Shards: Book One of the Anderian Series

Chapter 20: Conflicted

An hour later, I sat on the edge of a mattress that was more metal springs than cushion, dragging my fingers through tangled wet hair after what would have been a disappointing shower under any other circumstances. It had taken ten minutes to wash the shampoo out of my hair, and I didn't know if that was because of the low water pressure or the expired, off brand shampoo the motel provided. Forget conditioner. Residue from the bar of soap clung to my skin—no amount of scrubbing expunged it, but I would take tangled hair and scummy skin over smelling like smoke and sweat.

At least the out of the way motel had one thing going for it: it was a no-tell motel. Cian produced cash from god knows where, provided a couple of fake names, and without even asking for ID, the clerk handed over a key and went back to reading her smutty romance novel. And that's when I knew this day was truly a shit show, because I wasn't even remotely interested in getting a better look at the book.

The bathroom door opened and steamed from the bathroom flooded into the small room. Cian stepped out of the cloud of mist, his t-shirt clinging to his damp skin and leaving nothing to the imagination. And because I still had a pulse, a warm tingle grew between my legs. But possessed by lust as I might be, I couldn't forget that just an hour before, he'd almost choked me to death. It was a good reminder that no matter how different he might actually seem from the other Andariens; he was as much a dangerous monster as the rest of them.

Bed squealing as I shifted away from him, I looked at the dark paneled walls and braided my hair while he moved about the room. His shadow fell over me. My hands dropped into my laps, and I fiddled with my fingers while the tail of my braid dripped water down the pale pink t-shirt I'd found laying on the bed when I got out of the shower. It declared love for some place called Ellisville, and I wondered if he'd stolen it from a room or if the little motel had an actual gift shop.

"Bria."

"Think I'm going to get some sleep." I pulled back the covers. They were so thin the yellow light of the bedside lamp burned through them.

"Bria, look at me."

"Goodni—"

He grabbed me, not ungently, and turned me around. With his free hand, he touched my chin, tipping it up, forcing me to meet his blue gaze before he lowered his eyes to my neck. And for one terrible moment, I thought the monster in the car had returned as his pupils swelled.

I knew what he saw on my skin. Broken patches of blue and black. They were already forming by the time I undressed, and I stood shivering in the bathroom while the water heated, unwanted tears filling my eyes as the bruises appeared, looking like dead flowers in the snow.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he said, tracing every painful spot.

Heat followed behind his fingers, and while I knew it was his magic sinking into my skin, removing all traces of damage, my body was a lust filled traitor. My nipples strained against the thin fabric of the shirt, and when I didn't scream at him to stop touching me, he continued to moving those fingers down my throat, far beyond where the bruises had been, stilling only when he reached swell of my cleavage.

"I think—" my voice was thick, and I ran my tongue over my lips and tried again. "I think we should get some sleep. You were injured recently."

Removing myself from his embrace, I slid into the bed, mentally celebrating the rare victory of reason over desire. That vanished almost as soon as something sharp poked my shoulder, forcing me to scoot toward the middle, which gave Cian the perfect perch. The bed dipped as he sat, and I slid until the curve of my back pressed into lower hip. Deciding it was worth the risk, I twisted my neck and a bit of my anger and fear dwindled when I saw his face was in his hands.