CHAPTER 12
Rue
Slade’s hold is gentle as he phases me up the stairs. Normally, this kind of speed would make my stomach lurch, but strangely, it doesn’t this time. I can even make out some details of our surroundings, which is unusual. Typically, everything is a blur, but I catch a glimpse of the messy bed sheets as we enter his room.
He slows, opening the door to the bathroom before stepping inside. It’s still slightly humid from my boiling hot shower earlier, but the fog covering the mirror has receded to the edges. I’m able to clearly see the angry, red hand print around my neck and the blood splattered across my chest, neck, and face.
Slade sets me on the counter, and I let out a hiss, trying to jump back into his arms because the marble is freezing against my thighs and his shirt doesn’t do much to protect my ass.
His lips quirk into a smirk as he catches me, spinning toward the rack to reach for a towel. Holding me up with one hand, he uses the other to spread the fluffy cloth over the surface before placing me on it.
“Oh, that’s much better. Thank you,” I whisper, sort of in awe at the sweet gesture.
He doesn’t say anything as he turns the knob over to warm, scrubs his hands clean like he’s done this a million times before—which knowing his reputation—he probably has, and then searches in the closet to the left for a washcloth. He plucks a plush white one out before wetting it under the water, then ever so softly, begins dabbing the blood off me.
With each careful stroke of the rag, he erases the evidence of the vampire’s attack. But he keeps pausing to stare at my neck, a reminder that will take a bit to heal. I reach a hand up to touch it and find it’s surprisingly not as sore as I expected. “Looks worse than it is,” I comment quietly.
His gaze locks with mine, his normally icy blue eyes a storm of intensity. “There’s nothing worse than seeing you hurt.” His fingers graze the edges of the handprint, the touch sending shivers down my spine. “I hate that I wasn’t fast enough to stop her from touching you,” he breathes, voice thick with regret.
I catch his hand before he can wipe at my face again. “Slade, it’s not your fault.”
He shakes his head. “We’ll have to agree to disagree, ma douce goutte.” He leans closer, his forehead resting against mine as he exhales a shaky breath. “She could’ve snapped your neck in an instant. We’re lucky she wanted to toy with you first. Thankfully, your magic protected you until I could get there.” He pauses, thinking. “You know, I wonder if a life or death scenario makes a difference when it comes out.”
I shrug. “It’s possible. I doubt it’s a coincidence, but I’d rather not test it again.”
That pulls a rumble from his chest. “Absolutely not. We’ll see if we can find another way to coax your magic out.”
Slade tosses the rag into the sink before offering me a helping hand off the counter. “Sooo,” I begin, drawing it out, “do you have anything else I can wear or should I keep walking around in one of your shirts all day?”
“Mmm, I do quite like seeing you in my shirt. Let’s find another one, shall we?” he asks, leading me to his closet. It’s larger than I expected, filled with everything he could ever need. He plucks another white dress shirt off the hanger, and I tug the stained one off, trading with him.
As I fasten the buttons of Slade’s shirt, his eyes banked with heat, never leave mine. The intense gaze makes me feel both craved and desired in equal measure. When I’m finished, he grins mischievously before tucking his fingers into his waistband and dropping his sweats to the floor. My face flames as I stare, entranced by the beauty of his naked form.
“Slade Dumont, do you go commando everywhere?” I blurt.
That pulls a true laugh out of him. “I find boxer briefs so damn restricting. I swear whoever invented them and brassieres had a kink to see the world suffer. Corsets might as well have been torture devices.” He turns to find something to change into, and that’s when a gasp escapes me.
My feet move of their own accord as I make my way to him, dropping to my knees to study the side of his thigh. There’s a mark in the same swirling pattern as the one on my neck, though it’s much larger and curls onto his ass. And it’s stunning, honestly.
“Did this appear when mine did?” I ask out of curiosity, entranced by it. Witches don’t have true mates or soulmatches in the same way vampires and shifters do. Our “mates’ are usually chosen, though we do mate in threes, so this is completely new territory. I love my mark and it makes me beyond giddy inside knowing he has one too.
Slade inhales sharply, his breath hitching as my fingertips glide across the mark on his thigh. “Yes. These sorts of marks only appear between true mates,” he responds, confirming what I suspected.
I continue to caress the intricate pattern, feeling the warmth radiating from the mark. It’s as if it pulses with a life of its own, connecting us in ways I can’t quite comprehend.
Slade chuckles silently, causing his cock to jump up as if to say hello. Holy moon crystals, he’s so hexin’ big. And I took that shiz like a champ.
That’s when it hits me how close I am to his meat sword and my mouth waters at the sight. Maybe I should return the favor from this morning...
But before I can act on that thought, my stomach rumbles, reminding me I didn’t get the chance to eat.
