the narrow hall.
His lip curled back. If any of them tried to touch Audrey . . .
No.
An impossible task, but he needed to fucking relax. These people were on Audrey’s side. Part of him expected Rina to bust in the door and demand answers, demand he step the fuck back, let her handle things. Take Audrey away from him, because that was probably for the best, wasn’t it?
But they weren’t doing that. This was fine. They were here to help, because he’d asked for help. He’d asked Zhadan to get help. He realized then Rina had only brought women to help. Good call, given he was acting like a territorial beast in a damn rut. Gunnar licked his lips, gave Rina a hesitant nod.
“Audrey?” Rina asked.
“She’s not hurt,” Gunnar replied, relaxing a fraction when Virtue closed the front door, a brow arched, but she stayed silent. Aster had already moved into the kitchen, cleaning up without a word.
“What do you need?”
Gunnar jerked his head toward Audrey’s room. “Clean up Mateo. Tomas is alive, out on their parcel. He’s waiting, told him not to move until someone gets him.”
Rina nodded. “I’ve got things covered for tonight. Get some rest, both of you.”
“Yeah,” Gunnar drawled, glancing down at Audrey nuzzled against his chest, both of them still wet and in towels, wondering what they all must think. If they were smart, they’d step in. All three of them should have had opinions about a vileblood damn near naked with a human woman in his arms, but nothing came.
They trusted him. By the expressions, they were just as worried about him as Audrey. He didn’t know what the fuck to do with that knowledge.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, nodding to Rina once as he ducked into his bedroom with Audrey still in his arms, closing the door and locking it behind them.
The room was dark, as he never bothered lighting his space, the bed crisply made, nothing else in the utilitarian space besides a trunk for his clothing, an end table with his under-used oil lamp, and a single wooden chair tucked in the far corner.
Audrey wasn’t crying anymore, her expression vacant, her scent pained and exhausted and driving him nuts. He considered getting her some of her own clothes, but that would mean wading through what was left of Mateo, and the smell was bad enough with two doors between them and the body. Instead, he helped her into a plain black T-shirt of his, big enough to be a nightgown of sorts on her. He dressed himself, then pulled down the covers and helped her underneath. When he moved to tuck her in, she grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t leave.”
“Audrey . . .”
Her grip tightened, and he stopped fighting himself, forcing his way through the borders he’d built up between them. Because she needed him.
Gunnar barely got into the bed before she curled up against him, her head tucked under his chin, holding her against him the most natural thing he’d ever done. She sighed, the sound bone deep. Gunnar only let himself close his eyes when he scented sunshine in the darkest part of the night.