Asher
Her jaw drops then clicks shut when she hears me snicker. Elsbeth sits up and her head whips around to find me. I push my shoulder off the tree trunk I was leaning against and step out in the moonlight. If looks could kill, she’d have me on my knees.
I step closer and she scrambles to her feet, but before she can run, Maddox places his hands on her arms to hold her still.
Thorne’s T-shirt is shredded. Not that it was doing much to hide her body in the first place.
She’s covered head to toe in grime. There’s straw in her hair and smudges of blood on her arms and chest—probably from Maddox by the stains in the middle of his shirt.
“What the fuck?” She wriggles in his grasp with very little effort. She’s exhausted, we all know that, but the act continues.
“Unless you’d like to take a quick stroll around the trees with me?” I snark, and she returns it with a scowl. “I didn’t think so.”
She tracks my steps but doesn’t move until I lean down and hoist her bare ass over my shoulder. Her legs flail and her fists hit my back a couple times before she gives up. “Fucking brute, put me down.”
I grip her thigh just below her ass. Her skin is still hot and covered with leaves and mud from her being fucked in the middle of the orchard.
Dirt and her arousal cake her cheeks, and I’m almost jealous that I missed out on all the fun.
Almost because it’s freezing out here so Thorne would’ve had to use a decent amount of his magic to keep her from getting hypothermia.
That sort of endurance is hard to maintain, but they’ve only been out here for an hour.
He’ll have to rest and recoup before going any more rounds with Elsbeth.
“You coming?” I give Maddox a cheeky grin.
“I need to deal with this first.” He gestures to the mound of earth and tattered bits of her underwear tangled in the roots that were holding her down.
“Good luck, these trees haven’t tasted something so sweet in decades.”
“They’ll have their fill of her soon enough.” He winks to play along.
Hundreds of years ago, our ancestors would use the orchard as their playground.
The whole acreage was deemed ritual space for not only the legacies, but the entire coven.
After some members took things too far and the trees started to demand more than a little blood, it was time to close ranks and keep the harvest solitary.
Only Maddox knows the orchard’s true hunger, and I’m more than happy to keep it that way.
Maddox glances to the ass hanging off my shoulder and I’m reminded that while he got a taste of her, he didn’t get his fill of Elsbeth. I’ll have to wait to hear why that is. I turn toward the path that’ll take us to the manor.
“This is ridiculous,” Elsbeth says after a few silent minutes. “I can walk.”
“Your foot is bleeding,” I point out.
It’s a small gash, likely from a rock or stick, but it’ll need to be tended to once we reach the house. With the adrenaline and frigid conditions, I doubt she can feel it.
“So what? Are you worried I’ll get tetanus?” She huffs.
“Something like that. Also, the view isn’t terrible.” I slap her bare ass and she squeals.
“I’m not one of your booty calls you all pass around.” Her hands are holding onto the back of my shirt now. I guess she’s given up trying to walk on her own.
“Is that jealousy I hear?”
“Fuck off.”
I can’t stifle my laugh.
“We don’t share everyone. It’s not like that.”
We’re getting closer to the back patio, and I can see Fox through the windows standing at the stove. I quicken my steps because I can’t wait to see his face when we come through the door.
“I know,” she says in that smug way of hers. The one tone that means that she’s aware of a lot more than we think. “It’s all about the ritual.”
Her body is still quaking, and it seems like everything she says is difficult to get out between her clenched, chattering teeth. I can feel the muscles in her belly tensing against me and I curse myself for not bringing her a blanket or jacket.
“Sex magic is powerful . . . and addicting. It has to be ritualistic or it’s dangerous,” I clarify.
“Describing something as dangerous but still participating in it sounds a lot like self-destructive behavior. You should get that checked out with a therapist . . . or a psych ward.”
A smile pulls at my lips. “Didn’t know you cared so much.”
“I don’t.” She tenses. “But if it stops you from kidnapping women in the future . . .”
“We don’t do this. Ever.”
“I’m so special.” I can practically hear her eyes rolling.
What I can’t say is that she is special.
There is something about her that intrigues each of us for different reasons.
The threat she poses is nothing like we’ve ever dealt with before.
