G E O R G I E
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The fire in the hearth crackled in the background, bathing Beau's two-story house in a warm, yellowish glow. It was neither cold nor dark in his house. Who would have thought Beau liked it cozy?
The soft stubble of carpet in his sleeping area tickled my bare feet and crept between my toes. I stood quietly beside him while he rummaged in one of his drawers. He had already transformed back and pulled on a pair of pants and now he was looking for a bath towel for me.
"Here," he said when he found it and handed it to me. He pointed to the large wooden tub that he had placed in the room. "The water is warm, use it before it cools down."
I nodded. "Thanks." I was still standing in his wet clothes. The olive-green carpet soaked up the water that dripped from the baggy sweatpants. My toes curled up with cold, and dark thoughts troubled my senses.
"Georgie," Beau ordered with a snarl.
I clenched my trembling hands. It wasn't Hades. It was all a misunderstanding. Hades was dead. And there was no Deathbringer either. It was pirates who wanted to auction us off to Selvian slave traders. Not a power-hungry god looking for revenge. No. "What?"
He closed the drawer with a jerk. “You're shaking. Now get in that damn tub.”
"No need to get angry right away," I snapped, then sighed as soon as the bitchy words left my mouth. Beau was angry. But not on me. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."
He just nodded and wordlessly pointed to the bathtub. He turned around so I could undress undisturbed. The flickering glow of the log fire he'd built earlier and now crackled slid down Beau's back, illuminating the long, bulging bangs that ran from his shoulder to his tailbone. He had scars, so many scars. And they were clearly from wolf claws.
The sight did something to me that I never wanted to feel again. I would have loved to have taken his painful past from his soul when his suffering was undone. What had happened?
I stripped off my clothes, still staring at Beau's back. It wasn't that I was afraid he would go back on his word and look at me. I stared at him because I couldn't be alone. I hadn't mentioned Xenos, Hawkings, or Beau to what that cloaked stranger had told me. Nor had I told them anything about the mysterious Deathbringer. why? I was pumping myself into something that was just spitting in my head. It was past. Basta.
I climbed into the tub and sighed with relief as the warm water surrounded me. I lowered myself deeper into the tub, dove under to get my hair wet as well, and then tilted my head back. Splendid.
“Come sit with me. You make me all nervous just standing around.' I asked myself with my eyes closed.
Beau, who had turned back to me, sat on the floor with his back to the tub. Eyes on the door - all the soldier. Unlike me, he wasn't relaxed, he looked like he was about to jump up and chase something. Or bring it down.
The splashing of water mingled with the cracking of logs as I shifted and slid toward him. My hand broke the still surface of the water and I gently stroked his shoulder. My fingers traced the beginnings of his scars. I wanted to kiss them all, touch them with my lips and give him warmth.
"It was my father," he said harshly.
I rested my forehead on his shoulder and closed my eyes. “Oh you moons....”
He remained silent for a while, only the fire could be heard. Then he continued, "He was a drunk, with more than a violent streak." His muscles tensed under me. “And he had very little control over his anger. My mother, she..."
I shuddered to imagine what his words were leading to. I lifted my head and continued to play my fingers on his skin. "Did he hurt her?" I groped my way softly.
But to my amazement, Beau shook his head. "No." He gave a dry laugh. 'She slept with someone else, cheated on her own mate. And gave birth to me. So I wasn't really his son, and Dad - André," he corrected himself, "never looked at me in that light. I was a bastard, nothing more."
My hand on his shoulder balled into a fist. 'How could he! You are so much more than that! This one... This one...' I searched desperately for an appropriate insult, but none seemed bad enough. “That…fucking stinky brain-dead pisser.”
He turned to me, his brows raised. "Fucking stinky brain-dead pants-piss?"
I nodded determinedly. "Yes exactly."
The corners of his mouth twitched. In a flash, he grabbed the edge of the pool, leaned over it and pressed a kiss to my lips.
I stared at him in perplexity. Then my cheeks turned red.
His gaze dropped to my lips and the green in his eyes flared up. Then it went deeper down to the base of my breasts, which peeked out of the water. His claws shot out and dug so deep into the tub that the wood gave and creaked.
He yanked her out of the tub and jumped back. "You're more dangerous than I thought, little one," he growled, a twinkle in his eyes. "I saw you. How he dragged you out of the water. The way he threw you over his back and ran.” The glitter turned to something dark that promised doom. The anger from earlier was back and I saw the fine wolfskin overlay on his skin.
"It wasn't your fault, you know?" I whispered.
"I almost intervened."
"Why aren't you?"
He came closer, one arm bent over the edge of the pool. “Because you fought. Because you fought well.” Something flashed across his face. Regret or loss, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "And because I won't always be able to protect you."
I saw the water wet his elbow. What was he implying? That he would turn away from me? That he didn't want to protect me? “You don't have to. I'll take care of myself.” But his words hurt me. Mates protected each other, took care of each other. made love
He nodded, but it felt like he was across the room. As if he would close a wall around himself and leave me outside.
"Stop that, Beau," I whispered. 'Don't back off. Don't push me off you."
He took his arm off the tub. "It has to be like that."