20. Harley #4
Val climbs back onto the bed beside me and gently cleans my stomach first, movements slow and careful despite the way exhaustion still lingers around his eyes.
I watch him quietly for a moment.
“What?”
“You’re really good at this.”
Val blinks. “Cleaning up?”
“No.” I reach out and touch his wrist lightly. “Taking care of people.”
Something complicated flickers briefly across his face.
“This is different.”
“Not really.”
He looks unconvinced.
I shift onto my side instead, propping my head up on one arm while he continues cleaning the inside of my thighs. The intimacy of it hits strangely hard now that the intensity of the sex has faded. This feels almost more vulnerable somehow. Quiet. Domestic. Real.
Mine.
Warm possessiveness brushes unexpectedly across the bond.
I freeze.
Val freezes too.
Slowly, he lifts his gaze to mine.
“That was you,” I whisper.
His expression looks almost startled. “I didn’t mean to send it.”
“But you did.”
Heat climbs slowly across the tops of his cheeks.
God.
A giant scarred wolf blushing because he accidentally emotionally projected possessive affection at me might actually be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’re adorable,” I inform him immediately.
Val looks horrified. “Don’t call me adorable after I just bit you during sex.”
“Especially after that.”
He groans softly and scrubs one hand down his face while I laugh again. Then his fingers brush accidentally against the bite at my neck and I suck in a sharp breath.
The reaction’s instant.
Val’s attention sharpens hard toward me while heat flashes through the bond, dark and hungry enough that my stomach tightens all over again.
Interesting.
Very, very interesting.
“You like that too,” I murmur.
Val stares at the mark on my throat for a second too long. “Harley…”
“No, seriously.” I tilt my head slightly to expose the bite more fully. “Every time you look at it, you get this expression.”
“I bit my mate.”
“That sounds pretty intentional.”
“It wasn’t,” he admits roughly. “At first.”
The honesty in that sends another warm pulse through me.
I touch the mark lightly myself, still fascinated by the strange ache radiating from it. “Does it always feel like this?”
Val frowns slightly. “Like what?”
“Warm.” I search for better words and fail. “Connected.”
His expression softens almost painfully. “Usually stronger over time.”
Wow.
That thought should probably be terrifying.
Instead I find myself smiling helplessly at the ceiling for a second before looking back at him. “Well, that doesn’t sound emotionally dangerous at all.”
“You’re taking this suspiciously well.”
“I think my brain gave up around the time my brother turned out to be a werewolf.”
“That’s fair.”
Val finally finishes cleaning me up and tosses the washcloth aside before settling back against the headboard carefully, his leg stretching stiffly out beneath the blankets. I notice the slight tightness around his eye immediately.
“You’re hurting again.”
“I’m alive again,” he corrects quietly.
I study him more carefully then, really look at him instead of just admiring him. The scar. The eyepatch. The lingering tension in his shoulders like part of him still expects all this happiness to disappear if he relaxes too much.
Slowly, I reach up toward the eyepatch strap.
Val goes completely still.
“You don’t have to,” I say softly.
For a second I think he’ll stop me.
Instead, after one long hesitant pause, he nods once.
Carefully, I slip the strap loose and lift the patch away.
The damaged eye beneath is worse than I expect and somehow not as bad at the same time. Scar tissue cuts through the ruined socket and down across his cheekbone, the aftermath of violence written brutally across one side of his face.
My heart hurts for him. Because somebody did this to him and somehow convinced him afterward that it made him less.
Val watches me carefully while I look. Waiting and bracing himself.
“You’re still beautiful,” I say quietly.
Emotion hits the bond so hard it almost steals my breath. Val looks away immediately.
“Nope.” I catch his jaw gently and turn him back toward me. “You do not get to emotionally short-circuit and hide from me after I say something nice.”
A startled laugh escapes him despite the obvious vulnerability still rolling through him.
“I mean it,” I continue softly. “I hate that somebody hurt you. But this?” I trace carefully along one edge of the scar. “This isn’t ugly, Val.”
His throat works hard.
“You keep looking at me like I’m worth something,” he admits roughly. “I’m still getting used to it.”
Well.
That just about breaks my damn heart.
I climb into his lap before he can stop me, careful of his leg this time, and wrap both arms around his shoulders tightly.
Val makes a soft startled sound and immediately holds me back.
“You’re worth a lot,” I whisper against his neck. “And you’re stuck with me now, so get used to hearing it.”
For a long quiet moment he just holds me there. Then the bond warms gently between us again, softer this time.
I smile helplessly against his throat.