“I love you and I worry so much about you. At least, once you’re married to me, I won’t have to worry about you dying in some godawful fight.” He started to wrap his arms around me but then froze. “Crap, that would have hurt. I’m sorry.”
I turned around, feeling ragged and sore and ready to cry. “I just need a good night’s sleep,” I said. “The doctor gave me a sleeping draught that works for the Fae. I didn’t want to take it while everybody was here. Can you get me some water?”
He nodded, darting into the kitchen and returning with a glass of cold water. I poured the potion into the glass and then, after staring at it for a moment, I drank it down. Herne tucked me back into the recliner and I leaned back, but was still upright enough so that I wouldn’t choke if I vomited.
As Herne bedded down on the sofa, Mr. Rumblebutt rejoined me, curling up on my lap. I closed my eyes, wondering if the ghosts who had once inhabited my house would ever return. This had been a murder house, with a double murder taking place. We had cleansed it and evicted the spirits. But if there were any spooks waiting to pounce, they kept to themselves for the night. I dozed off, thanks to the sleeping potion and Mr. Rumblebutt’s churning motor—he kept up a steady purr-PURR-purr-PURR until I fell asleep. I slept through the entire night, not even waking once.
By the time I opened my eyes, Herne was gone, and Angel was in the kitchen making breakfast. She must have heard me stir because she peeked into the living room, a smile on her face.
“You need help?”
I started to say no, but as I brought the recliner to an upright position and started to stand, I realized I was sore as shit and that my entire body felt like it had been run over by a semi.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
She came over and helped me stand. As I straightened, the stitches on my side pulled and I let out a groan. I pulled up my sleep shirt and took a look. My body had already been bruised up from the last go-round, but now my entire side was black and blue. I couldn’t see the stitches—they were under the bandage—but there didn’t appear to be any seeping blood, so that was good.
“Let’s get this changed and then I’ll help you shower and get dressed.” She wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I let her help me up the stairs and into my bedroom. While she set the shower temperature to warm, I stripped out of my clothes. I felt grungy and grubby and covered with a layer of grime.
“Can you scrub my back for me? I think I’m going to need some gentle stretching for a couple days to get back to full strength.”
“A couple of days? Woman, you’re dealing with a row of stitches and a body covered in bruises. I think it’s going to take more than a couple days. Now come on, get in there and sit on that bench.” She made me sit on the shower bench. “What ‘smell-good’ do you want me to use for your back?”
I grinned. That was Angel’s term for all the various body washes, gels, soaps, and lotions we had accumulated.
“The wild lilac.” I loved the smell of lilacs. While I also liked the scent of roses, lilac was one of the only floral fragrances I liked. I loved the smell of most flowers, but when they were made into a body wash, so many of the floral scents were pungent and unnatural.
She poured a stream of the gel onto the bath poof and gently began scrubbing my back for me as I leaned forward, letting the water stream over my head.
“You’ll get wet,” I said, feeling a little guilty for needing her help.
“So what? I’m wearing a T-shirt and jeans. I can change.” She finished scrubbing my back and then handed me the poof. “Here. I’ll just sit on the vanity bench outside and wait for you. I don’t want you to get dizzy and fall.”
I finished washing, lathering up as she pulled out her phone and began reading a book. I washed my hair, too, and when I finally felt clean, I eased my way out of the shower and she draped me in a large bath sheet. I toweled off, wrapping my