Chapter 20 #2
I want to ask more about it, but I file away my questions for later.
He’s right. It’s unimportant right now, when I’m much more concerned for him .
“Why didn’t you do what he did?” Once I’ve got the shower on and heating up, I carefully unbutton the front of his jeans.
Cairo stiffens, though I can’t tell if it’s from the question or my bold, unhesitant actions.
His fingers find mine, and when I look up at him, I see a glint of surprised amusement in his face.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you naked, obviously.” I roll my eyes, and his smirk grows.
“Oh yeah? You’re the one in charge now?” He’s avoiding my question, and I tug on the front of his jeans, though he isn’t exactly putting up any kind of fight.
I swear I hear a purring sound in his throat, and his hands drop to my elbows, encouraging my actions as I peel his jeans down his bloody thighs, along with his underwear.
It’s the first time I’m really seeing him, without the haze of heat and passion and tinge of fear the other night.
My gaze flickers to every part of his olive skin, whether it’s bloody or clean, and with his jeans at his knees I reach up to trail my fingers over the v of his hips and upward.
“Why didn’t you want to hurt him?” I ask, more direct this time.
“Last I checked, I wasn’t just batting at him with sheathed claws,” Cairo snorts indignantly, reaching out to tap my cheek with his fingers that end in sharp, bloody nails.
But I just look at him, undeterred. “Liar. I don’t know a lot, but I’m not stupid.
I watch Animal Planet.” That gets an eye roll from him that speaks volumes.
“He was trying to kill you.” I gesture to his neck for emphasis, and then poke at his chest, beside the worst of the claw marks.
“You said earlier that the two ways to kill you are decapitation or ripping out your heart.”
He looks sullenly away from me, toward the shower, then back at me with all the innocence of a puppy who’s just eaten my shoes. “Shower’s gonna get cold,” Cairo remarks weakly.
“Then let it. Why were you trying not to hurt him when he wanted to kill you ?”
I don’t know why I’m expecting an answer.
Even standing there and glowering at him, he doesn’t look like he’s about to back down.
Instead he sighs, casting his gaze up to the ceiling.
In a sudden flurry of movements, he strips me out of my clothes just like I’d done him, amidst my yelps of disagreement and my hands trying to fend him off.
But I suppose fair is fair. Especially when he hoists me against his chest and steps into the shower, under the hot spray that immediately has dark blood cascading in rivulets down my drain.
“You’re gross,” I tell him, staring down at the blood and water eddying around my feet.
He just purrs a laugh, reaching out to comb his fingers through my loose, blonde hair. “Why won’t you answer me?”
Cairo continues what he’s doing, until he has me up against the wall with his face pressed to my neck and his hands on my hips.
He reminds me of a giant cat trying to get closer, trying to touch every part of me he can.
But this isn’t about me, when he’s so injured.
It takes a few seconds for me to push him off, especially when I want him right here, with his body covering mine.
I want his oppressive warmth, and his touch that’s so different from anyone else’s I’ve ever felt.
I love his quiet ferocity, his feral nature, and everything about him I’ve come to know so far.
But I want to take care of him.
“Stop trying to distract me. If you aren’t going to answer me, just, I don’t know, purr more,” I complain.
I manage to push him lightly against the wall of the shower, conscious of his wounds even if he isn’t.
Cairo watches me, a question in his glinting eyes, as I smooth my hands over the uninjured planes of his hips.
“Let me help you.” It isn’t a question, and just barely a request.
“You don’t have to,” Cairo replies, in an echoing tone that sounds so much like my own voice it sends a shiver down my spine to hear it.
“But I want to.” He doesn’t reply, and the echo of my words die in the small space as I stand in front of him, waiting.
I expect Cairo to push me away. I expect him to growl, and give me his usual level of roughness.
It’s clear he doesn’t like being fussed over or being cared for, but here in the darkness of my shower, with hot water raining down on both of us and sluicing away the blood from his wounds and his claws, he seems to melt just a little.
I can’t help my feeling of victory when his shoulders relax ever so slightly.
So I lean up on my toes and brush my lips to his, though his hand comes up between us for him to grip the base of my throat with a low growl.
