“Cuts, you said,” Tatiana said softly. “And bruises. I want to see you. I want to see your face.”
Involuntarily she looked down herself. She couldn’t remember looking like quite such a disaster before, not even for the worst of her disaster movies. A snort escaped her. “Trust me, you don’t, not until after I’ve cleaned up. Listen, I’m going to help bring down Justine, and that includes any of her allies – if she has any left. The Nightkind demesne owes me that much. Julian has already agreed, so I don’t know when I’m coming home.”
“I don’t know, Melly…”
“Mother, I’m not asking you for permission,” she interrupted. After her shake-fest a few minutes ago, she was surprised at how strong and focused she sounded. “I’m telling you what I’m going to do.”
A very long pause greeted that statement.
Then Tatiana replied, “I’m sending you twenty troops. That’s nonnegotiable. The Nightkind demesne owes me that much. What else do you need?”
A shower, rest, food. A resolution of some kind with Julian. None of it was anything her mother could give her. With an effort, she concentrated on practicalities. “Well, I don’t have anything, so I could use clothes, my phone, credit cards, cash card. Cash.”
“You’ll have all of it by early afternoon, along with your own weapons and body armor.”
“Okay, thanks.” Depending on how the search went, Melly hoped to be sound asleep when it arrived. She asked, “Is Bailey there?”
“No, she’s out, but I’ll send her with the troops. I know she needs to see you.”
“Sounds good. I love you.”
“I love you too, darling.” The gentleness in her mother’s voice enfolded her like an invisible hug, but it was the Light Fae Queen who said in an iron voice, “And Melly – make them pay.”
After she disconnected the call, she stood to limp into Julian’s bathroom. She couldn’t take it any longer. If one more delay came between her and clean soap and water, she might get indiscriminately violent.
Along with the rest of the house, the bathroom had been updated too. While the fixtures – sink, toilet, tub – were physically in the same places they had been in before, the décor had changed. As with everything else, Julian’s taste was simple. Dark cabinets and cream marble dominated, and the tub was now separate from a glass-fronted, walk-in shower.
She tore off her clothes, rolled them into a tight pile and set them on the floor by the door, hopefully to be burned later. Then she started hot water in the spacious tub and used a dollop of shampoo as bubble bath. While her bath ran, she dug around in the cabinets until she found spare toothbrushes.
She almost fell asleep leaning against the sink as she brushed her teeth, only coming awake with a start when she started to slide sideways.
Unh, Melly. Oh, no you don’t.
Not even her own exhaustion was going to hold her back. With single-minded determination, she climbed into the tub, submerged in the water and lathered her hair twice. By that point, the water was so dark with dirt, she had to let it drain and run a new bath. She had been cold for so long, the warmth that sank into her bones felt glorious. After running a soapy washcloth all over her body, she curled on her side and fell asleep.
She woke up to Julian lifting her out of the bath. Blearily, she took in details of his appearance. He was still shirtless but he must have showered, because he was damp all over, his hair slicked back. It looked darker when it was wet, which in turn emphasized the faint crow’s-feet fanning out from his eyes and the lines bracketing his hard mouth.
It felt so good to be in his arms, she curled against him and tucked her face into his damp neck. He carried her into his bedroom.
“How long was I in here?” A wide yawn cracked her jaw.
“Maybe forty-five minutes.”
“Any news?”
“Nothing to speak of.”
Reluctantly, she roused. “Put me down. I need to dry my hair at least partway. If I don’t, it’ll go crazy.”
“Don’t be so picky.” He set her down, but on the bed, not on the floor. The covers had been pulled back. She rolled off the bed to avoid getting the sheets wet, only to have him scoop her up and put her on the bed again. “Nobody cares what your hair looks like.”
“I don’t recall you being this annoying when we spent nights together before,” she told him grumpily, scowling. “It has nothing to do with what I look like. When my hair gets too tangled, it takes forever to get it brushed out again, and besides, I don’t want to sleep on a wet pillow. Stop moving me around like that, damn it. I want a towel and a hair dryer.”
He frowned at her. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”