Apocalyptic by Trina M Lee

Author:Trina M Lee
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Trina M. Lee
Published: 2018-09-07T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“What the hell happened?” Falon blurted the second the hotel room door swung shut. He locked it and shed his long coat, flinging it over the desk chair. “Did Salem screw you over? And he has the nerve to call me a traitor.”

“No way, you first.” I waved a hand, indicating his bruised face. “Did Bane do this? Why the hell did you go after him?”

The bruises had healed significantly since his arrival at the Kiss. Still, they lingered. It took an assault loaded with a fuck ton of power to leave marks on an immortal. I marveled at the sight of Falon’s beautiful face marred by violence. I felt it between my legs.

“Do not say his name,” Falon hissed, shoving the chair so it bounced against the desk. “Tell me what happened. You’re dark as fucking sin, Alexa. Don’t walk away from me.”

Dropping clothing as I went, I headed for the large ensuite and turned on the water in the shower. I peeled off my bra and panties before untying my hair from its disheveled braid. I wanted to scrub the entire night away. Since I couldn’t do that, a layer of skin would have to do.

Falon strode into the bathroom behind me. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a shower.” I shot him a look that said ‘duh’ and stepped beneath the hot stream. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’ve lost whatever was left of your damn fool mind.” His expression guarded, Falon disrobed.

A pricey shirt and a pair of pants with trendy names I didn’t know hit the floor. They were in rough shape anyway. Beneath the fashion mag duds, he went commando. Tall, naked, and undeniably divine. I stared at the cuts and bruises that marked him. Wounds from blades, fists, and magic covered his torso. He’d gone after Bane, but why?

Falon stepped into the shower, nudging me aside so he could take over the hot spray of water. Scrubbing both hands over his silver hair, the water cascaded over him. I kind of wanted to eat him a little bit. Unable to take my eyes off him, I fumbled around for the shampoo.

“You think this is bad?” Falon gestured to his wounds. “It’s nothing. I won’t even feel it tomorrow. You’ll still be dark as fuck. What exactly did you do?”

He swiped the shampoo bottle from my hand and squeezed way too much into his palm. Slapping it into his hair, he worked up a huge lather. Taking his sweet time dominating the spray.

“I failed,” I said, tone absent and detached. Spying a fresh bar of soap on the ledge, I rolled it around in my wet hands. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. I don’t want to talk about it.”

No, I did not. If I thought about it, I would break. And if I broke there was nothing and no one to put me back together. Not anymore.

Rather than give myself a chance to think about it, I ran the bar of soap over Falon’s abdomen.

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