This beautiful stranger comes out of nowhere, stalks us, lures us into her trap, and has been one step ahead of us at every turn.
Maybe not now. I can’t imagine that she had the forethought to inveigle a tryst in the orchard.
But the fact that I’m questioning it shows just how deeply this woman has us concerned.
I readjust her weight on my shoulder to open the patio door—not because she’s anything close to heavy, but the sound she makes when I do makes me smile.
Fox spins around and he does a double take.
I can only imagine the racing thoughts hitting him.
Elsbeth’s bare ass covered in filth. Me with a wide grin.
And the absence of the two other men who ran her down out in the moonlight.
I should have grabbed my phone to take a picture because his expression is priceless and I wish Thorne and Maddox were here.
“I’m going to draw Elsbeth a bath, then she’ll be ready for dinner,” I tell him, and he nods.
I stay still, letting him have a moment to take it all in. His eyes rove over her ass and I swear he blushes before he notices blood. “The first-aid kit is in the hall closet.”
“On it,” I say as I turn toward the stairs.
“I have a healing ointment that will take care of that overnight,” Fox offers, reaching for one of the grimoires he has stacked on the kitchen counter.
He’s been looking for something for hours.
Not that he has any clue what it is, but he claims that he would know it when he found it.
Six hours later, he still hasn’t. “We should have all the ingredients fresh in the greenhouse.”
“Maddox should make it. This is his fault anyway.” I point to her foot and she huffs.
“I’m not a broken toy that needs super glue,” she chides from over my shoulder. “Hope you’re enjoying the view since you’re not doing anything to help me.”
“It’s not terrible.” Fox tightly smiles and tilts his head. After a moment, he directs his dismissing statement to me. “Give me a half hour. I’ll send Maddox or Thorne up with it.”
“Got it.” I shift Elsbeth again to get her attention. “Hear that, no tetanus for you after all.”
“Fuck you both.”
Fox’s brows rise with amusement and I snicker. Turning around, I don’t get to see either of their faces when I start to take the two of us up the stairs, but Fox bursts into laughter, which follows us.
When we get to the top floor, I have to carry her in my arms to avoid the low ceiling. I cradle her lower back and under her knees, but she crosses her arms over her chest like she’s throwing a tantrum. She isn’t fighting me, but maybe her new tactic is to freeze us out.
I bump the bathroom door open with my hip then set her down on the vanity to wrap a big, fluffy towel over her shoulders.
It’s not much, but it will warm her up while she waits for me to fill the bathtub.
If she gets in right away, she may go into shock, and I don’t want to have to deal with the others if that happens under my watch.
Not that it would be my fault. They’re the idiots that didn’t think before letting her run barefoot in twenty-degree weather.
I turn on the hot water and let it run while I gather the toiletries Thorne bought for her from the cabinet.
The tub is a deep clawfoot monstrosity that takes up too much space in one of the only bathrooms upstairs, but it gets used often.
Usually by Thorne after a rough workout.
I sprinkle in magnesium flakes for her sore muscles first, then dried sage for antibacterial wound care, and finish with lavender, because what bath isn’t complete without a little floral note for relaxation.
Though, I doubt lavender would ease any fire in Elsbeth, even if she ground it to a fine powder and snorted it.
Her head swivels as she watches me concoct the perfect healing whirlpool.
I lose her watchful eyes for a moment when I trek out to the hall closet to gather up bandages and a roll of gauze.
I won’t know how deep the laceration is until it’s properly cleaned and flushed of debris.
Which is going to hurt a lot. If she isn’t pissed enough already, she’ll be spitting mad and may end up throwing shampoo bottles at my head to share the wealth of pain.
I step back into the bathroom to find her tipping off the vanity top.
It’s not a long drop, but with tired muscles and an injury, she’s struggling to put her weight into her legs and hold up her towel at the same time.
Her modesty is pointless, but I hold onto the corner of the fabric and keep it in place as I offer her my arm.
I don’t think she’s going to accept help from me but am strangely elated when her nails sink right into the top of my forearm. I can barely feel it, but she draws blood, so I wince in case she’s watching for a reaction. The fresh, bright red makes a line under her dirty fingernails.