If Ambrose notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Can I wash your hair for you?”
I swallow my nerves and nod.
I expect him to pull a bottle from somewhere. But instead, his hands go immediately to my scalp, and I smell the sweet, flowery scent of the shampoo that has somehow found its way to my hair.
Magic.
I’m not sure how it works. How can he produce things like shampoo, darkness, and fake stars out of thin air? But now that I’ve seen him work with magic many times, it feels like it’s a part of him as much or more than his wolf shifter part of himself. Unlike Nyx, who hates his vampire self, Ambrose thrives as a witch. Like he was always meant to have magic flowing through his veins.
“Relax, Lumi.” His words are gentle and without judgment. As if he knows exactly where my thoughts have wandered, but he doesn’t care.
I take a deep breath and try to relax into his hands as he lathers my scalp. I try to melt into the warmth of the bath, lettingthe soreness melt away. I try to be present. To let this moment flood my brain and feel how sweet and romantic it is.
But I can’t help myself. I find myself in his mind, gently prodding, looking, searching…
Why do I care if Nyx is coaching Ambrose? Why do I care if the bastard is talking to him or what he’s doing at all?
“It’s just me,” Ambrose says in my mind.
I freeze.
“It’s okay. I know who you’re looking for and why. But I promise, this time, it’s just me. No gimmicks from him. No advice. It wasn’t helpful anyway.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t say anything.
“My feelings haven’t changed. They’ll never change. If anything, after watching you, my feelings have intensified. Seeing you fight him. Defend yourself and your pack. It was incredibly hard not to step in and help you. But also sexy as hell watching how incredibly you were able to defend yourself.”
I blush, still unsure what to say back or even what my feelings are.
I yawn.
“I should get you to bed. It’s been a long day.”
I nod, but hate the thought of getting out of the tub and feeling my aching muscles again.
Ambrose must read my mind because one minute I’m in the tub, the next I’m wrapped in a thick warm blanket in his arms as he’s carrying me toward the bed.
I let my head snuggle into his chest and breathe in his familiar evergreen scent. It’s comforting for the first time in a long time.
He gently tucks me into the covers under the bed, never once uncovering me to take a peek at my naked body. He starts to move toward the chair in the corner, when I grab his arm.
I can’t bring myself to say the words, but my eyes or thoughts must tell him what I want him to do. Because he doesn’t hesitate as he climbs into the bed next to me.
Neither of us touches. We just stare at each other. Intensity spreading between us.
I don’t think. I let myself take the natural next step. I lean forward and let my lips brush against his.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t close the gap between the kiss. He lets me control it completely.
For a second, I don’t feel anything. Don’t do anything. My mind starts whirling…no, stop thinking…
And then I fall into him, like I can’t control it either. I wish there was an instant spark that confirmed once and for all that he’s my true mate. That I’ll fall desperately in love with him. It’s been him this whole time.
Nothing is instant, though. No world-changing, crashing crescendo of overwhelming lust. No earth-shattering sensations that curl my body frantically around his.
The kiss is nice. It’s warm, comforting, and tender.
Home—it makes me feel at home, completely secure and protected by him.