Page 67 of Ash Storm

Reka

At first, Reka’s hands were shaking so hard, she struggled to take off the sweats and T-shirt the men had let her borrow. She hadn’t asked who they belonged to, but knew it wasn’t any of the men. Their clothes would be even bigger.

A pang of gratitude struck her when she thought of Ash, standing outside, keeping watch, making sure she was safe. But no, that didn’t feel right. What she was feeling wasn’t gratitude—it was something much warmer.

Hot, even.

Her dusky nipples pebbled.

And she recognized the feeling for what it was—sexual excitement—but didn’t understand how she could feel something like this after what she’d been through.

Maybe it’s the trauma.

But no, that felt wrong, too. Her feelings for Ash were completely separate from any trauma she’d endured. She felt as if she knew him, somehow, this big, brave man who’d risked everything to save her, and who made her wish they’d met under different circumstances.

She got into the shower. The water was warm and the pressure just right. It felt incredible on her bruised and battered body. She picked up a large, square bar of soap and sniffed it carefully. If it smelled anything like the stuff those old women had used on her, she knew she would vomit. But no. The soap smelled fresh, inoffensive, and … safe.

It smells like Ash.

She built up a lather and soaped her body gently, taking the time to examine her body for injuries. There were bruises on her arms from where she’d been grabbed forcefully, and on her hip and butt from falling over several times. But, with the exception of the cuts on her feet, which were killing her, it was all small hurts.

It could have been so much worse.

She’d been lucky.

Lucky.

The word stuck in her throat, making her gasp. While she was here, safe and warm, her friend Chloe was still with that madman. Reka thought of the voracious way in which Afsan had stared at Chloe. And now, there was nobody there to stop him from hurting her.

I promise you, Chloe, I will not rest until I find you.

Reka wrapped herself in the soft towel, taking the time to compose herself. She’d already made up her mind—she wasn’t going anywhere until Chloe was safe. These men might help her—or they might not—but she wasn’t going to abandon her friend.

There was a deodorant on the counter—clearly masculine. She picked it up and took a quick sniff. Again, that warmth hit her, this time right in her lower belly.

Clearly his.

Reka hesitated for an instant, then applied it quickly.

She put on the clothes that had been left for her—underwear, a bra that would have fit just right a week earlier but was now a bit too big, a pair of black leggings and a soft-knit cream-colored top. Whoever had chosen the clothes had chosen well—the items were stretchy, and felt wonderfully soft on her aching body.

There were no socks or shoes, but she figured that was for the best—she wasn’t sure she would have been able to put anything on her feet. Even now, every step she took felt like agony.

She composed her face into what she hoped was a neutral expression before stepping out of the bathroom.

Ash was waiting outside, a large steaming mug in his hand.

“I made you some cocoa,” he said. He didn’t ask why she didn’t want tea, and for that she was grateful.

“Thank you.” She forgot about her feet, stepped forward, and almost fell down. Ash rushed over, cursing.

“Sit down,” he said, helping her over to the armchair. He handed her the mug. She took a small sip. The smooth, sweet liquid felt wonderful going into her stomach. “Let me take a look at your feet. I’ll apply ointment and fresh bandages.”

“You’re a medic as well?” she asked, surprised.

He shook his head.“ We all have basic first aid training, but I called Slate while you were in the shower and asked him what I should use.”

“How’s Griffin?”