Chapter 42
The stench of antiseptic and formaldehyde wafted through the air.
Cold steel bit into my back. My left wrist burned where a handcuff ground into bone, tearing my skin as I tried to pry it off.
I was back in the morgue, the chemical bite of disinfectant mixing with the cold, sweet rot of the dead.
My gut wrenched in horror as the body on the table glared at me, mouth gaping, while voices rose in a swarm of buzzing rage.
“Why won’t you save us?”
“Monster.”
“It’s your fault.”
I ripped at the cuff, thrashing to pull away from the table and the corpse on it, my heart hammering hard enough to ache. The walls closed in around me. My lungs burned for air, and I gasped as the cold, clammy grip of the dead man closed around my wrist.
“Jude!”
Arms wrapped around me, and I screamed. A warm, musky scent of man, sweat, and sugar filled my senses. The cry died in my throat as reality snapped into focus: Angel’s arms around me, his face pressed into the back of my neck as he whispered soothing things.
“There you are,” he said. “You’re okay. I’m here. Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”
The phantom smells lingered. A chill ran through me, and I shuddered. The sour edge of terror lingered in my sweat. I tried to shrug out of Angel’s grasp, hating to horrify him with how gross I felt.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to get away. “I need to shower.” And feel like I could escape the memories.
Angel guided me to the bathroom, a firm arm around my waist as he closed the door behind us and turned the shower on, testing the temperature, all without letting me go.
The bathroom light made my head pound, threatening a new headache. Angel flipped the fan on, leaving only that light as he turned off the overhead, and steam rose from the shower. His fingers found the waistband of my boxer briefs and I flinched. “I can do it.”
“You’re shaking,” Angel whispered, his expression soft. “Do you want me to stop touching you?”
I thought about that for a few seconds while the steam fogged up the mirror and he held me up. “No.” I didn’t want him to let go. Why did I want him so much? Even if it was just to hold me?
“Can I help you wash off the sweat?” Angel asked carefully. “We don’t have to do anything else,” he promised. “Your pace.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, feeling emotionally raw. “I’m gonna really need therapy, eh?”
He let out a long breath as he tugged my underwear down, and his own, before situating both of us in the shower, under the hot spray. The remaining chill of the nightmare retreated, and I hissed as the heated water washed away the memory.
“Yeah, maybe,” Angel said, holding me tight to him. His arms held me like anchors, his heartbeat against my ear as I rested on his shoulder, skin to skin. The last, clinging traces of the memory dissolved into the steam, washed away by the heat and Angel’s embrace.
“Sorry,” I said.
“You want to talk about it?”
“No.” I had no desire to awaken those internal demons again.
He grabbed the shampoo from the shelf and took his time lathering my hair, scrubbing my scalp, and rinsing.
“You’re good at that,” I grumbled.
“Mhmm,” he agreed, and picked up my loofah.
“You don’t have to do that. My freak-out is over. It’s the middle of the night. I’m sure you’re tired too,” I said in protest as he soaped it up and began massaging my skin.
Angel guided the loofah over my skin, caressing my shoulders, down my chest, and over my stomach as if he were mapping every inch of me.
The heat of the water loosened my muscles and eased the tension as I leaned against the bathroom wall and let him explore, unable to stop my breath from hitching as he roamed lower.
“Good?” Angel asked, nipping my lower lip. The loofah was soft against my hips, following the trail of my belly button.
“Yes,” I whispered, shuddering as his fingers ghosted over the tip of me, my cock hard and reaching, though I tried to ignore it.
How did anyone stand in a shower with the hottest man alive and not feel something?
Even half asleep, scattered from nightmares, the scent of him, his heat, and his touch threatened to shatter the last of my resolve and have me climbing him like a tree.
He trailed kisses over my face, a soft line of warm lips sliding from mine, across my cheekbone and back to my ear, his cheek rubbing against me.
A little like a cat marking its territory.
The idea of that made me groan. Angel thought of me as his.
Because of our bond? Because he was just into me? Or a little of both?
