Chapter 4
four
LIV
After an hour of swimming on my back, I was so dizzy that my head kept dipping underwater. The frazzled anxiety that chased me was enough to keep me moving.
I heard a snarl of, "What the fuck do you mean, she has a mate?" at some point. Whatever was said next was muffled by the water around my ears too much for me to hear.
The sound of his voice sent the most ridiculous butterflies through my stomach.
Niall.
I accidentally kicked the floating line that separated my lap lane from the rest of the pool, and my cry of pain was garbled beneath the water that covered my head with the motion.
When my arms flailed, my head went deep under the water, and I struggled to find something to grab. More pebbles cut my feet.
I finally managed to grab the side of the pool, but a pair of gigantic hands were on my hips, dragging me out of the water before I had the chance to pull myself up.
I hit my captor-slash-savior with a small burst of magic, but he was no stranger to the electric feel of my power hitting those solid muscles. The man didn't even flinch.
I sucked in a deep breath of air, coughing up water as I tried not to look at Niall.
Gorgeous, perfect, fucking Niall.
I’d wanted everything with him.
Him and his ridiculously detailed, stunning tattoos. And his wild, messy loose dark curls that were falling into his gorgeous brown eyes. And his whole perfect fucking face, damp from the water that had splashed when he jumped in the pool to save me.
It wasn't the first time I'd almost drowned.
Or the second.
Or even the third.
He'd always made a big deal out of me never swimming alone, and I was cautious enough not to, because this did always seem to happen.
"What are you doing, Livvy?"
That fucking voice.
My entire body ached.
"Swimming," I said, as if I hadn’t just seen the man I used to love more than life itself for the first time in two years.
"How many times have I told you not to swim alone?" His words came out in a low growl, like they always had when we were still together. "This happens every fucking time."
"I was fine. I’m always fine."
"Her feet are bleeding," Larson called from the hot tub. "She said they do that now."
I really was going to kill him.
He would deserve it.
Niall set me on the ledge of the pool and hauled himself out. His light gray t-shirt clung to him like a second skin thanks to the water, and I tried not to stare at his muscles.
Mostly failed.
"Why isn’t your mate here to make sure you don’t accidentally drown?" Niall asked, already walking toward the towels that had been hanging on that hook for at least two years, next to my bikini.
I hadn’t gone swimming since we broke up. We’d done it together a lot, and the memories were… well, I couldn’t handle them.
"They haven’t made a bargain," Larson said.
Dead. He was fucking dead.
"I noticed."
My face flushed.
Niall had basically just admitted to checking me out in the few minutes he’d been in the room. Looking for a mark was the only way to know if someone had made a bargain.
He tugged his soaked shirt over his head and tossed it on a hook to dry.
His pants went with it.
I hoped he’d ditch the boxer-briefs too, but alas, I couldn’t be that lucky.
He glanced over at me while he dried off. "Where is he?"
I realized he was talking to me, and blinked.
My mate.
He was asking about my mate.
Jonah.
Just like that, my mood went dark. "It’s complicated."
"Everything is, with fae."
He wasn’t wrong.
"How do you know he’s your mate without a bargain?" Niall asked. "You told me that's the only way to know. I asked. Repeatedly."
I ignored him.
Larson didn’t. "She says her magic affects him differently than it affects everyone else."
"How does it affect him?"
"She didn’t clarify."
I eased my feet out of the water, fighting to keep my expression even as I took in the gnarly soles.
Jonah was right. I needed a rest day. Or five.
What the hell was I going to do while the mess of skin healed, though? There were far more torn blisters than smooth skin. I had too much energy, and no way to expel it without my feet.
"What the fuck did you do?" There was a growl in Niall’s voice again as he prowled across the pool room like the panther form he favored, dragging the stiff towel over his barely-wet hair on his way.
I couldn't take my eyes off him.
Was he actually real? And here, next to me?
He kneeled at my side, spinning my ass on the tile beside the pool as he pulled my foot off the ground so he could check it out. "How did this happen?"
"I don’t think you’re in a position to be demanding answers from me." I struggled to keep myself upright with a palm braced against the tile as I fought to keep my other foot off the floor.
He carefully took my other foot too, his eyes narrowing as he saw similar wounds on the bottom. "Livvy."
"We’re not together anymore. You can’t just grab my feet." My words lacked any heat. Despite them, it felt stupidly nice to have him care about me. Knowing my fated mate wanted someone else had been affecting me more than I wanted to admit.
