Burning Dawn (Angels of the Dark #3)(41)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Kulta.”

Hot tears streaked down her cheeks as she sagged into a panting, boneless puddle. “Please.”

“Did someone harm you?” he asked, his tone so quiet she barely heard him.

“Please.”

Frowning, he tenderly cleaned her face with strokes of his thumb. “All right. I’ll take you home, and wash you.”

“Hate to break up the party,” Axel said, “but two Phoenix warriors were here looking for you, my man. They were pretty upset.”

Panic hit Elin. If Thane hunted Ardeo and Orson…if the three had a little chat…

Her secret would not be a secret anymore.

Elin began to fight.

Hatred and determination fought for dominance in Thane’s expression, but still he cooed softly to her, reassuring her that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. When finally she calmed, he said to Axel, “Take Bellorie to Xerxes, and tell the warrior of the Phoenix.” He scooped Elin into his arms, cradled her close to his chest, and shot straight into the air.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THANE COULDN’T BELIEVE the day he’d had. He and his boys had almost died in the building collapse. If not for the Water of Life, they would have. Within seconds of taking a sip of the healing agent, their broken bones had mended, torn muscles had woven back together, and dry veins had replenished.

Once healed, they’d pulled the humans from the rubble, and fed each a drop of the Water, as well, ensuring no lives were lost. Unfortunately, news stations were now blasting the story of the three odd-looking males who’d “preformed one of the world’s greatest miracles.”

He was a bundle of emotions. Relieved the humans survived. Guilty for not following orders and thereby leading to the blast, and discovery. After all, a mistake that turned out well did not make it any less of a mistake. He was even worried. What would happen next?

What would Zacharel say? Would his leader reprimand him? Or finally kick him out?

Just then, Thane cared.

Without his strength, his wings, how would he protect Elin?

Back at the club, he had gone in search of her, thinking he would keep her by his side for the rest of the day, just in case the prince decided to attack on his home turf.

Lying to yourself? No. But massaging the truth? Definitely.

The truth, without any massaging: he’d wanted Elin in his bed, naked. He’d wanted his hands on her. His mouth on her. He’d wanted to thrust inside her and hear her cry his name.

As the Rathbone building had collapsed around him, his only thought had been this: he couldn’t leave this world without having Elin in every way.

Elin, who hated blood and didn’t realize his soul was soaked in it.

Now, he carried her through his suite and into the bathroom, placing her on the toilet lid. He sent Xerxes a mental command.

Relocate Bellorie. I don’t want her at the club.

She’d caused this.

Did you sleep with her? Xerxes demanded, his shock evident.

No. Her presence offends me.

There was no more need to discuss. Very well.

Elin was silent, her mind probably somewhere else. The past, most likely.

Moving as swiftly as possible, he locked the doors and drew a steaming bath. She offered no protest as he stripped her and looked her over, searching for injuries. Her skin was pallid in places and flushed in others, her freckles stark. But her beautiful br**sts, topped by little pink ni**les, and her stomach, flat and soft, and her legs, long and lithe, were all unmarred.

“Elin,” he said softly.

Finally, movement. She wrapped her arms around her middle—to warm herself against the chill in the air, or to at last shield herself from his view?—and he saw the beginning of a bruise on her right side.

He hissed in a breath. Elin…in pain…

His hands fisted as something inside him broke. Or finally yanked out some of the weeds. He remembered Elin’s screams, her voice laced with fear and broken at the edges. The sound hadn’t aroused him; that was no surprise—it hadn’t at camp, either. But it had tormented him. He would have done anything to make it stop.

He remembered the way some of his lovers had looked at him over the years—as he had once looked at his demon captors. What would he do if Elin ever looked at him that way?

Die, he realized. Some part of him would die. His last shred of decency, perhaps. He would be no better than the monsters he fought.

Are you any better now?

The thought jolted him. He was. Now. Finally. Before, he’d been dead. Choked by those weeds. Now he could breathe. He lived.

He crouched in front of Elin and traced his knuckles over the discoloration on her ribs. “Why do you have this, kulta?”

She kept her gaze on the tiled floor, saying softly, “I don’t know. I mean, I fought Axel when he tried to pick me up and I fell, and it hurt. Maybe then?”

Axel had not protected Thane’s treasure. He and Axel needed to have a chat.

Thane picked Elin up and settled her in the hot water. He perched at the edge of the tub, wondering if he should bathe her or just allow her to soak.

“Join me,” she beseeched.

The words were soft, barely audible. Even still, they caused his entire world to shift.

“No, kulta.” He would make the bath sexual rather than comforting, and she was too vulnerable right now. “You are not in a good place right now. Your decisions aren’t—”

Haunted smoked-glass eyes found him and pierced all the way to his soul. “Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

My female should not have to beg for anything. “All right.” So easily swayed. After a moment’s hesitation, he removed his robe, steeling himself against the excruciating rapture to come, and climbed in behind her. Liquid heat lapped at his skin as he drew her between his legs and settled her against his chest.

Careful. He adjusted her position, or rather, tried to, but no matter her angle, his erection pressed against some part of her. He shuddered, fighting the urge to rub against her. Can’t…resist… He had the most exquisite view of her body. A long strand of midnight hair clung to her dampened skin, the end wrapping around her pearled nipple. Droplets of water clung to the flat plane of her stomach.

“I’ll clean you now.” Remain detached. He soaped her from neck to waist. At first, he managed to keep his mind on other things. The meeting with Zacharel tomorrow, concerning his actions at Rathbone Industries.

Would he receive another whipping?

That led to thoughts of tracking the demon prince and dishing out a whipping of his own. All the while Elin remained still and quiet, but she was also soft and sweet, her scent rivaling all distractions, and it wasn’t long before the tether on his resistance frayed, then split and he accidentally-on-purpose grazed her nipple with his knuckles.