Seeing her in such anguish, Chase wanted to deal a little death of his own. The two Minions who'd betrayed her were already gone, but Dragos still had a brutal end coming to him. More than anything, Chase wanted to be the one to deliver it - prolonged and bloody, the more violent the better.
But he was careful to keep his hands tender as he brushed the pad of his thumb over a smear of soot that rode the delicate angle of her cheek. He swept the marks away and couldn't resist touching his lips to the furrowed center of her brow. The smoky tang of the clinic explosion clung to her skin and hair. Dried blood from the battle with Dragos's Hunter stained her clothes and dotted her face in dark, rusty speckles.
"Come here," he whispered, moving her out of his arms and helping her to her feet.
He took her hand and led her into the warmth of the adjacent bathroom. Steam wafted over the top of the long glass panels of the running shower. The silvery mist wreathed Tavia as she stood before him, silent, unresisting, while he carefully peeled her soiled clothing from her body. The dermaglyphs that painted her torso, from the base of her throat to the dusky tips of her br**sts and lower, down along the smooth plane of her belly and onto her bare thighs, flickered with the faintest blush of color.
Color that darkened as his eyes roamed over her in undeniable admiration.
Her hand trembled only a little as she reached out to cup her palm along the side of his jaw. Eyes the color of new leaves grew stormy and heavy-lidded as she stepped toward him and pressed her parted lips to his mouth.
Chase kissed her, calling upon every ounce of self-control to keep his mouth tender on hers despite the flare of desire that arced through his veins like lightning. It took even more effort to raise his hands between them and ease her away from his hardening body.
But this wasn't about his own need. He'd come to her only out of concern; if he stayed here any longer, it would be only to offer comfort, not to take anything more from her than he already had.
He slid open the shower door and motioned for her to step inside. He followed a moment after her, stripping hastily out of his own clothes, then palming the glass panel shut behind him. He washed her hair and body with tender, unhurried care. Soon the blood and ash of the violent hours earlier that night were sluiced away, leaving only Tavia's na**d beauty before him. Her glyphs stirred with color, the dark indigo, wine, and gold a more delicate palette than the one playing out over Chase's own nude skin. His mouth was full of his elongated fangs and a need that made his throat feel desert dry. He clamped his jaw tight to keep her from seeing just how badly he hungered for her.
Not that she could overlook the thick upward jut of his cock. The painfully obvious evidence of his desire filled the scant space between them, growing harder by the moment each time Tavia's wet, satiny skin brushed against him.
Her palm rested lightly on his chest. He could feel the drum of her pulse beating in her fingertips. He could hear it pounding in his ears, a low throb running undercurrent to the soft, sibilant hiss of the shower.
She wanted him too.
Despite the anguish that had all but wrecked her, desire put an amber spark in her green eyes. Her pupils narrowed, intensifying the fiery heat of her irises. Her palm skated in a slick path down the front of him, over his many healing cuts and contusions, injuries he barely noticed under the warm touch of her hand. But she noticed them. He saw her wince as she found the worst of them, heard her soft intake of breath as she studied the most recent wound - the one he'd taken at the end of the Hunter's blade.
"Does it hurt?" Her voice was velvety rough, the pearly tips of her fangs glinting as she spoke.
Chase shook his head, unable to find his voice as she continued her tactile exploration of his body. He didn't know whether to will her away or pray she'd keep going. His c**k answered for him, jerking with eager anticipation as her wet fingers trailed lower, toward his groin. Her name was a curse grated through his teeth and fangs as she trailed her fingers down his shaft and stroked the length of him. His body tensed under the hot spray of the shower, blood racing molten through his veins. He watched her soft, pale hand skate lightly over his hard flesh, agonizing in the teasing pleasure of it. Dying for her to take him fully in hand. Knowing he should stop her before he let things go too far again.
If he'd had even a meager scrap of honor in him, he'd have done just that.
He had a hundred reasons to simply turn and walk away as he'd intended all along. A hundred more reasons why a female as rare and unique, as miraculous, as Tavia deserved a better male - hell, any other male - than him. She deserved someone good and true, someone worthy, to usher her into the life that awaited her as one of the Breed.
But God help him, as he looked at her now, as he felt her touch ignite a heat all the way into his marrow, Chase felt a surge of possessiveness so complete and powerful, it left him shaking. He didn't want to crave her. Not on top of his other, hellish addictions. Blood and violence had nearly destroyed him. Looking at Tavia as she was now, na**d and dripping under the shower, so lovely in her transformation from beautiful woman to glorious Breed female, Chase could hardly imagine a more consuming want than what he felt when he was near her.
But as fevered as that need was, he touched her with utmost tenderness. One hand slipping beneath the wet curtain of her hair, he cupped her nape and gently drew her close. He kissed her, only the barest, briefest brushing of his lips against hers.
"The way we came together before," he rasped thickly, then bit off a harsh curse. "It was your first time. You deserved something better. I had no right - "
She silenced him with another kiss, more demanding than his had been. When she lifted her head to look up at him, there was no regret in her fiery eyes. Only need. Open and honest, shameless need. "You gave me exactly what I wanted."