Niall looked up, his narrow-eyed gaze taking in the rest of me before he released one of my feet.
Just for a moment.
Long enough to reach over and grab the bikini strap that had slid down my arm at some point.
I looked down, and realized my boob was hanging out completely.
How long had it been fully on display?
Shit.
Niall pulled the strap back up until the swimsuit was covering my breast.
His hand returned to my ankle, carefully tipping my feet back as he took in the blisters. "Are these from running? You don’t run. You think it's torture."
"You can’t fix my clothes either," I said, dodging his question.
"You know your tits distract me."
The flush in my cheeks was almost as hot as the slickness I could suddenly feel between my thighs.
How many times had he teased me about how distracting my nipples were? How many times had he brought it up? Joked about it? Made me feel sexy without even trying?
How long had it been since anyone made me feel that way?
Jonah certainly hadn’t.
The sex wasn't good, the few times it had happened. When I looked at Gwen afterward, I understood why. We were complete opposites personality-wise, and physically, too. She was all soft and quiet and sweet, and I was all thin, sharp edges.
It was absolutely unfair that Niall could turn me on so easily and want me so badly, while my fucking fated mate wasn't even interested in me.
"I took up running after we broke up," I finally said.
"You threw me out. I never agreed to a breakup. Is that why the towel smells so bad? Because you took up running?" He didn't look up from my foot as he casually dropped the fact that he… what?
Didn't consider us broken up?
How the fuck could he claim that?
"Yeah. It's been there since the last time you and I went swimming together."
"Well you can’t run if this is the consequence." Niall met my eyes again. "Who is he? It hasn't been in the news. Why doesn’t he stop you?"
There was an edge to the words. He didn’t like the idea of me being with Jonah. Not at all. Guess his possessiveness had stuck around.
"He runs with me, and I don’t think he knows about the blisters."
"How doesn’t he know about the blisters? Do you fuck with socks on?"
"Something like that." I eased my feet away from Niall, and he finally let them go.
"I don’t think they fuck at all," Larson called out. "She was never this tense when she was with you."
I could officially imagine the blood dripping down his throat when one of my plants strangled him.
"Why are you concerned about my sex life, Lars? Is Rob not good enough in bed these days?" I tossed back, standing up.
The white-hot pain in my feet made my knees buckle. I bit my cheek so hard it bled, trying not to collapse.
Niall grabbed my hip, balancing me. Looking down, I saw his bare fingers on my skin, and memories flickered through my mind.
The way he'd gripped me like that as he fucked me from behind, in our bed.
His hand on my abdomen as he devoured me.
Niall stood up and grabbed my waist, lifting me just far enough off the floor that my feet didn’t touch the ground, and carrying me out of the room. Then down the hallway. "Where’s your healing stuff?"
He didn't have to ask if I had some. He knew I did.
"In my kitchen. The sink is the easiest place to wash and bandage my feet. Yes, I’m aware that it’s disgusting. I don’t care."
"So the blisters have been around for a while."
He had undoubtedly put together that it meant my fated mate hadn’t been around for a while, since as he’d so kindly pointed out, Jonah would’ve realized the blisters were there if we had sex.
"I’ve kept them at bay for a few months with the spellcasters’ cream, but the last few weeks have been…" I let out a harsh breath. "I’ll stay off them for a few hours, and they’ll be recovered enough to make it through my night run."
"Night run? There's a morning run too?"
"Maybe."
"How many miles are you doing?"
"You don’t want to know. I don’t even want to know."
Niall set me down next to the sink. "I want to know."
I sighed. "At least a marathon’s worth every day. Usually one and a half."
The way he jerked back told me I’d surprised him with the admission.
"I’ve got it from here. Thanks. You’ll probably need to drag Larson out of the pool too. He seems wrecked from the spell," I said.
I felt his gaze on me as I physically pushed him away and turned the water on.
It was routine for me to go through the process with numbing soap and cream, healing ointment, bandages, and clean socks from the dwindling mountain I’d stocked there a few days earlier.
Niall disappeared into the hallway at some point, going to find his brother. I refused to acknowledge the many things I felt about him being there and taking care of me.
Acknowledging them would only lead to more pain.
Niall and Larson must’ve brought spare clothes with them, because they were both clean and dry when they came out as I was finishing up with my feet.