Chapter 5 #2
Brom shrugs and leans back, the back of his head thudding against the wall. “I couldn’t tell you.”
“It would be rather helpful if you could,” I tell him, pulling the chair from the desk out into the middle of the room, keeping myself between Brom and Kat.
She may be able to protect herself—and me—from the horseman, but I don’t want to put her in that position again, especially if her magic doesn’t last for long.
Brom closes his eyes and swallows. “Try being nice to me for a while, even if I don’t deserve it.” His voice is so low, so broken and sad that I feel something fundamental inside me tear open.
“I think we can do that,” I say quietly.
“What about the ritual?” Kat asks, obviously still worried. “We need to do that as soon as possible. We need to get the horseman out of him. He won’t be at peace until it’s gone. We won’t be at peace. We can’t keep doing this every single night.” Her voice is rising with each sentence.
I give her a placating look, noticing how her fingers are clenching the edges of the blanket. “I need to do more research,” I tell her. “This isn’t as simple as casting a spell, nor is it like what we did by the lake. This involves blood and dark magic.”
“And sex,” she says simply.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yes. Sex.”
“I don’t want Brom touching me.”
It feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. I swear the candles even flicker.
“So much for being nice,” Brom comments, though he doesn’t sound hurt.
“Frankly, I don’t want Brom touching you either,” I admit.
Brom grunts at that but doesn’t say anything.
“But,” I go on, “we will have to compromise somehow, whether we like it or not.”
And I certainly don’t like it.
“I said I don’t want him touching me,” Kat goes on, a look of defiance in her azure eyes, lit by candlelight. “I didn’t say I won’t touch him. I want to be in control. I need to be.”
I’m looking at Brom now, waiting for his reaction.
I’m not sure he’ll like both me and Kat being dominant over him.
He stares at Kat, an unreadable, dark look, but then drops his gaze.
He lifts up his shoulder in a shrug but grimaces at the pain and I realize the blood is starting to seep through the shirt.
“Hold on,” I say to him. I go into the bathroom, roll up my sleeve, and dunk my hand into the hot water, pulling out the plug to drain the tub enough so that someone can get in without the water spilling over. Last thing I need is for Daniels to complain that I’m flooding the dorm.
“Kat,” I say to her, jerking my thumb toward the bath. “You should have a bath before Brom gets it dirty.”
She shakes her head. From the worried look in her gaze I can tell what she’s thinking: She doesn’t want the horseman to come out when she’s bathing and can’t defend us.
Are you sure? I ask, using the voice. It might help you sleep.
She scoffs lightly at that. None of us will be sleeping tonight.
“All right,” I say. “Then it’s yours, Brom. I need to help you clean that wound. I have just enough of the poultice left for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll have to make more.”
“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Kat asks as I walk over to Brom and help him to his feet. His body is cold to the touch and he’s quick to shrug out of my grip.
“What do you mean?” I ask her as we head to the bathroom, pausing at the door.
“Brom’s been shot. How is he going to explain that? My mother will probably show up here tomorrow with a buggy full of my belongings. What am I supposed to say to her after everything that’s happened?”
“Not to mention a poor man’s head in the library,” I muse, groaning inwardly at the mess we left the library in. “Listen, I’ll make sure everything works out. Tomorrow is Saturday, I’ll ensure Brom is healing nicely and I won’t let you talk to your mother alone. I’ll help you move.”
“You really think she’ll let you help?”
“I can be persuasive when I want to be. Don’t worry about that. Try and get some rest,” I tell her.
But I can tell she doesn’t believe me. I grab the vial of leftover poultice and go into the bathroom.
Brom is already fully submerged in the tub, the blood swirling in the water, looking so damn beautiful and dangerous it hurts to breathe for a moment.
I leave the door open a crack and then grab the bar of soap and a washcloth.
I crouch down beside him, ready to cleanse his wound, but he’s grabbing my wrist, his eyes hard as he stares at me. “I can do it myself,” he says stiffly.
I give him a small smile. “I know you can. But I feel I owe you. I did shoot you and then jammed my thumb in the bullet hole.”
“You also fucked me in front of Kat,” he says, his brows lowering, his voice a growl. His grip becomes a vise. “Then you did the same to her in front of me.” He pauses, his eyes darkening. “And you didn’t let me climax.”
“So perhaps I owe you more than this,” I tell him. “Besides, this will hurt. Wouldn’t you rather me administer the pain? You know I’m so good at it.”
He sucks in his lower lip for a moment and I’m flooded with the urge to kiss him. Open his mouth with my lips, slide my tongue over his. Kiss him in a way that tells him that I’m sorry for being so cruel.
But then he drops his hand and looks away. He’s conceded to let me take care of him.
So that’s what I do.
I rub the washcloth on the soap and then swirl it around his wound.
He lets out sharp gasps of pain, his muscles straining, his teeth grinding together, but he lets me clean him.
Not just the wound, but everywhere, from head to toe, exploring his body in a way that brings me back to a year prior, the lazy days we’d have in the bath in that Manhattan hotel room.
When he’s done, he steps out of the water and I wrap a towel around him and make him sit on the edge of the tub while I rub the herbs and oil onto his injury. Then I wrap him up with some gauze from behind the medicine cabinet, just in case.
“I think I hate you,” he whispers to me as I tuck the ends of the gauze over his shoulder.
I go still at that, a knife between my ribs. I swallow thickly and look him in the eye, our faces mere inches away.
“Well,” I say, giving him a faint smile, “at least you feel something for me.”