CHAPTER 12

T here’s glitter on my fuckin’ dick!” I exclaimed, my voice rising a notch. I stared down at myself in the shower. Pink glitter stuck to my dick—really stuck to every fucking part of me. “Why the fuck is there glitter on my dick?”

In the other room, I heard Ryder laugh. An honest-to-God, deep, and real laugh. The fucker. While I loved his real laugh and rarely got to hear it, him laughing at my expense did nothing for my fucking mood. Throwing open the shower curtain, I stormed out of the bathroom to glare at him.

“There’s fuckin’ glitter on my dick, baby!” I raged. I gestured to my dick. “Glitter! The fuckin’ herpes of goddamn craft supplies! I ain’t ever gettin’ rid of it! I look like that sparkly fuckin’ vampire!”

“Who?” Ryder asked.

“The fuckin’ vampire!” I reiterated, losing my steam as he shrugged again. “You know… the sparkly teenage creepy one?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about. ”

“It was a book!”

“You don’t read,” he pointed out.

“Long weekend when you were in that coma,” I said. “There was some girl there with her mom. She gave me the book. I ain’t got a clue, baby. It was some teenage fad.”

“Did you read a young adult romance novel, Gray?” The fucking shit-eating grin on his face. I scowled.

“There’s glitter on my fuckin’ dick, baby!” I practically yelled once more. We were way off-topic. I waved wildly to my dick once more. “Glitter! Dick! It’s in my pubes, Ryder! I’m a-walkin’, talkin’ craft store!”

“You could always shave—”

“That was one fuckin’ time!” I interrupted. “One time! Never again! Why is there fuckin’ glitter on my dick, baby?”

“Do you want the honest answer?” Ryder asked, sobering.

“Yes!”

“You probably had sex with a stripper,” he told me. I knew that was probably the case, but I didn’t want to know that.

“I don’t remember a fuckin’ thing.” I fucking hated it. I felt… wrong. Was violated the right word? I wasn’t sure. It just felt wrong. I didn’t like knowing something had happened to my body, and I couldn’t remember a fucking thing. “I don’t like it.”

“I know,” he whispered. Standing, he stripped his shirt off and tossed it aside. As he crossed the room, he said, “You’re dripping all over the carpet. Let’s get you back in the shower.”

“I hate this.” I kept on saying it like it changed anything. It didn’t. It just made me a grumpy asshole.

“I know.” And he kept on saying that. Why wasn’t he madder? He should’ve been.

“Be madder,” I snapped. He said nothing as he followed me into the shower and grabbed the shampoo.

“Head under the water,” Ryder ordered. I listened only because I didn’t have it in me to fight him. My eyes drifted shut as he washed my hair, fingers massaging my scalp until I was putty in his hands. I let him lather me up head-to-toe in soap and did my best to focus on the moment—on relaxing—but I couldn’t. I was so far inside my own fucking head it wasn’t even funny. No matter how good letting him take care of me felt it didn’t take away the situation.

“You mad?” I asked when he was done. Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled my back to his chest.

“I’m not mad.”

“Be mad.”

“No.”

“Why ain’t you mad?” I demanded. “I fucked up.”

“ We fucked up,” he corrected. “Honey, we underestimated the siren—”

“Don’t you dare tell me I fucked a demon,” I cut in. Stripper? Fine. I was unhappy about that shit, but I could live with it. But a demon? Nope. No. No way in fucking hell.

“I’m not saying anything,” Ryder continued without entertaining my interruption. “But sirens deal with energy. I think we underestimated how. We start back at the drawing board. I’m getting you food, and then you’re going to bed.”

“I ain’t goin’ to sleep,” I snapped.

“You are.” There was no room for argument in his tone. To be fair, I felt fucking worn. The shower and his gentleness were the last bit to push me over the edge. Whatever the fuck had happened to me, it left me in some kind of way. Exhausted. Achy. And miserable. So fucking miserable. “I’ll call Tess while you do. She and I will figure out the next steps, got it?”

“Yes, Sir,” I muttered, unhappy but I’d do it.

“Good boy.” His lips brushed along the spot under my ear briefly. “And, Gray?”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t fuck up,” he said. “You made it back alive to me. That’s all that matters.”

How I fucking wished that was true.