that possibility, so I decided to ignore it instead.
“Mmm,” Zayvion said. With his hand still on my shoulder, he somehow turned on the shower and simultaneously helped me over to it.
I plucked at my pajamas and wanted to growl in frustration. Why had I worn a shirt with buttons on it? Buttons were too complicated. Buttons took coordination. Why didn’t I have a pajama shirt with snaps or Velco or something?
Then Zayvion’s hands were there, unbuttoning my shirt. I squinted up at him, even though the only light in the bathroom was the ghostly gray coming through the frosted window and the wedge of yellow that the hall light cast across the floor and wall.
Zayvion’s gaze did not stray. He looked me straight in the eyes while he unhooked the last button and pulled my shirt away from my shoulders.
I was naked beneath my shirt.
I should be feeling all sorts of things in this awkward, embarrassing, needy moment. And even though a bunch of emotions lined up for attention, I ignored them all. I had been doing this alone for a long time now, nursing myself through the pain of using magic. And right now, I was grateful he was there, grateful to have someone helping me when I was sick.
Besides, if he made one funny move, I’d knock him upside the head with the plunger.
He placed his fingertips on either side of my hips. Even through the pain, I noticed his hands trembled slightly, noticed his breathing was mechanical and even, as if he was having to think about it. Still holding my gaze with that calm, Zen expression, he drew the elastic of my pants down over my hips, off my butt. He paused at my thighs and frowned, probably realizing that he was going to have to kneel and that oh-so-polite eye contact was about to be blown.
I eyed the plunger.
“Can you lift your legs?” he asked.
I had no idea. I put one hand on the wall to steady myself. “Sure.”
Zayvion knelt and I lifted one leg. The heat from his body, so near my skin, was a mix of pain and pleasure as he tugged off my pants and panties.
Not a stitch of clothes on me. I did not remember getting naked with this man before, though I know I had. Still, getting naked when I was shaking with cold and fever and felt like a steaming pile of something the dog had left on the yard was not exactly how I had pictured our sexy encounter. Even if I could feel the warm exhale of my maybe-ex-boyfriend’s breath high on my thigh.
He inhaled sharply, surprised. “Allie, where did you get that?”
I pulled my hand off of my eyes. What did I have down there that would get that kind of reaction out of him? “What?”
His fingers pressed gently at the edge of the mark on my thigh, the glyph Lon Trager had stabbed into me.
Oh. Right. That. So much for sexy.
And I swear, if I didn’t get into hot water right this damn minute, I was going to shake apart. “Got jumped on bus,” I chattered. “C-cold, Zay. Move.”
He stood, and his wide hands steadied me through the last few steps and then into the warmth of the shower.
I wrapped my arms around my ribs and stuck my head under the water.
“How many aspirin did you take?” he asked.
“Three.”
“Think you can take one more?”
One? I’d chew through a case of them. “Yes.”
Zayvion left. I thought about soap but didn’t want to move from beneath the water’s warmth. Then Zayvion was back. “Here,” he said.
I looked over, realized the shower curtain was open-had been open the whole time. Water was splashing out over towels I had not put on the floor. Zayvion held a cup in one hand and a pill-blue, and not aspirin-in the other.
“What?”
“It’s for migraines. It should be fine with the aspirin. And this is orange juice.”
I stood there staring at the cup like it was made of snakes. I didn’t have orange juice in my house.
He interpreted my expression correctly. “I went out. Thought you’d be up for breakfast.”
“You cooked?”
“If you count bagels and orange juice cooking, yes.”
I took the pill out of his hand, read the tiny ink stamp on it. Brand-name painkiller. Stronger than aspirin. “Buy this?”
“Those, I keep on me. You aren’t the only one who uses magic.”
I popped the pill and drank down the rest of the orange juice. I needed all the energy I could get. I had a breakfast date in an hour, and then a meeting with Pike and the police, and quite possibly a drug and blood magic ex-con to find. I pushed the cup back at him, looked him straight in the eye. “Thanks.” And pointedly closed the shower curtain.
“Do you know who it was? On the bus?” he asked.
Apparently closing the curtain wasn’t enough of a hint that I wanted a little “me” time.
“Trager,” I said. “Lon Trager.” I dunked my head back under the water, shampooed and rinsed my hair, and rubbed soap over my skin. It didn’t sting as badly as the last time I’d washed. I didn’t know if I owed that to Zayvion’s soothing fingers, or if the aspirin was kicking in.
When I came up for air and turned off the water, I still didn’t feel fabulous, but the aspirin and migraine meds had hit really fast. I pulled back the curtain just enough to look out. Zayvion’s wide back was to me. He stared in my medicine cabinet.
“A little space, please?” I asked.
He closed the medicine cabinet. “Do you have a needle?” he asked without turning around. The mirror in front of him was fogged, so I couldn’t see his reflection.
“No.”
“No?”
“Do I look like someone who sews?”
He made a frustrated sound. “Allie,” he said, still not turning around. “I need to unbind that glyph from your leg. Since you aren’t the sewing type, I’ll need to use a knife.”
Well, hello, Mr. Psycho-Killer. What’d you do with my maybe-ex-boyfriend?
“Like hell you will,” I said.
He turned. Yep, that was a knife in his hand.
“If you use that on me, Jones, I will kick your ass with that plunger, fever or no fever.” Sure, I talked a big fight, but right now, all I had at my disposal was a bar of soap and a loofah. Well, and magic.
“What do you know about blood magic?” Zayvion asked. He leaned his hip against my sink and kept the knife low. “Have you studied it?”
“It’s illegal.”
“Have you studied it?”
“No.”
He closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face and then the back of his neck. “Why didn’t your father want you to know these things? He knew you had great potential with magic. He had to know you would use it in ways that were not taught in college. Why wouldn’t he want you to have the knowledge so you could keep yourself safe from shit like this?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I think he expected me to stay dependent on him for those kinds of things. He never thought I’d leave him, leave the life he wanted me to live. He never thought I could stand on my own two feet without him.”
“And you had to go out there and prove him wrong, didn’t you?”
“I’m just full of disappointments like that. Now put down the dagger and hand me a towel.”