“Don’t push your luck,” he purrs in my ear, though there’s no anger in it.
If I had to guess, he’s like a wild animal right now.
One who’s wounded and afraid and fighting his urges to push everyone away so he can lick his wounds on his own.
But he doesn’t need to push me away.
Though I don’t know how to make him see that.
I sigh and reach up to brush my fingers over his lower lip, feeling the flesh under the pads of my fingers.
He turns with my movements, nipping lightly at my fingers with his sharp teeth, and again I hear that purring growl I’m starting to think isn’t a sound of displeasure at all.
“Does it hurt?”
“All the time.” But when Cairo meets my eyes, it hits me that he’s not talking about his wounds.
“I meant?—”
“I know what you meant, Fern. Yes.” He rolls his shoulders with a grimace.
“They don’t exactly feel good. They’ll heal in a few days, though.
By morning they’ll be more annoying than anything.
” But he leans back against the wall under the spray, eyes going half-lidded as a sigh leaves his barely parted lips.
I take that as the most permission I’m going to get.
With a wet rag I wipe gently along his body, not getting too close to the ragged claw marks across his chest while wiping away the dried blood that water from the shower can’t penetrate.
He twitches under me every few seconds as I get closer to the wounds with the soft rag.
But I’m careful not to hurt him, and after a few minutes I’m satisfied with my work.
Next I move to the gouge on his neck, shivering at the muscle and bone I swear I can see.
“This is so bad,” I breathe, not really wanting to be heard over the sound of the rushing water. “Cairo…” He reaches out to grip my elbow, stroking his thumb along my skin.
“I’ve had worse,” he sighs. “This would be bad for you, but for me…” He rolls his shoulder with a pained grimace. “I’ve had worse . The rules are different when you’re cursed, little bird. This is one of the few perks.” His lips twitch in a rueful grin. “If you can call them that, anyway.”
I snort, but don’t answer. After all, I would definitely call healing this fast, and being able to just walk away with wounds like this, absolute perks.
But without knowing why he’s ‘cursed’ or what he did, I don’t really want to comment.
When I’m done, the wound on his shoulder and throat looks a little better, at least in my opinion.
I swear I can’t see quite as much bone, though it still makes me queasy to look at if I focus on it too much.
The rest of his body is mostly unmarred, save for a few scratches, but when I start to pull away, Cairo suddenly grasps my arm with a soft sound in his throat. “Wait,” he murmurs, eyes shining with reflected light so eerily like a cat’s.
“Yeah?” I breathe, heart in my chest.
“You missed one.” His eyes flick downward, then back up. I’m confused for a moment, until he shifts pointedly, drawing my gaze down to the smallest possible graze on the front of his thigh. My mouth twitches in the hint of a grin, but I hold a straight face, gazing up at him with wide eyes.
“You’re right,” I agree softly. “I can’t believe I missed that.” The same half-hidden smile flickers on his lips as well, and I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. Even on me, the scratch on his thigh would be minor at best. Like a scrape from a branch or something rough on bare legs.
When I drop to my knees, he draws in a surprised breath, like he hadn’t expected that from me; it makes me smile slightly. I keep my eyes on his as he widens his stance a little so my knees fit between his ankles perfectly, the shower water raining onto my hair and cascading down my shoulders.
“Tell me how to make you feel better,” I murmur, my voice quiet in the small, dark space.
“I’d rather show you.” The rough purr is back in his voice, as one hand comes up to thread through my soaked hair and his nails scrape against my scalp.
“You’re too tempting down there, little bird.
” But he doesn’t pull me to my feet. He guides my face closer to where his other hand is wrapped around the base of his cock that’s swelling under the attention.
My eyes dip to it, and I gaze at the impressive length that’s just as striking as the rest of him. I can’t help but wonder if this part of him changed, too, whenever he became what he is. Or if he was always just very gifted as a human.
With the flat of my tongue I lap over his tip, hearing his soft intake of breath as I do it again.
I tease him with little kitten licks and teasing flicks of my tongue, my eyes on him to watch every small reaction and micro-expression.
He’s so hard to read that I have to watch closely, but I’m getting better.