Slade tugs on a silky pair of black pants, covering up my view. Apparently, I must make a noise of protest because he pauses, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “Hungry, are we?” he teases, his voice dripping with innuendo.
My cheeks flush. “In more ways than one.”
His eyes sparkle with amusement. “How about we get you fed, then?” I reach for his waistband, all too eager. His hand around my wrist stops me. “Ah, ah, real food first. My blood sated you for a while, but you do still need to eat. Then I’ll gladly feed you my cock, mon amour.”
“I’m holding you to that,” I grumble.
The salty flavor explodes on my tongue, and a moan escapes me as I swallow. “That good, huh?” Slade teases as I reach for another piece of bacon.
“It’s divine,” I mumble through my mouthful of food.
“Nuit, I could listen to you make those noises all day,“ he replies huskily, wiping his hands on a towel next to the stove.
I’m impressed by his culinary skills, even if he did only make the basics—eggs, grits, and toast. Can’t forget the bacon either because it was cooked to perfection. Not too crispy, but not a limp noodle either. It’s just right.
And now I’m starting to sound like goldilocks over bacon.
I clear my throat. “Do you happen to have some tea stashed anywhere? I’d love to—“
An angry screech cuts me off before I can finish my sentence. I startle as a tiny little creature jumps onto the counter and scampers toward Slade, maneuvering by my plate and the other various items strewn about. When it gets close enough, it launches at the vampire lord, landing on his shoulder expertly. My mouth drops open in shock when he reaches up to give it a tiny pat on the head, like all of this is a normal day for him. Which, I guess it might be.
“Sucette, this is Rue, my mate.” He waggles a finger at her. “Be nice.”
I swear Sucette huffs at him as if he’s insufferable before turning her little eyes to me.
“Suck-ette?” I ask, attempting to recreate his pronunciation.
Slade chuckles at my horrible French. “No, mon amour. Soos-ette,“ he says again, putting emphasis on the double O sound.
“Sucette,” I try again and I know I have it right when the sugar glider herself chitters happily, doing a spin on Slade’s shoulder. “You have a sugar glider?” I ask incredulously. I didn’t expect him to have a pet at all, let alone something innocent and cuddly. If anything, I figured he’d have a hellhound he stole from Hell or something. Which, maybe, I can convince him to do. Hmm..
Slade rolls his eyes. “Not by choice,” he says grumpily, but the hearts in his eyes tell a completely different story. Oh hexes, why is it so hot seeing someone like Slade infatuated with a tiny, helpless animal? As if I needed anything else to endear me to him.
Sucette nibbles his earlobe before hopping onto the counter, circling back the way she came. She makes a few little noises in that direction, like she’s trying to get our attention. Curiosity getting the better of me, I follow Sucette’s lead as she glides from the counter to the floor. Slade trails behind us as she scampers down the hallway.
She stops outside a door that’s like all the other ones and I raise a questioning eyebrow in Slade’s direction. Suddenly, a shrill ring blasts out of a cell phone and Slade curses as he turns the knob and steps inside. “This is my office,” he says, sweeping a hand out. “And that’s your wolves’ ringtone.”
A spike of hurt spears me in my chest when I think about them. Have they even realized what happened? Or do they know and simply not care?
The call ends before Slade answers, probably because he’s smirking at the screen. A few swipes later and he whistles under his breath. “Ten missed calls, huh? Fucking took those batards long enough,“ he snarls. He taps a button before bringing it up to his ear.
It doesn’t ring once before they answer. “Slade!” I recognize the booming tone immediately as Caylix’s from across the room. “Rue is missing—“
“Did you listen to my voicemail?” Slade interrupts casually, but there’s a thread of anger in his voice.
“No, didn’t you hear me? Rue is missing. I’ve been busy. Kathan was hurt and—“ I gasp, my heart dropping to my toes as I make my way closer, wanting to hear everything. Hexes! Kathan was hurt? I swear, if Lance had something to do with it... I barely catch the tail end of what Caylix says next over the roaring in my ears. “We only got back to the cabin a few hours ago to discover she was missing. We’ve been running down any lead we can trying to find her.”
They’ve been looking for me? I figured they’d completely forgotten me by now, considering they haven’t come knocking on Slade’s door to check. But if they only discovered I was missing a few hours ago, that would make sense. I’m not sure how to feel about it though.
Slade sighs. “Well, apparently, you aren’t searching hard enough. Our little witch is safe and sound, no thanks to you lot.”
The other end of the phone erupts into chaos. I can’t make anything out, but I hear Kathan and Rhys’ voices mixed with Arya’s, too.
“You know, I wonder. Have you heard that little hitch in her breath she makes when she comes?” Slade asks, and the talking over one another stops. Three growls follow the beat of silence. “Good. Now you’re listening. Pull yourselves together and get to my estate. We have much to talk about.” Then he hangs up without another word.
Hex me, that was hot.