She hated the cold. She hated winter. She hated having to feel the chill of it or to look out the window and see the snow swirling. That had made the night worse than it would have been otherwise, that bone-deep cold. She’d been terrified she would never be warm again.
With the warmth came a determination to ignore the danger she knew was also swirling outside the doors of the hotel. She closed her eyes and forced herself to slip into the darkness there, to create that wall between her and the reality of the memories that threatened to take hold.
That whole head-in-the-sand attitude never failed to make Cassie crazy when they were together.
Mica loved ignoring the fact that she didn’t have a real life. That she was always surrounded by danger, Breeds, and the realization that at any time the Breeds’ enemies could strike out at her instead of her friends.
They finally had.
A hard, rough breath shuddered through her as she pushed back the knowledge again. It was harder this time. Of course, she hadn’t faced another night quite like tonight either.
Yep, she was an ostrich. Feathers, plume, head in the sand, whole nine yards.
Well, except those long bird legs. She still had the short legs. But the rest of it. Yes indeed, just list her name with the feathered genera of the world, because she wasn’t about to open her eyes and accept reality anytime soon.
She’d just put that little thing on her to-do list for next year, maybe.
“Are you okay in there?”
Mica jumped, startled to hear his voice so close, just outside the frosted glass of the shower door.
“I’m fine. Go away.”
She needed just a few more minutes to assure herself, to convince herself she wasn’t here standing beneath the pouring hot water because she had just spent hours in the driving rain running from Breed enemies. After all, she wasn’t a Breed, right? She was as human as they came, and no one could say any different.
“Go away? Mica, my feelings might be hurt. Are you certain you don’t need your back washed? Or perhaps your front?” He was clearly amused, the exotic edge of his voice stroking over her senses.
God, she loved that little hint of an accent. Just a hint, one was never certain it was really there, but the sound of it just stroked across her senses like an erotic caress.
“You’d have to have feelings first, Navarro. And I’m able to wash my back, and my front, perfectly on my own.” A feminine sniff of disdain met his suggestion, though she could feel her heart trying to race in excitement.
This wasn’t the first time Navarro had made such a comment, but they never failed to steal her breath.
She couldn’t help it. Unlike many other Breeds, there was simply something about Navarro that she couldn’t force herself to ignore.
Or perhaps she didn’t want to ignore it. The excitement, the sense of wonder, the surge of aroused adrenaline were a pleasure in and of themselves that she seemed to be becoming addicted to.
“You’re wounding my heart, Amaya,” he drawled. “I believe I may have to come up with some punishment in retaliation.”
One of these days, she was going to ask him exactly what that word meant. She knew it was Japanese, but she hadn’t yet forced herself to learn the meaning of it. If she learned it simply meant friendship, or some kind of child, her ego might be irreparably stripped.
“As long as that punishment doesn’t include invading my shower or anything cold,” she assured him, though she could feel every cell in her body threatening to send out a scent that would attest otherwise.
“Mica, I want to see your ribs.” His voice hardened imperceptibly.
Mica’s ni**les hardened.
Just that fast, the thought of him touching her ribs, so close to the swollen mounds of her br**sts, and she was becoming flushed with an arousal she couldn’t hide.
Would the water cover the scent?
Heat flushed her face at the thought of being unable to hide the telling scent of an arousal so strong that even now she could feel the betraying slickness gathering between her thighs.
“I’m just sore,” she tried to assure him as her fingers glanced over the area. “Nothing’s broken, just bruised.”
She stroked the curve of her own breast, her fingertips eliciting a wave of pleasure that swept through her entire system.
She would love to have him touch her. To feel his fingers stroking over her flesh gently, his lips touching her, not just kissing her, but stroking against her flesh, covering her nipple, suckling it, licking it.