I reached up to slide my fingers into his wet hair, enjoying the feel of him against me.
“Like that?” Angel asked as his thumb traced my hip bone, down the line to my groin, teasing, but not touching the aching length of me.
I grumbled incoherently, grateful the nightmare had vanished, but now filled with an incredible need I couldn’t put into words. Finally, I settled on, “Please.”
Angel let out a long, slow breath. “I got you,” he promised as he trailed another kiss over my cheek. I turned my head, catching his lips with mine, needing to taste him again.
He groaned, opening to sweep his tongue against my bottom lip, and when I parted my lips for him, he slid in, pressing me to the back of the shower and diving deep into my mouth.
The water cascaded over us in a warm, soothing rush that made me sink into him as he pressed me into the wall.
His strength, hot skin, and passionate kiss grounded me, easing away all the other worries that had plagued me for days.
He slipped his hand between us, fingers curling around my cock, and I gasped into his mouth, thrusting up into his hand.
“This okay?” he asked gently, lips brushing mine as he spoke.
“Yes, please,” I begged, and needed to touch him too.
He tightened his grip, stroking me in slow, deliberate pulls. His thumb swiped over the head, teasing, tickling, and making me writhe against him. Pleasure pooled in my gut, need building. My ass clenched as if wishing he could fill me, too.
“Angel,” I gasped against his lips, breaking the continued kisses long enough to plead. His erection rested hot against my hip; hard, aching. I needed to touch him. “Can I?”
“Yes,” he answered, lips returning to mine as if losing those few seconds of kisses physically hurt.
I wrapped my hand around him, his cock thick in my grip. Fuck. Someday I’d get on my knees and study it with my tongue. For now, I matched his rhythm, stroking him as he did me, the water running between us.
He growled, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if I was doing it wrong.
No one had complained before, but Angel pulled his lips from mine, grabbed the bottle of shower gel, and squirted it between us, soaping up both our cocks and easing the glide.
Oh. That was so much better. I sighed and threw my head back against the wall, sucking in air as he worked me then hesitated.
He slotted our dicks together, his hand below mine, setting the pace.
Angel’s mouth found mine again, messy and desperate as he licked and sucked at my lips then slid down to kiss my jaw and follow my throat.
He decorated my neck and collarbone with tiny, stinging nips as we thrust together, rhythm faltering as I neared the edge.
His breath hitched, and I felt him trembling against me, his control unraveling just as fast as mine.
He circled his thumb around the tip of my cock, pressing my head to his as his grip tightened around us.
I came with a choked moan, my release spurting over his hand, my knees buckling as pleasure ripped through me, held up only by Angel’s body pressed to mine.
He followed moments later, shuddering against me, his face buried in the crook of my neck as his spend mixed with mine until the warm water rinsed it all away.
We stood wrapped in each other for a long moment, both breathing hard, his forehead pressed to my shoulder as if I were the last buoy in a storm. His arms tightened around me, fingers tracing idle, possessive circles on my hip.
“Good?” he murmured, his voice husky, but satiated.
“Mmm,” I agreed, and kissed him again, slow and lingering, needing to memorize the taste of him. “Better than good.”
We lingered for a short while, both half-boneless, until Angel snapped the loofah up again, quickly washing us both before shutting off the water and dragging me out to the padded rug.
Steam curled around us as he toweled me off first, then himself, pausing a moment to wrap the fabric around my back and tug me in to his chest. I stared up at him as he dove in for another kiss, and closed my eyes to sink into him.
Neither of us was able to get enough, even as my temporary surge of adrenaline from the nightmare faded and my energy flagged.
“Bed,” Angel grumbled. “You’re ready to fall over.
” He snagged my fingers in his and tugged me toward the door, tossing the towel on top of the basket.
He guided me to the bed and tucked me against him, his heartbeat steady against my back as he spooned me and tugged the blankets up.
I relaxed into his embrace, closing my eyes and releasing all the tension.
I’d never felt as safe as I did in that moment, wrapped in Angel’s arms. It felt like where I was meant to be all along.